Why Girls Often Hold Back Questions: A Teacher’s Simple Practice To Encourage Curiosity
The bell was two minutes away, my 7th grade science classroom still smelled like the baking soda volcano eruption that leaked onto the back counter third period. I’d just finished a lesson on diffusion, erased the diagram from the board, and did what I always do: “Any questions?” Three boys shot their hands up immediately, asking about homework, the upcoming quiz, one even wanted to know if diffusion works in canned soda (fair question). The girls along the front row were already shoving notebooks into their bags, eyes on the floor. No hands. I’d seen Mia, who got 100% on her last quiz, frown three times during group work when her partner explained the concept wrong. She didn’t say a word.
After class, I stopped her by the door. Her backpack had a crumpled Harry Styles keychain hanging off a stuck zipper, and she shifted from foot to foot like she was waiting for a lecture. I said, “I noticed you looked confused during group work today. What was the question you didn’t ask?” She shrugged, said “It was stupid. I got it in the end anyway.” I pressed a little, and she admitted she couldn’t figure out why diffusion doesn’t just mix all the parts of a cell together until nothing works. I told her that’s one of the best questions anyone’s asked all week, and if I’d been sitting through her group’s explanation, I’d have been confused too. She smiled and ran out for recess.
That night, while grading quizzes, I thought about how many times this plays out. I’ve been teaching middle school for 12 years, and it’s the same pattern every year. Open the floor for questions, 80% of the hands that go up are boys. The girls wait. They wait to be called on specifically, they wait until after class when no one’s around, or they don’t ask at all and just pretend they understand. So I thought, what if I just ask directly? Next class, I tried it. After the usual “any questions” I said, “Just one more quick thing. I have a simple question for all girls here today—boys can answer too if you want. What’s one question you still have that you haven’t said out loud yet.”
The room went quiet for a beat, then Zoe, who never speaks up in whole-class discussions, raised her hand so slow I almost missed it. She said, “Is diffusion the same thing as when you stir Kool-Aid?” I said that’s exactly what it is, that’s a perfect example. Before I could move on, Jake, one of the loudest boys in the class, raised his hand and said, “Wait, I also had a question. I didn’t get why it stops when everything’s mixed. That felt dumb to ask.” So we talked about that too.
I’ve been doing this every class for three months now. Some days, half a dozen hands go up. Some days, nothing. I don’t push. If no one answers, I just say, “No problem. If you think of one later, you can message me through the class portal or leave it on my desk before you leave.” I started keeping a little stack of sticky notes by the door for people who don’t want to ask out loud. Last week, I got three notes from girls and one from a boy, all questions they weren’t comfortable saying in front of the group.
I used to think this was just shyness, that some kids are quiet and some aren’t. But over time I’ve noticed it’s not just personality. It’s that girls are told from the time they’re little that being quiet and getting it right is more important than being curious. If you ask a question that sounds “silly,” you look like you weren’t paying attention, you look rude for wasting everyone’s time. Boys, on the other hand, are more often encouraged to speak up, even when they interrupt or their question is off topic, so they get used to putting their questions out there.
The good news is you don’t need a big curriculum overhaul or a family therapy session to shift this. The small changes work best. For parents at homework time, stop asking “do you understand?” That almost always gets a yes, because no one wants to admit they’re stuck. Instead, ask “what’s one thing you don’t get?” It’s specific, it doesn’t frame not understanding as a failure, it just asks for information. Several parents of my students have told me this one switch got their daughters talking about homework stress they’d hidden for months.
For teachers and parents, when a girl does ask a question, don’t rush to answer it and move on. Take two extra seconds to repeat it out loud, so everyone knows it matters. Instead of “good question, the answer is X,” say “Lila asks whether diffusion happens in cold water too—great observation, let’s talk about that.” It’s a tiny shift that tells her her question is worth everyone’s time, not just a quick side note. If you’re at home and your kid asks a question you don’t know the answer to, don’t brush it off to get to the next thing. Write it down together and look it up after dinner. That shows even small, messy questions are worth your time.
I’ve had a parent ask me if centering girls like this is unfair to boys, or stereotyping. I tell her she’s right to ask—my class has two girls who always have their hands up first, and there are plenty of quiet boys who hold back questions too. That’s why I leave it open for anyone to answer. This isn’t about calling out individual kids. It’s about nudging the whole room, making space for the people who usually stay quiet.
Last month, Mia stopped me by the water fountain between classes and asked why we even need to learn cell theory anyway, if we already know how cells work. It wasn’t a testable science question, it was the “why does this matter” question no one ever asks in front of the whole class. I told her that’s a question I still ask sometimes too, and we talked about it for five minutes while she filled her water bottle. Some weeks no one answers my simple question. Some days the sticky notes sit unused. But even just asking it out loud every class lets them know their questions are welcome, even the “stupid” ones. I don’t have all the answers, but I can always make space for the questions.
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