What are you good at?
I talk. I talk to understand. I talk to be understood. I talk because I want you to understand. During my postgraduation, I used to visit my sibling’s home over the weekends to gorge on some much-required soul food. On one such visit, she had relatives over and left me to entertain them as she had some work. If you know me, you also know that I am a rule follower. So, being her representative, I took it upon myself to entertain her guests, her Parents-in-law. A sweet couple, they had a schedule they used to follow and typically they rarely if ever veered away from it.
Back in the day, Newspaper time was talking time in my house. That was the time I came out to sit with the dogs and Dad and I would talk. Rather, I would talk and Dad would make the appropriate noises of acknowledgement.
In my defense, they were my first house guests. I have never been given the responsibility of a house guest and never of adults. So, I had no idea about proper protocols and expectations. I reverted to my default setting. Talk. I took off on conversations. I had finished my first cup of coffee and I was ready to talk. So talk I did. Nonstop. About anything and everything, relevant and irrelevant. Papa very sweetly hinted that he would like to read the paper in silence. But I have never been told to keep quiet, so I kept quiet for all of 5 minutes and then off I went again talking nonstop. The second time I did get a slightly stronger worded hint, but I continued. This time without even a break in breath. Eventually, he just shut the newspaper and said, ‘Beta, You must be tired, you should take some rest. I will read the paper now,” he said aloud. And I heard the “in silence,” loud and clear. Which is when I realized that he probably enjoyed the silence as much as my Dad enjoyed my silly conversations. I made a note and kept quiet until the paper time was done. Then I was off galloping again. Talking nineteen to a dozen about this that and the other. There were so many things to talk about and just not enough time to have all those conversations.
Many years later, when my child started with preschool I identified the best school closest to my home, which happened to be an exclusive preschool. They claimed to encourage the children to be themselves. I loved it. I was not looking for a traditional school focussed on only studies and writing. I wanted the best for her. I wanted to let her be what she wanted to be not groom her to be a robot to my wishes. The school promised me that and so much more. A few months in, “She talks to the wall! We told her to face the wall because she was distracting all the other kids, and she continued her conversation. We thought the wall would talk back,” was the feedback I was given. I just burst out laughing. How could I explain to them the concept of wanting to talk about everything in the world and not having enough time to do it all?
My kid studied in an exclusive preschool in my hometown. The school used the playway method of learning and encouraged the children to be themselves. The children were encouraged to have conversations and share their feelings and emotions. And my child was a talker. This school was the perfect environment for her, and her vocabulary, logic, and negotiation skills grew. She was precise and extremely calm, there were no tantrums, and if she found something not to her liking, she proceeded to do what she felt was correct to the point of distraction in the class. Meal times were always time-consuming because she talked as she chewed, she just had so much to share, so much to discuss, so much to talk. The distraction that the teachers complained about also helped them when other kids started to throw tantrums and cry in class. My kid has befriended, distracted, and broken the loudest tantrums in her classes. The teachers were thankful when this happened because issues were resolved without the requirement to contact parents to raise a complaint. She had proved that talking was good.
Most people you broach this topic with will tell you that talking is a flaw, “Empty vessels make more noise” is a common refrain used in schools and in situations where talking is not encouraged. Today, no one has the time for conversations which is why Denmark set up the human library, where they hired humans to sit and have conversations with other humans. I’ve often wondered why one would curb conversations, discussions, and the spirit of inquiry in school-aged kids only to insist that they suddenly develop it in post-graduation and as employees.
Over the years, we’ve been through a few curriculum changes, in different schools and have found how incongruous these demands are. For instance, the next school my child moved to had a more formal culture and the talkers were reprimanded. Stress was laid on rule-following and not having an opinion on anything. I refer to these years as the silent five years. And in these silent five years, we saw the conversion of children into robots. We had lost the talkers and we now had their silent doppelgängers. I never realized how much I cherished the discussions, conversations, and talking until it stopped. A year after we relocated, the silent doppelgangers vanished and the talkers came out of hiding. Opinions were loud. Perspectives were shared. They became vocal advocates for their rights. And to be honest, I prefer these noisemakers to the overflowing but silent vessels I had earlier.
In case you haven’t realized, talking is my superpower. It’s the power that is passed down to the next generation. Talking. Telling stories. Cracking jokes. Planning. Discussions and negotiations. If there is talking, I would love to do it. I’ve found that there is no ‘silent’ work. There is work where you do it in silence because the other person may not have the ability to focus. But that’s a more ‘you’ problem than a ‘me’ problem.
Just a little more 