Category: communication

Hoping you’re having a really good day!

Last Sunday morning, my neighbor and I were walking toward each other in the street. He walked south. I walked north. I don’t know this neighbor, but I see him around. I know which house is his. I think I talked to him once before on the night of the hurricane three years ago when a group of my neighbors gathered right in front of my house to watch the water rise. That was a dark night. Literally. The streetlights had gone out, and the sky poured buckets. He said, “I’ve lived here since 1960. I’ve never seen anything like this.” I have some images seared in my memory from that night and one of him walking away, back to his house, shaking his head.

Last Sunday as we approached each other, I took my headphones off. Maybe I left an earbud in my right ear. Anyway, I didn’t exactly hear what he said. I just sort of felt like he said, “Have a good day!”

I slowed my pace to a stop, nodded at him, and said, “You have a good day.”

This man is eighty something I’m guessing. Because he has white hair and looks older than my dad, who doesn’t look eighty at all, however eighty looks. Age aside, the man said again, what I thought was, “Have a good day!”

I smiled, feeling awkward, and just repeated, “You have a good day!”

Then he laughed out loud, slowed his statement, and enunciated each word. “No. You have a good gait.”

Then I slapped my knee and laughed because no one had ever complimented my gait. “My daddy always told me to stand up straight,” I said. I never call my dad “Daddy,” but for whatever reason that’s what I said.

“He must have been military,” he said.

“No, just short.” I smiled at my own bad joke. This man was not much taller than me, and I’m 5′ 4″.

“I’m short, too,” he said.

I don’t know if you just had to be there, but I’m still tickled about the exchange. At the end of our conversation we officially wished each other a good day.

Later in the week, Friday, to be exact. I received an audio message via Instagram from my blogger friend Eliza who lives across the pond. She went out of her way to use her voice to say, “Hoping you’re having a really good day!” Again, I was tickled. By her beautiful British accent and just by the kindness. So much that I taught myself how to use my Instagram microphone and started wishing my friends and family really good days. And in this way, I entertained myself without making phone calls, and hopefully I brightened somebody else’s day. 

Words have power.

Are You a Good Communicator?

Each Monday in homeroom advisory, the students and I answer a couple of questions as a team-building exercise. One at a time, we relay a detail or two about our weekends and practice the art of communication. Some say more than others. Some endeavor to entertain. Everyone participates. The school dictates the other query through a leadership class for senior students in charge of facilitating activities for the 9-12 homeroom.

Last week as advisory started, a soft-spoken senior named Diego wrote on the board, “Are you a good communicator?” He turned to face the class and proceeded, “I’m not a good communicator…,” followed by his why. Something stuck my heart as he spoke.

From my rolling chair at the front of the room, I rolled left and right for the ultimate vantage point, listening to my twenty-three kids, digesting their responses to understand, and preparing mine to note my observations. I perceived a clear division between the extroverts and the introverts. The extroverts expressed satisfaction with their abilities while the introverts beat themselves up, half of them echoing Diego, “I’m not a good communicator…,” followed by whys. Each time my heart sank a little lower.

Student after student said things like, “I know what I want to say. It just doesn’t come out of my mouth,” and, “I just get nervous and end up not saying anything,” and, “When I work with a group, the loud people take over, and I might have something to say, but I miss my chance,” and “It takes me awhile to think, and I usually think of the perfect thing to say later” and “I just don’t care enough to say anything.”

After the tenth or eleventh time of hearing, “I’m not a good communicator,” I contemplated the purpose of the activity as well as my heart condition for my fellow introverts: Have I been the kid who’s hard on myself due to failed conversations? A thousand times, Yes! Do we really want kids to leave here feeling terrible about themselves? No! No! No!

I carefully crafted my conclusion to change the course. “I communicate better in writing than verbally,” I said, pausing for eye contact. “I’m a quiet person, too, and I like to think before I speak. As I listened, I was up here thinking that I have a problem with this question.” I hesitated with a purpose. “I don’t think any of us should beat ourselves up over a personality trait.” I took another second or two to let that sink in. “Some people love to talk. Some don’t. Doesn’t communication go two ways?” At this point I became aware of some approval in the form of nodding heads. “It seems we could’ve talked about the meaning of communication first. Some people are really good at conveying their ideas, but they might not be as good at listening. I think all of us have room to improve.” And from there, I chatted about my weekend…but the question bugged me all week.Effective communication

 

“Are you a good communicator?”

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