“There is a thing that I do: W-A-I-T. It stands for “Why Am I Talking?” explains Hanks. “I wrote that down in a notebook that I keep to remind myself that listening, for me anyway, is a disciplinary art. I have to force myself to listen because I love the sound of my own voice and because I’m a movie star I’ve been infantilized by everybody I come across who says I’m wonderful.” – Tom Hanks, being interviewed about his new movie, A Beautiful Day in the Neigborhood, in which he depicts Mr. Rogers
Listening is a disciplinary art for almost everyone, except for a few treasured, gifted, amazing people who everyone is equally intrigued by, and adores, all at the same time. I’m not a great listener. And since I am not a charming movie star, I’m already starting out with two strikes against me.
Despite swearing that I was going to expand my horizons this year, and start volunteering for things that didn’t involve my local school district, (trying to branch out from what I have done for the last two decades or so), I’ve ended up becoming a mentor to a 10th grader and a 3rd grader on a weekly basis. (like many middle-aged women, I am not great at saying “no”, nor was I doing an especially ambitious job of looking for volunteer opportunities, outside of the schools) I had to get special training for this mentor position. I went into the training cocky, presumptuous and overconfident. I’ve raised four almost grown children, who I think are pretty special people, and I’ve volunteered in the schools for 20 years. I could teach this “mentoring class” on the fly with one hand tied behind my back. I’ll put my time in to meet the state requirements, but I will probably be bored out of my mind. HA!
The focus of the mentor training was on LISTENING and what “real listening” is, and what it means to people. If you are good listener, apparently your response to the person you are listening to, will be a good reflection and understanding of what they expressed to you. That’s it. That’s all that they want. They want to feel heard and understood. They want to feel validated and important. They want your confidence that they are capable people who will figure out their own issues, in due time. The worst response apparently is advice, evaluations, and analyzations. Even reassurances can just be experienced as condescending brush-offs.
So right after my training session (after finishing up eating my crow and choking on some feathers), I ended up writing a long apology for my lack of listening skills, throughout the years, to my family (husband and kids) on our family group chat. My dear ones all kindly accepted my apology with not one protestation that I was mistaken about my lack of good listening skills. There was not one “awww, but you are too hard on yourself, you are a GREAT listener” from any single member of my crew. Rightly so. I then sheepishly extended this apology to some of my lifelong friends. They were very gracious in accepting my apology, as well.
I’ve worked harder on focusing on what the other person is saying, instead of using that time to come up with my soliloquy in response. Still, I know that I have some work to do on this listening process, yet. Yesterday, when I rudely interrupted my 10th grade mentee with a question about her story, she patiently but firmly replied, “I didn’t get to that part of the story yet.”
I like Tom Hanks’ W-A-I-T trick. I don’t want to be a walking podcast. I want to be present for my family and friends. I want to be a little more Mr. Rogers and little less “movie star – in my mind”. I think that life probably feels a little bit more in depth and meaningful that way.
“When people talk, listen completely. Most people never listen.”― Ernest Hemingway
“This is the problem with dealing with someone who is actually a good listener. They don’t jump in on your sentences, saving you from actually finishing them, or talk over you, allowing what you do manage to get out to be lost or altered in transit. Instead, they wait, so you have to keep going.”
― Sarah Dessen, Just Listen