The Achievement Habit (13 page)

In a teacher-student or boss-worker relationship, questions
can also be used as status symbols. If I’m the teacher and students ask me questions, then it shows that they respect me—they want to know my answers! They think I’m smart. Right?

Or it could really be the reverse: they want to be seen asking smart questions. Ever see someone blather on and on at a meeting, using big words, under the guise of asking the speaker questions, and suspect she just wants the people in the room to hear what she herself has to say? A person who is told “That’s a good question!” gains status. Being seen engaging with a person of authority on a seemingly equal plane can be the whole goal.

One summer I taught a class for young researchers at a Bulgarian resort on the Black Sea. I was looking forward to the farewell party on the last evening after a long week. When I arrived at the party, it was already in full swing. I headed for the drinks table and poured myself a glass of wine. When I turned to face the room, everybody was sitting on the floor and looking at me. I asked the professor in charge what was happening. He told me they wanted to ask me questions.

Spending the evening answering questions was the last thing I had in mind, yet I did not want to be rude; I felt I had to be responsive. So I asked all who had questions to raise their hands. It looked like everybody had a question. For a moment I saw my hopes for a pleasant evening of debauchery fading away. Desperate, I asked that they all close their eyes and imagine they were talking to me, asking me their question. Then I asked them to imagine me answering their question. Finally I asked them to open their eyes and raise their hands if they did not get an answer. No one raised a hand. So I said, “Good. Everyone stand up, and let’s party.”

I am to this day convinced there were no genuine questions in that room—they had had all week to ask me whatever they
wanted. I am especially pleased that I did not let whoever set up that question scenario hook my ego. Whatever answers they gave themselves did not get in the way of us all having a genuinely nice evening.

For it to be a
genuine
question, the questioner needs to be seeking information. For example, “What is your name?” “What time is it?” and “What’s the quickest way to the airport?” all appear genuine. Yet we cannot be sure unless we find out whether the questioner really cares to know the information. “What is your name?” could just be a space-filling question. “What time is it?” could be flirtation. “What’s the quickest way to the airport?” could be your coworker’s way of trying to get you to ask about the exciting trip she’s about to take.

Some questions are powerful in that they promote a transformative interaction. If when you ask about something, you intend to get yourself and others thinking about it, you are asking a
generative
question. If in addition you genuinely care about it, such questions are both
genuine
and
generative
; they promote a dialogue in which all parties are listening to others and are fully engaged. The questioner does not simply get back the “right answer.” The question promotes a conversation between the answerer and the questioner that alternates between inquiry and advocacy. Truly generative questions are productive for all concerned. They result in much more than simply passing on known information.

Achieving is often tied to interpersonal relationships—in short, we’re better together. When your coworkers and superiors respect you, you tend to go farther. When your friends feel you genuinely care, you form more lasting and meaningful friendships. Even on a subconscious level, people pick up on it when you’re asking throwaway questions. Don’t fill the space
with them. If you’re going to ask your coworker “How’s your day?” be present for the answer.

The context of your words has a big influence on how they are meant and how they are received. I have had the experience of saying something to someone and then being surprised when I learned that they had heard something completely different.

My wife and I were leaving a party at the Stanford Faculty Club. As we walked out the front door, Ruth said to me, “Boy, I am glad to get out of there.”

Ron, my department chairperson and the host of the party, was directly behind us and overheard her remark. He said, “Ruth, it wasn’t that bad, was it?” She then had to explain that her shoes were killing her and she could not wait to get to the car to take them off. She assured him that she had very much enjoyed the party. It was the truth. I am not sure to this day if Ron really believed her.

Although there are many causes for misunderstanding, one of the most important is the context in which the communication takes place. In teaching, the misalignment of context is one of the biggest causes for misunderstanding. Just as with Ruth and Ron, the student may be
talking
about her shoes while the teacher is
hearing
about the party. Clearly, the same words have totally different ideas behind them unless the context is shared.

In class I find that a good way to make sure we all share the same context is to have students ask questions about the course material. Periodically I require students to ask questions. If the class has twenty or fewer students, I require each one to ask a question. For larger classes, I just take a random sample. I am often blown away by how different some students’ contexts are
from what I had assumed. I’ll have them ask any question, the dumber the better, and find out that some of them have been completely misinterpreting the lessons. This is a great tool for getting everyone into the same context before anyone gets too lost to recover.

I do a lot of work with colleagues from different disciplines and countries. There again contexts are critical for meaningful conversations. Many years ago I introduced a course titled “Computer-Aided Design.” My close friend and colleague Doug wanted to sit in. We both have strong mathematics backgrounds: mine from researching mechanical systems, and his from researching chemical systems. We are both quite informal and open with each other. I do not think the students had ever before (or after) experienced one professor lecturing and the other sitting in the audience and periodically calling out “Bullshit!”

After class, we realized that we had not been in a shared context; the same words had very different meanings in our respective fields. Doug and I had a good time, and the show energized the students, so it all turned out well. If we had not had direct and open lines of communication, it could have been a disaster.

In verbal communication, both the lyrics and the music count, but people often do not give the music enough credit. Even something as simple as the yes/no exercise can trigger a whole range of different experiences. The exercise can be done in an angry way, a boring way, an exciting way, an amusing way, a teasing way, a bland way, a seductive way, a loving way. The moral is that
the music can be more important than the lyrics
.

It can also be the case that the lyrics do not really matter.
The lyrics in many pop songs, for example, are there to create a mood and to engage us; they are not meant to be taken literally. Similarly, complaining about our situation is a great way to attract people’s attention and get them interested in us even if we do not really want their advice.

What happens if you complain or gripe to your friends and they give you some advice? Do you thank them and take their advice, or do you respond with “Yes, but . . .”? If you do the latter, then it is a fairly strong sign that you just want to be heard and aren’t interested in solving the problem.

This works both ways. So if you
help
friends solve their problems by giving them advice, and they respond with “Yes, but . . . ,” it is a good sign they do not want your help in solving their problems. They simply want to be heard. They want to vent and share. They want you to listen to their song. The proper response then is a sympathetic ear and your affirmation of their feelings and experience.

I am always amused by my wife’s friends giving each other advice to take an antihistamine for coldlike symptoms. These are women who have raised children to adulthood and been through countless colds and other common illnesses. They just want to complain. They do not need or want their friends’ medical advice; they want a little sympathy. Mainly, they need the connection with their friends, because their own grown kids don’t talk to them anymore.

Then there are the different communication styles. One of our adult sons is usually not interested in the prolonged telephone chats his mother prefers. This caused hurt feelings at first. Now they have worked out a system. If he really does not want to chat, he tells her, “This is a business call.” He is even allowed to change the designation midcall. It has gone a long
way toward getting each of them comfortable with the other’s different conversational needs.

You can learn to do this with colleagues as well. Rather than going on and on, make sure you give the other person an out. Say things like “I can just give you the summary if you’re busy,” or “Do you want to hear about this now?”

I have a close friend who loves to home in on one person. He will get deeply engrossed in conversation with someone next to him at a dinner party. Often the other people at the table feel ignored. Furthermore, his conversation consists mainly of him talking, often telling stories of his adventures. Some years ago we were at a large party, and I noticed he spent the entire evening talking to a woman I did not know. The next day he remarked that it was a very enjoyable party. I asked him about the woman he was talking with.
He knew virtually nothing about her
; he had spent the entire evening telling his own stories. The mystery woman was obviously a good and patient listener.

I know a married couple who love to share with their friends the details of every casual encounter they have. They call this
debriefing
, and it seems to give them great satisfaction. It enhances the original experience for them and assists them in reliving their adventures. It is also an important way for them to relate to others.

I, on the other hand, find that giving lots of details about my experiences is much less satisfying than just savoring them in my own mind or writing about them. So when someone asks me to debrief, I intentionally mishear their request as “Be brief.” Of course, I too have a need to connect and share my humanity, however, with me it usually turns out that less is more.

Even people with very different styles can still communicate effectively. For example, my wife, our children, and I all have
different communication styles. Yet we do make it work. If you do not have a lot of experience communicating with someone, it is difficult to always know the appropriate way to get your message across. Each new circumstance presents its own challenges. Here are some guidelines that I have found useful:

•
      
First, speak from your own experience and feelings as much as possible. In that way you take direct responsibility for what you are saying, and that makes it hard for others not to follow your lead and take responsibility for what they are saying. In judging others, you need to realize that you are simply giving your opinion. It is best to always speak from how it makes you feel or what you personally believe. Do not generalize or universalize your personal judgments. Make
I
statements.

•
      
One of the most difficult things is to listen to someone else’s story and not interrupt. Many people interrupt because they have something that they are afraid they might forget or that will not be relevant later. The best thing to do is to let it go. If it is still appropriate at the end, say it then. If it gets lost and remains unspoken—no matter how brilliant it would have been—the world will not notice!

•
      
The next most difficult thing when you are a listener is not to follow immediately with one of your own stories. It may not be as relevant to the topic as you think, in which case the person who told the original story will feel you did not really listen or get the point of her story. Alternatively, if your story is on point and a better story, it will seem that you are playing at one-upmanship. The other person’s story loses relevance, and she feels diminished—not supported—by your story.

I have a good friend who, after many years of marriage, went through a divorce. As soon as he separated from his wife, he went around to his close friends to inform them individually. Universally his announcement was followed by the listeners’ tales of past crises in their own marriages. Understandably, his friends—me included—were trying to make him feel that we understood. Actually, he felt he wasn’t being listened to. In retrospect, I realize I would have been a much better friend if I put aside my discomfort and talked to him about his feelings, not my stories.

The question of intention lies behind all communication. What is it that you intend to communicate? Simply saying something does not mean it has been actually communicated. I realized this very early on as a teacher. I would say something several different times, intending to make it clear that I was placing strong emphasis on it. Inevitably, if I asked an examination question about the item, I would get students saying, “It was unfair because you hardly touched on it in the lectures.” This brought home the insight that the teachers’ worlds and the students’ worlds are very different, and that I have to take responsibility to make sure my communications have been received as intended.

Even if all parties agree on what has been said, or even if there is a signed, written agreement, it does not mean that everyone is really agreeing to the same thing. There are often honest misunderstandings.

These take place largely because people do not make sure their meanings—not only their words—are shared. Remember, successful communication takes both
intention
and
attention
. It requires the explicit intention that the meaning be shared,
and it also takes the explicit attention to be sure it has been shared. Unless you have a strong experiential bond with someone, simply saying something is often not sufficient to really communicate it. Actors know that they cannot play a character well unless they know how that character thinks.
²
Similarly, true communication is facilitated when all the parties know how the others think.