I'm a fan of Dr. Deborah Tannen. She is a sociolinguist and has written several insightful, really practical books about conversation and communication. One of her books, The Argument Culture, examines the way we communicate in public -- in the media, in politics, in our courtrooms and classrooms.
She describes "the pervasive warlike atmosphere that makes us approach anything we need to accomplish as a fight between two opposing sides -- urging us to regard the world in an adversarial frame of mind."
She notes the "point-counterpoint" approach on tv.
She notes that typical reporting requires a quote from both sides of the issue -- as though there are two and only two sides to any topic. In some cases, that leads to elevating a much less compelling view to an equal position, and in other cases, over-simplifying very complex issues by ignoring valid points (we just want BOTH sides!) when it would be most helpful to have all aspects brought forward.
Very interesting.
I recommend her books.
This "argument culture" and the implied need to be RIGHT (proving everyone else WRONG) seems to me to be an example of the universal application of competitiveness.
I wonder if you have seen any evidences of what I am calling injudicious competitiveness?
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Competitiveness vs. Collaboration
We do champion competitiveness.
We chide people to 'get your head in the game.' If something isn't fun, we say 'where's the sport in that?'
And competition does have its place.
It shouldn't, however, be the natural default mode for all circumstances.
One example: the three-lane parkway I drive to and from work is not the place for competitiveness, but on the road I see more and more evidence of challenges, people vying for the best position, winning/losing, and so on.
In my pollyanna head, I wonder how driving might be improved if we all had a collaborative approach to getting from here to there. Isn't the goal for all of us to arrive at our destinations safely? Aren't we 'sharing the road' ? Doesn't my safety depend to some degree on your safety, and isn't my arrival somehow linked with your arrival?
Yeah, yeah. I know. Competition is fun.
I just wonder about the wisdom of our universal application of competitiveness.
More thoughts on this later.
We chide people to 'get your head in the game.' If something isn't fun, we say 'where's the sport in that?'
And competition does have its place.
It shouldn't, however, be the natural default mode for all circumstances.
One example: the three-lane parkway I drive to and from work is not the place for competitiveness, but on the road I see more and more evidence of challenges, people vying for the best position, winning/losing, and so on.
In my pollyanna head, I wonder how driving might be improved if we all had a collaborative approach to getting from here to there. Isn't the goal for all of us to arrive at our destinations safely? Aren't we 'sharing the road' ? Doesn't my safety depend to some degree on your safety, and isn't my arrival somehow linked with your arrival?
Yeah, yeah. I know. Competition is fun.
I just wonder about the wisdom of our universal application of competitiveness.
More thoughts on this later.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Having stuff
Architecture can tell us a lot.
When I visit historic log cabins, I always wonder at the single bare room and its one mantle or shelf for storage. It makes me realize how little in the way of possessions these early Americans had!
Fast forward 150 years to my grandmother's house -- and the storage possibilities are not a whole lot better. She had a distinct paucity of cabinets in the kitchen and if you wanted storage in the bedroom you had to buy a piece of furniture called a wardrobe. Houses just didn't have closets.
In the 50's my mother's house was brand new and included a tiny, shallow closet in each bedroom, a small cabinet for linens in the bathroom, half-again more kitchen cabinets than her mother had, and an attached single car garage that provided a nook for the washing machine.
When my parents bought their new house in the 60's, builders were touting their walk-in pantries in the kitchen, utility rooms inside the house, and double garages with storage areas!
The house I live in now (built in the mid-1980s) has a walk-in closet in each bedroom, built-in shelves and walls of built-in cabinets throughout the house, extensive cabinets in the kitchen, finished attic space, and on and on.
Today, brand new houses in my area feature master bedroom closets the size of rooms and three car garages.
And if that isn't enough, recent years have seen the rise of the storage industry. I can rent an additional off-site storage area in case I have too much stuff for my house -- or have one of those retangular portable storage things placed on my driveway.
One of the most popular stores is the Container Store where you can buy expensive closet "systems" to organize the overflowing stuff in closets.
We've moved from having very little . . . to a fixation on storing and organizing our stuff. I'm wondering if we have a tail-wagging-the-dog situation here. As a society, we seem to have become servants to our possessions.
When I visit historic log cabins, I always wonder at the single bare room and its one mantle or shelf for storage. It makes me realize how little in the way of possessions these early Americans had!
Fast forward 150 years to my grandmother's house -- and the storage possibilities are not a whole lot better. She had a distinct paucity of cabinets in the kitchen and if you wanted storage in the bedroom you had to buy a piece of furniture called a wardrobe. Houses just didn't have closets.
In the 50's my mother's house was brand new and included a tiny, shallow closet in each bedroom, a small cabinet for linens in the bathroom, half-again more kitchen cabinets than her mother had, and an attached single car garage that provided a nook for the washing machine.
When my parents bought their new house in the 60's, builders were touting their walk-in pantries in the kitchen, utility rooms inside the house, and double garages with storage areas!
The house I live in now (built in the mid-1980s) has a walk-in closet in each bedroom, built-in shelves and walls of built-in cabinets throughout the house, extensive cabinets in the kitchen, finished attic space, and on and on.
Today, brand new houses in my area feature master bedroom closets the size of rooms and three car garages.
And if that isn't enough, recent years have seen the rise of the storage industry. I can rent an additional off-site storage area in case I have too much stuff for my house -- or have one of those retangular portable storage things placed on my driveway.
One of the most popular stores is the Container Store where you can buy expensive closet "systems" to organize the overflowing stuff in closets.
We've moved from having very little . . . to a fixation on storing and organizing our stuff. I'm wondering if we have a tail-wagging-the-dog situation here. As a society, we seem to have become servants to our possessions.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Civilities
I'm trying to learn Russian.
It's an uphill battle. First, it uses a different alphabet....36 letters! Second, my teacher-on-CD often says, "Listen closely. This is not a sound used in English" so I find myself twisting my mouth into strange contortions to try to imitate (mostly unsuccessfully) these strange syllables!
But I've noticed something interesting about this gutteral, consonant-filled language. (Honestly, I think more than half the words I've learned begin with consonant combinations like SDR, or ZN, or GD, or SD!) But what I've noticed is not the construction of the words, it's the thought behind the construction of the sentences. Even though the Russian language sounds rough, the actual content of the words is quite courteous.
The teacher explains the prevalent use of 'excuse me' and various introductory phrases such as 'tell me please' and so on. Apparently, the common Russian language involves a courtesy, an almost formal civility.
It causes me to reflect on our get-to-the-point American conversation. By contrast, we sound abrupt. No wonder people from other cultures think we are rude. We might call our approach concise or efficient, but compared with others around the world, Americans probably sound uncaring and brusque.
I'm reminded of articles I've read about cross cultural business dealings: they often mention the fact that in other cultures people take time to get to know each other before they do business together. From what I read, American businessmen have offended many prospective foreign business partners by rushing to the deal without taking time for the relationship building.
The idea of taking time to be courteous and respectful to people around us, I think, is a fundamental transcendent principle.
I'm going to practice talking more courteously. So it takes a few more minutes . . . I'll consider it an investment of some sort. My contribution toward a more civil world.
It's an uphill battle. First, it uses a different alphabet....36 letters! Second, my teacher-on-CD often says, "Listen closely. This is not a sound used in English" so I find myself twisting my mouth into strange contortions to try to imitate (mostly unsuccessfully) these strange syllables!
But I've noticed something interesting about this gutteral, consonant-filled language. (Honestly, I think more than half the words I've learned begin with consonant combinations like SDR, or ZN, or GD, or SD!) But what I've noticed is not the construction of the words, it's the thought behind the construction of the sentences. Even though the Russian language sounds rough, the actual content of the words is quite courteous.
The teacher explains the prevalent use of 'excuse me' and various introductory phrases such as 'tell me please' and so on. Apparently, the common Russian language involves a courtesy, an almost formal civility.
It causes me to reflect on our get-to-the-point American conversation. By contrast, we sound abrupt. No wonder people from other cultures think we are rude. We might call our approach concise or efficient, but compared with others around the world, Americans probably sound uncaring and brusque.
I'm reminded of articles I've read about cross cultural business dealings: they often mention the fact that in other cultures people take time to get to know each other before they do business together. From what I read, American businessmen have offended many prospective foreign business partners by rushing to the deal without taking time for the relationship building.
The idea of taking time to be courteous and respectful to people around us, I think, is a fundamental transcendent principle.
I'm going to practice talking more courteously. So it takes a few more minutes . . . I'll consider it an investment of some sort. My contribution toward a more civil world.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Celebration
When did we forget how to be joyous?
Have you watched a little kid lately? Little kids are filled with delight at the smallest things. They view the world with wonder and awe. It's so refreshing to be around them and see the world through their eyes.
Somewhere along the way we grow sober, passive, not inclined to show our joy -- assuming we still have sparks of joy buried deep inside. It's as though someone told us that in order to look grown up we had to grow glum.
And as we grow older, I think somewhere along the way we just get out of the habit of celebrating. In the rush of things to do and responsibilities, taking time for wonder and awe gets shuffled to the bottom of the list.
I'm coming to believe that joy and celebration are CHOICES in this life. It's up to us to decide to take time to delight in people, in things, in the moment.
I'm thinking that delight is something that we have to exercise, something that can become a part of us again -- if we desire it and are willing to make time for it.
I'm going to work on getting my celebration glands going again.
Have you watched a little kid lately? Little kids are filled with delight at the smallest things. They view the world with wonder and awe. It's so refreshing to be around them and see the world through their eyes.
Somewhere along the way we grow sober, passive, not inclined to show our joy -- assuming we still have sparks of joy buried deep inside. It's as though someone told us that in order to look grown up we had to grow glum.
And as we grow older, I think somewhere along the way we just get out of the habit of celebrating. In the rush of things to do and responsibilities, taking time for wonder and awe gets shuffled to the bottom of the list.
I'm coming to believe that joy and celebration are CHOICES in this life. It's up to us to decide to take time to delight in people, in things, in the moment.
I'm thinking that delight is something that we have to exercise, something that can become a part of us again -- if we desire it and are willing to make time for it.
I'm going to work on getting my celebration glands going again.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
About Belonging
I heard Russell Quaglia speak a few days ago. He has researched the connection between student aspirations and academic success -- and has identified eight conditions in schools that affect student aspirations. His work is interesting, but I've been thinking about one particular thing he mentioned.
The first condition he recommends that schools cultivate has to do with creating the sense of belonging while preserving the individuality of the student. He noted that the scariest thing about school is not the AP Physics or the high stakes testing or college acceptance. He says the scariest thing about school is walking into the lunchroom alone..... the fear of having no one to sit with.
He talked about how to increase the likelihood of 'belonging' in schools, but he went on to say that the need for belonging doesn't go away when we become adults. His comments made me think of the many situations where adults crave that sense of belonging and the many coping mechanisms people devise.
A friend commented after hearing Quaglia that the success of the organization where I work is related to the active way we extend "belonging" to newcomers.
I assume that the deep, fundamental need to belong has played itself out in many ways in our society......in Welcome Wagons for folks who move into a town, maybe in the greeters at WalMart, belonging to country clubs, belonging to churches, maybe being a member of Sam's, and so on.
I'm going to watch for more signs of this need for belonging and how it is manifested in the people and circumstances around me. I think this deserves more attention.
The first condition he recommends that schools cultivate has to do with creating the sense of belonging while preserving the individuality of the student. He noted that the scariest thing about school is not the AP Physics or the high stakes testing or college acceptance. He says the scariest thing about school is walking into the lunchroom alone..... the fear of having no one to sit with.
He talked about how to increase the likelihood of 'belonging' in schools, but he went on to say that the need for belonging doesn't go away when we become adults. His comments made me think of the many situations where adults crave that sense of belonging and the many coping mechanisms people devise.
A friend commented after hearing Quaglia that the success of the organization where I work is related to the active way we extend "belonging" to newcomers.
I assume that the deep, fundamental need to belong has played itself out in many ways in our society......in Welcome Wagons for folks who move into a town, maybe in the greeters at WalMart, belonging to country clubs, belonging to churches, maybe being a member of Sam's, and so on.
I'm going to watch for more signs of this need for belonging and how it is manifested in the people and circumstances around me. I think this deserves more attention.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Wondering about Aloneness
Tonight I'm alone. I'm in another town, away from home, family, friends. I'm disconnected.
Strangely, I'm reading Blue Like Jazz, and this evening I read the chapter titled "Alone." Miller says, "Other people keep our souls alive, just like food and water does with our body." He tells a series of stories about isolation and how it can harm a person's ability to interact with others.
I've always cherished my alone time. I seek out quiet because there has been so little of it in my life. But I think Miller is right: when I choose too much alone time -- in preference to the people (and their needs) around me -- I get out of balance in my world somehow.
The right amount of alone time is refreshing; too much is debilitating. When I avoid people for a while, it's as though the velcro "social hooks" in my personality atrophy. I move farther from people, farther from being able to interact well.
Perhaps "community" is less noun and more verb -- something to be practised, honed, developed -- a skill that should be sought. Perhaps community should be considered a spiritual discipline.
Strangely, I'm reading Blue Like Jazz, and this evening I read the chapter titled "Alone." Miller says, "Other people keep our souls alive, just like food and water does with our body." He tells a series of stories about isolation and how it can harm a person's ability to interact with others.
I've always cherished my alone time. I seek out quiet because there has been so little of it in my life. But I think Miller is right: when I choose too much alone time -- in preference to the people (and their needs) around me -- I get out of balance in my world somehow.
The right amount of alone time is refreshing; too much is debilitating. When I avoid people for a while, it's as though the velcro "social hooks" in my personality atrophy. I move farther from people, farther from being able to interact well.
Perhaps "community" is less noun and more verb -- something to be practised, honed, developed -- a skill that should be sought. Perhaps community should be considered a spiritual discipline.
Monday, June 11, 2007
Wondering about Acceptance
Today I'm wondering why there isn't more acceptance in this ole world. Where did people get the idea that we are in the rejection business? Is it fear that leads to the mindset of rejection...fear of rejection, so we reject first as a defensive measure?
Acceptance does not in any way diminish the acceptor. Freely I receive, freely I give.
Last night I saw a big auditorium filled with people gathered for the purpose of accepting. It was refreshing. The smell of hope was in the air.
Then later I saw an old veteran of many battles taking the time to accept a young female graduate student on the verge of entering her own world of professional challenges. His kindness and affirmation was inspiring.
Today I'm resolved to be more generous with my acceptance.
Acceptance does not in any way diminish the acceptor. Freely I receive, freely I give.
Last night I saw a big auditorium filled with people gathered for the purpose of accepting. It was refreshing. The smell of hope was in the air.
Then later I saw an old veteran of many battles taking the time to accept a young female graduate student on the verge of entering her own world of professional challenges. His kindness and affirmation was inspiring.
Today I'm resolved to be more generous with my acceptance.
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