Introversion

I’ve always known I’m an introvert.   Maybe that’s why what Susan Cain has to say in the first hundred or so pages of her book, Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking (2012, New York: Broadway Paperbacks) resonates with me.  So many of the things I love to do are solitary or quiet:  play the piano and the harp, write, read, hike, take long walks.    Still, I am a bit of a paradox: I like to work alone but I find group synergy enervating; I do need protracted periods of quiet to concentrate and be most productive, but I love to chat; I enjoy being at home and I love to travel.  So I find myself in this book (or, at least, the part I have read so far!)

Over the years, I’ve honed skills in facilitation, presentation, performance, and conversation, and even dipped my toe into drama.  On purpose.  Little by little, with intentional jaunts out of my comfort zone.  

Still, well aware of my default nature, I thought I would share some of Cain’s research and wisdom.

A Manifesto for Introverts (Susan Cain)

1.              There’s a word for ”people who are in their heads too much”: thinkers.

2.              Solitude is a catalyst for innovation.

3.              The next generation of quiet kids can and must be raised to know their own strengths.

4.              Sometimes it helps to be a pretend extrovert.  There will always be time to be quiet later.

5.              But in the long run, staying true to your temperament is key to finding work you love and work that matters.

6.              One genuine new relationship is worth a fistful of business cards.

7.              It’s OK to cross the street to avoid making small talk.

8.              ”Quiet leadership” is not an oxymoron.

9.              Love is essential; gregariousness is optional.

10.          “In a gentle way, you can shake the world.” (Mahatma Gandhi)

For me and my educator colleagues, Cain has tips to help educators honor introversion in our students:

1.              Don’t think of introversion as something that needs to be cured.

2.              Re-examine classroom “group-work.”

3.              Don’t seat shy or introverted kids in “high-interaction” areas of the classroom.

4.              Balance teaching methods to serve all the kids in your class.

5.              Try “pair-sharing” techniques.

6.              Wait five seconds after asking questions in class.  (In my experience, have students write a few ideas down individually in answer to a question before initiating a group discussion evens the playing field for introverted students.)

7.              Use online teaching techniques.

Details for each point are on pp. 348-349.

These snippets don’t do justice to Cain’s engaging and honest style and thorough research.  Pick up a copy of the book, and see what you think.  It’s already made a difference for me.

Follow-up

Conversation is never about you.  It’s always about the other person.  It’s a journey of discovery, meant to get to know the other person, draw that person out, and find the richness therein.  It’s not a platform to relate personal accomplishments or to summarize past and future endeavors to a captive audience. 

The success of any conversation, whether you initiate it or not, depends not only on the questions that each person may ask, but, much more critically, on the follow-up questions.  It’s not so hard to ask an initial question.  For example:  What are your impressions of the meeting?  What does your week look like?  Any plans for the weekend?  The real test of conversational skill comes in what happens next.   After the reply, do you answer the question yourself? And, in so doing, switch the subject back to what’s really important, you?  Or, do you ask another question that will follow-up your partner’s reply, and show that you are truly listening and interested?  So, depending on the reply to the original question, you might zero in on why the meeting seems to so producive (or not!), a tell-me-more-about one key event in the week ahead, or a that-sounds-so-exciting/relaxing/fulfilling followed by an interest in details about the weekend event. 

Follow-up questions are critical for many reasons, in my experience.

• They demonstrate interest in the other person.  What the person has said is interesting, and you would like to know more.  The person himself or herself is, de facto, interesting as well.
• They communicate a posture of curiosity and an openness to new information.  You are less concerned about communicating your own opinion or viewpoint than understanding what the other person’s perspective might be.
• They validate the other person’s accomplishments and epertise.  That individual has the opportunity to share the fruits of his or her reading, work, or travel.
• They imply self-confidence.  You’re so comfortable in your own skin that you can focus on others.  You don’t need the constant validation of me-centered talk.  
• They are other-centered.

What might be some useful follow-up questions?  Here are some that have worked for me:

• Tell me more about the project/your experience/your findings/your trip.
• What projects/activities are you involved in at the moment?
• Sounds like that might be exciting/a lot of fun/hard work/a rich experience.  What was the most exciting/amusing/fulfilling/challenging aspect?
• Why do you think the event/celebration/project was so well received? 

Invariably, answers to these questions lead to more rich discussion that allows me, after a time, to inject snippets from my own experiences or my own reading to provide a perspective that affirms what has been said or provokes more discussion.   I can hand the reins over again with another question, and we ride along together, each taking turns, until we arrive, enriched, at a destination.

The questions don’t have to be fast and furious.   Silence after a response can prompt a person to elaborate on what he or she has just said.  So can a paraphrase, or very brief summary of what was said.  The paraphrase lets you test how accurately you understood the message your conversation partner communicated.

What happens in the absence of follow-up questions, when we turn the conversation back on ourselves after the person has answered our question?  We risk communicating that our original query was merely perfunctory.  We asked because that’s what you do, but we’re really not that interested;  what’s important is what’s happening in our world.  What the individual might be doing is not compelling enough to delve into.

The purpose of conversation, then, as I suggested in a former post  (November 28, 2014), is not to tell people about ourselves.  It’s to investigate the experiences and thoughts of others to nourish our own life.   We can’t do that unless we follow up.

Advocacy

The nurse’s comments got me thinking about the essence of advocacy. 

“Wow.  You really know a lot of people,” she said, as she directed my husband, still in his hospital bed thirty hours after bypass surgery,  from the surgical intensive care unit to the cardiac surveillance unit one floor up.  She and her partner had transfered the oxygen to a portable unit, hooked the IV bags to a pole attached to the bed post, and tucked the tubes feeding the fluid bags away from the floor.   I nestled his small black bag at the end of the bed, and found room in my own tote for the electronics.  On the way out of the room, I saluted the nurses at the station with a wave and a general thank you.  Their shift would end in an hour or so, and I wouldn’t see them again.  A small part of me was sorry to leave this group of dedicated professionals who had taken such extraordinary care of my husband.  Passing by the other rooms, I spied nurse Ryan attending to another patient.  He had been there the day before, surgery day, and I called out his name as I waved.  As we moved toward the exit, a person I didn’t know waved good-bye from the last room.

We didn’t really “know” these people, not in the deep, complicit way you would know a family member, a friend, or a co-worker, their mannerisms, gifts, or idiosyncracies.  We had met, them, though, and, yes, we had taken the time to chat with them.  Elmer’s recovery was in their hands, and we meant to let them know we  expected only the very best care.  The nurse’s comments reminded me that inasmuch as our conversations were sincere, they were also intentional.    They enabled us to advocate for Elmer and for ourselves.

As I mulled over the concept, I came to understand that our advocacy took other forms as well. 

We were present.  For the surgery day, as well as the day before and after, the children and I made ourselves comfortable in the unit waiting rooms.  We had books, board games, drinks, and food, and we were ready for the long haul.   Someone was with Elmer for every moment the rules allowed.

We respected protocol.  If the rules said only two visitors, we went two at a time.  When I stayed through the night on surgery day, the rules said one hour in the room and two hours away.  No problem.  We were there to support Elmer, not to get in the way of the staff doing their job.  (Today, in fact, the Saskatchewan government announced that, by Christmas, patients’ families will be able to visit at any time!)

We smiled and laughed a lot.   In that way, we supported each other and Elmer through a tense time.  He said afterward that our upbeat attitude helped him manage the stress.   Maybe it helped the staff feel comfortable as well. At the very least, it took the edge off.

We engaged with the staff.   We wanted them to know that we honored their work and the expertise and experience they brought to it.   Conversation was our tool, and the staff took the time to reciprocate.

We asked questions—about their work and families, about the procedures, about Elmer’s progress, about timelines and prognosis.  As Elmer regained his strength, he, too, chatted up the staff about their countries of origin, their experiences, and their interests.

We said Thank You.  On the first day, I mentioned to nurse Ruth how much I appreciated the timely flow of information.  She anticipated the details we would need and the moment they would be most valuable.  As a result,  we didn’t have to pull teeth to find out what was happening.  At those words, she stopped for a second.  A smile transformed her face, and she glowed.  I wondered how such ordinary words could have such a dramatic effect.  But then, as a teacher, I know how much any recognition of my efforts meant to me in my work.

What we had done, it became clear, was advocate through our actions, not our words.    One smile, one hello, one good morning, one story, one laugh, one remark at a time, we had communicated positive energy that buoyed not only ourselves and Elmer, but Elmer’s caregivers as well.

Actions unleash forces that either enhance our experience or make events we face more difficult.  Small, incremental gestures colour how people respond to us.  Whether we are intentional about those actions or whether we are oblivious to their effect, they impact the events of our lives.  Much better, then, to be conscious of the power of our actions in situations over which we might not have a lot of control. 

As the Chinese the poet Lao Tzu writes in a text I found just this morning,  “[The Wise Man] teaches not by speech but by accomplishment.”  Actions convey messages, and those messages have power.   Best, then, to make them positive and intentional, and watch them, say,  help someone recover from surgery or sustain his family or lighten the load of his caregivers.  

(Mis)Fortune

Elmer on discharge day, five days after surgery.

Two weeks ago, our number came up.   As it can anytime and with greater odds as we age, life pivoted in a nanosecond.  My husband suffered a heart attack.  He would need corornary bypass surgery.  In the challenges of the days that have followed, we have been bathed in blessing, so that misfortune has lost its edge and receded into obscurity.  Good fortune has leaped through the adversity.

1.              He lives.  The damage he suffered is not life-altering.  My life has forked,  not exploded.

2.              My husband received prompt and incomparable medical care, both at St. Peter’s, our local hospital, and the cardiac and surgical intensive care units of the Regina General Hospital, where he was expedited by ambulance.  In particular :

·      By the time I arrived an hour after the ambulance, he was already in an angiogram / angioplasty procedure to diagnose the damage, open a blocked artery, and buy some time.

·      Medical staff provided information on a before-you-need-to-know basis.  Aware of the actions being taken and the reasons for them, we felt secure.

·      Dr. Tsang, one of the surgeons, was to go over the surgical procedure—maybe that night, maybe the next morning.  When I confided to Ruth, Elmer’s nurse on admission day, that I wanted to be present for the surgeon’s visit, whether it occurred that day or the next morning, and that I hoped to get home before the Kids from the East arrived, she offered to check with him.  Turns out he was already in the unit, and dropped by for the chat ten minutes later.   Talk about both those professionals going the extra mile.

·      Medical staff took time.  Never once did their body language communicate impatience—no glance at the watch, no brusque movement, no body turned to leave as the last word rushed out.  Feet firmly planted, hands loose, they smiled and answered question after question.  These are people with hectic schedules.  Although the next items on their to-do lists might have been scrolling behind their eyes, their gestures did not betray them.  Dr. Macdonald, the anesthetist, for example, in scrubs complete with surgical cap, stethescope collared around the neck, sat on a stool beside my husband’s bed, feet spread, elbows on the knees, as he explained his role in the procedure.  He had all the time in the world for us.  Dr. Booker, the cardiologist, took a call from St. Peter’s Hospital just before 5:00 a.m.  After surgery, Dr. Korkola found us in the waiting room to talk about how the procedure had gone, and what recovery might look like.

3.              Location, location, location.  Since February, we have been in Calgary, Winnipeg, Saskatoon, and Arizona.   The attack occurred at home, in Saskatchewan, the home of universal health care. 

4.              Timing is everything.  As I am the official chauffeur for the next four weeks yet, I am happy that we are moving through spring toward summer.   Snowstorms and ugly roads are still likely, but the odds, as they say, are in my favour.

5.              Our children had uninterrupted time together.   Our adult children pressed pause on their lives, and headed to their father’s bedside.  With three days in  hospital rooms and waiting rooms, they had time to share stories, laugh, play games.  We ate together, and we had time together in the evenings before hitting the pillow in exhaustion.  Through that interaction, they supported each other (and me!), and, without even being aware of it, relieved each other’s stress and anxiety.

6.              I’m in the ebb, not the flow, of my own work.  Although I did have to rely on a colleague to pinch-hit a session for me, the contract work that remains is free of deadlines, and can even be done from home, should that still be necessary.

7.              Prayers and positive energy have impact.  We are so grateful for the support from family, friends, and community.  People phoned, texted, emailed, sent cards, traditional and digital, visited in the hospital, and had masses offered.  Our neighbor’s family offered me their guest room for two nights.  People also brought muffins, soup, stew, and goodies, and with the food came life-giving conversations.   I am sure that this groundswell of affection has contributed to Elmer’s impressive recovery.

As we move on in recovery, the balm of these blessings soothes any pain and levels the road ahead.  We are so very grateful.

Correctness

The term political correctness has outlived any usefulness it may ever have had, and it’s time for it to be relegated to obsolescence.  It’s not just that society doesn’t need it any more; in my view, the phrase is harmful.  Why might that be?

Language conveys messages, implicit and explicit, intentional and unintentional.  

Society’s understanding of the power of language to enhance or demean has grown alongside its awareness of the effect of longstanding terms on the people they designate.  To reflect that growing consciousness of the power of language, society has chosen different words to reflect common realities.  The expresson “political correctness” has been used to designate this paradigm shift in the use of some words.

“Political correctness,” then, has come to mean a change in speech patterns out of respect for people.  Some of these changes have cultural origins.  For example,  First Nations would be the words used today in reference to a person who might have been described as native or Indian ten years ago.  Other expressions have origins in gender equity.  Society now refers to the chair of a meeting (rather than a chairman), to flight attendants, fire fighters, police officers and letter carriers (rather than stewardesses, firemen, policemen, and mailmen).  These words communicate that the occupation includes both women and men.  In yet another context, some turns of phrase emphasize capacity, such as physically challenged or mentally challenged as opposed to handicapped.    Patterns of speech such as these are now commonplace.

Let’s be clear.    Political correctness is not euphemism.  Euphemisms sugar coat or camouflage a negative trait to hide a harsh reality from others.  Saying that someone has “passed away” instead of “died” would be one example of a euphemistic expression, as would calling civilian casualties of war “collateral damage” or pornography “adult entertainment.”   Phrases that might fall under the umbrella of political correctness, on the other hand, reflect a changed awareness in various contexts, especially  culture, gender, and ability.  They are not euphemisms because:

·      they do not seek to mask an unpleasant reality;

·      they are oriented toward capacity;

·      they evoke a positive view;

·      they respond to an expanded understanding of the impact of language on people.

So, if the phrases and expressions that have come to be labelled as political correctness are helpful, why would the term itself need to be eradicated?   There’s a belief among some, I think, that these words have been imposed on society by a nebulous, undefined authority to pander to special interest groups.  A deep-seated resentment seems to be sometimes attached to their use.   Instead, let’s accept that  respect for ourselves and others is the great motivator in changes to expressions that might be deeply rooted in our experience.

That’s why the term “political correctness” needs to fade in to obsolescence, to be replaced with respect.  Anyone whose words reach a wide audience, such as broadcasters, writers, politicians, and teachers, need to stop using “political correctness”.    We change terms that could be offensive because we know that language can affect how individuals perceive themsleves and others.  When we use words that reflect a growing sensitivity for the implicit messages in language, let’s do it not out of correctness, but out of respect for each other and for the inclusive, empowering society in which we live.  Let’s discard the term “political correctness” and speak instead of respect.

Beyond

When I arrive at the back door of the United Church, Jane is already on the step with a snow shovel.   She has opened the door for the two Social Justice committee members who have preceded me with supplies for the Community Supper.  Now, she will clear the few centimetres of wet snow that have accumulated in the parking lot and on the steps.   Sidewalk + snow + Jane + people coming = Jane shovelling now.  Whatever needs to be done, she will do.

The committee gets to work.  We have an hour before people start to arrive, and a half-hour more before the buffet line opens.  The menu is simple but hearty, I hope: chili, salad, buns, and cookies.  Dave makes coffee, Jackie and Gerard cover the tables with paper tablecloths, Elmer chases down extra buns and paper towels, and I do triage on the buffet table.  Jane orients us to this unfamiliar kitchen.  She points to the appropriate coffee urns, suggests eight tea bags for twenty-five cups of tea, finds a huge bowl for the salad, and locates the salt and pepper.  Later, after a foray in the dining hall to arrange buns, stack coffee and juice cups, and place the dessert trays, I notice that Jane is still in the kitchen cleaning up as we go.  She is another pair of hands, even when her own parish is not responsible for the Community Supper this month.

Jane’s ethic of service inspires me, and I want to acknowledge it aloud.  “Thank you for everything you are doing, Jane,” I say.  “You’re really going above and beyond.”  Her response stops me in my tracks.  Her hands in the sink, Jane locks eyes with me and says, “There’s no beyond for Christians, is there?  We are always called to go beyond.” 

I am flummoxed.  She is right, of course.  There is no beyond for a Christian.  “Above and beyond” is another phrase I will relegate to obsolescence.     The mission of Christians is always to reach beyond our strength, beyond our perceived available time, beyond our resources, beyond pressure from the outside (and often, from the inside, too!), beyond the distractions life brings, in service to others, those right beside us in our family and community and those far away.   Our lives must embrace all in a circle with an infinite radius and an effaced circumference.

There is no beyond.  Thank you, Jane; you evangelize through action.  Thank you for leading the way on the extra mile.

Non-fiction

Now, for non-fiction, which separates into the professional and personal categories, the books that relate to my work and those that I am compelled to read for interest.

Professional

Visible Learning and the Science of How We Learn by John Hattie and Gregory Yates (2014)

This is the most comprehensive, readable, and visionary book on learning I have read.  It’s a must-read for pre-service teachers and those new to the profession.  Hattie and Yates analyze data to support effective pedagogy and to debunk some myths.  You’ve always thought that multi-tasking brings benefits?  Think again.

Opening Minds: Using Language to Change Lives by Peter H. Johnston (2012), the author of Choice Words.

In this seminal book that every single person with a stake in education needs to read, Johnston demonstrates the link between the language we use daily, whose implicit messages most often escape us, and the mindset we inculcate in our students or children.  The phrasing of questions and statements cultivates either a fixed mindset, he maintains, a black and right world of right and wrong answers and ways of doing things, or a dialogic approach that recognizes the gray, that is uncomfortable with uncertainty, and leaves room for creativity and new knowledge. 

It’s the difference between these statements, Johnston says: ” ‘The three reasons for the Civil War were . . .’ [and] ‘From the perspective of the white male living in the twentieth century, the main reasons for the Civil War were  .  .  .’ ”  In the first case, he says, “there is no uncertainty.  The knowledge is already made.  It is fixed.  There is nothing to be done, no sense to be made, no possibility of agency.” (p.  59)

Johnston cites Ellen Langer to state that people trained in this way “ ‘do not reconsider what they mindlessly accepted as true.’ ”   He goes on to make connections between these mindsets and political and social phenomena of our time.

Personal

The Power of Why by Amanda Lang

Amanda Lang, formerly of the CBC’s The Exchange, explains with concrete examples the critical importance not only of asking questions, but of asking the right questions, especially why.

The Inconvenient Indian by Thomas King

A Canada Reads selection for 2015 defended by Wab Kinew, The Inconvenient Indian traces the history of First Nations in Canada and the United States.  In this parallel perspective, this book is different from other books on this subject.  King’s language is colorful and straightforward, making this an interesting but disturbing and often shocking read.

Running the Riders: My Decade as CEO of Canada’s Team by Jim Hopson with Darrell Davis

Confession:  I will read anything about the Sasaktchewan Roughriders.  I enjoy all the backstories, in film or video.  Although I enjoyed this book, I wonder why, in the section on the 2008 season, there is no mention of Weston Dressler named as the CFL rookie of the year that year, and getting the opportunity to become a go-to receiver when many receivers were sidelined in an epidemic of broken legs.  That is odd, given the enormous impact Dressler had on the Riders during his years there, from 2008 until just this winter, 2016. 

These books, along with a plethora of articles and comments I read, shaped my thinking during the past months.  If they pique your interest, I know they will also stimulate your reflection.