Read time: ~7-8 minutes
“No dumb questions” takes more than just saying it
On Monday this week, our team sat down to talk through how our most recent Extra Credit session went. We do this after all of our events.
We look at what worked, what felt off, what people responded to, and what we want to change next time.
And there was a lot to feel good about!!!
People showed up early and ready to learn. They shared the parts of their jobs they would love to automate (this was an AI session after all!). They asked for the playlist (iykyk!). They dropped their LinkedIn profiles and started connecting before the teaching had even begun.
All things that make a virtual session feel *that* much more human.
The session also gave people a look at what AI can do beyond generating content. We wanted to help folks understand workflows, connect tools, and the kinds of things they could actually build with AI.
It was a lot of material. And as the session became more technical, the chat started to get quieter.
I felt it happening because I was getting quieter, too…
I have ADHD, and I know this experience very well.
I can be completely interested in something and still lose track of the steps. I can understand what someone is trying to accomplish, even if I have no idea how they moved from the screen I was looking at thirty seconds ago to the one they are on now. That happened to me during this Extra Credit.
I was hosting, watching, in the chat and taking it all in. At some point, I realized I was no longer following every part of the process. My brain quite literally shut off!
I also started noticing the kinds of questions appearing in the chat. Some even apologized before asking, as though being unfamiliar with the technology required an explanation.
One person thanked us for giving them permission to sit and watch… That was a lovely comment, but it also made me stop. Why did watching feel like something that needed permission?
We had told people they could follow along, take notes, or simply observe—like any other Growclass event! Still, they had arrived with an idea of what “successful participation” was supposed to look like.
Maybe success meant building at the same speed as the person teaching.
Maybe it meant understanding every term.
Maybe it meant knowing enough to ask a smart question.
When that person thanked us for letting them watch, I started wondering how many other people were quietly worried that watching was not enough…
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No dumb Questions
One of our values at Growclass is no dumb questions. And I LOVE this value. I say it all the time. Because we want people to be able to ask the very basic questions. We want them to admit when they are confused. We want people to know that learning does not require pretending.
Some people are starting at third base. Some people are starting at first base. Some people are taking in the game from the comfort of their homes while chasing after their kids and making dinner. It’s ALL valid and all relevant and all of those places are perfectly suitable starting places.
But this session reminded me that the phrase alone cannot create that feeling.
I could tell folks were making a lot of quick calculations before asking a question in public.
- Did everyone else understand that?
- Was I supposed to already know this?
- Has the speaker moved too far ahead for me to ask them to go back?
- Will I slow everyone down?
- Can I explain what I am confused about clearly enough?
Sometimes a person is so lost that “Any questions?” does not even help. They may not know which part to ask about yet. Frankly, they don’t even know where to start. (Been there!)
So folks need to know that all learning styles are welcome and there are different ways to participate.
Some people will build along in real time. Some will take notes. Some will watch the recording later and pause every few minutes. Some will need to see the whole process once before trying any part of it themselves.
We just need to make sure we say these quiet parts out loud.
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We have to build for ourselves
Accessibility can become very abstract when we talk about it in planning meetings.
We picture an audience somewhere outside our own team. We talk about what “they” might need.
I do not want us to build that way.
I have ADHD. I lose track. I need things repeated. I sometimes need the big-picture explanation before the detailed walkthrough makes sense.
People on our team and in our community have different levels of technical experience, different attention spans, different schedules, and different ways of learning.
We are part of the audience.
Building for ourselves means being honest about the moments when we struggle. It means taking our own confusion seriously instead of assuming everyone else understood.
It means recognizing that a three-hour technical event asks a lot of people, even when the teaching is excellent (!!!!), and the topic is exciting.
We had two complex sessions back to back. We wanted to give people as much value as possible. In practice, that amount of content needed more room.
That is useful for us to know.
We can also ask better questions than “Does anyone have any questions?”
We can ask:
- Where did we lose you?
- Which tool would you like us to explain?
- Would it help to see that step again?
- Are you building along, taking notes, or planning to use the recording?
Those questions give people more ways to tell us what they need!
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What we are carrying forward
I am proud of the event and the entire team that put it together! And the part that felt uncomfortable is really worth paying attention to.
We want Growclass to be the place where people can learn about AI and marketing without feeling like they have to pretend they already understand it, so that takes more than saying there are no dumb questions.
It takes a willingness to look at our own work and admit when we asked too much of a session.
The question I want to carry into future events and community opportunities is simple:
Who might be getting lost, and what can we do before they have to apologize for it?
I want people to feel welcome when they arrive, no matter where they are starting from.
Until next time… waving from the kitchen, chasing after my kids and cheering on the Blue Jays,
Tal
