ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kerry Patterson is author of three bestselling books, Influencer, Crucial Conversations, and Crucial Confrontations.
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  Dear Crucial Skills,

My brother’s wife died suddenly and unexpectedly almost three years ago, twenty-one days before their thirtieth wedding anniversary. She was only fifty-two years old. Since that time, my brother has withdrawn deeply into himself and lives in the emotional pain of her death and his loss. He goes to work every day, but is a shell of his former self. He saw a grief counselor for several months after her death, but now speaks to no one about his lingering pain. What can I do to broach the subject with him, to let him know that I care for him and love him, and that talking about this matter may help?

Concerned Sibling

I’m so sorry to hear of your family’s loss and of your brother’s continued sorrow. How he must have loved his wife to grieve her passing so passionately. I also understand why you’re concerned about his lingering pain and apparent unwillingness to talk about it. He’s lucky to have such a sensitive and caring sibling.

You’re right to give the topic some thought. Getting others to talk about serious topics—when you’re the one who wants them to open up—always presents a problem. The other person could easily interpret your actions as meddling and become resentful. Or, they might simply feel you’re well intended but wish you’d leave them alone. Either way, the conversation can quickly head south and never recover.

So let’s start with a diagnosis. Why do people choose to clam up when speaking up would solve so many problems? In this case, the undiscussed subject is the loss of a loved one, but it could be about anything.

For instance, after I give a presentation on the topic of Crucial Conversations, people often approach me and ask: “How can I get my life partner to talk to me? I understand how the skills you shared might work once a conversation starts flowing, but my partner never wants to talk about anything.”

Let me address the broader issue of talking face-to-face about meaningful topics in general, and then I’ll return to your specific question.

Here’s my generic diagnosis of why people won’t hold certain conversations. They don’t think it will bring them much benefit. In fact, they fear the costs will exceed the benefits. So, it is better to clam up and live with the current problems than to open up and maybe unlock Pandora’s Box. It’s a simple enough theory. People seek pleasure and avoid pain, and they figure talking will probably bring them pain.

I’m reminded of a civic leader who approached me a couple years back about an upcoming community meeting. He was upset at the previous attendance levels and wanted to know what he could do to get people to show up at the important event. At first, the fellow wanted to use his position of power to threaten folks. Next he wanted to frighten them with horror stories about the impending doom they would surely suffer if they continued to remain apathetic about the meeting.

So I asked him: “Have you thought about the meeting itself?” I had been to a couple and then, like most of my neighbors, stopped going because the meetings were slow-paced, boring, and appeared irrelevant.

“What are you getting at?” the leader asked.

“Perhaps people would be more likely to go if they got more out of the meetings. Maybe if they enjoyed the experience, they’d be willing to give you more of their precious time.”

After a brief discussion, the leader left with a resolve to make the meetings something people wanted to attend.

So now, when people approach me about a spouse or partner who doesn’t like to do much more than grunt and point, I ask: “What, exactly, do you want to talk about?”

“Well, you know, important stuff,” they explain.

“What kind of important stuff?”

“Problems we need to solve.”

After I prod them further, it usually becomes clear that they want to talk to their partner about what he or she is currently doing wrong and why he or she needs to change. As I’d listen to their description of what their partner is doing wrong, I couldn’t blame them for wanting to talk about and resolve the issues. However, I could also understand why the partner was doing everything he or she could to avoid the discussion.

“So, you’ve tried to talk about the issue, but the conversation failed, and now you’re to the point where you don’t talk much at all.”

“That about sums it up.”

After hearing dozens of similar descriptions, I’ve begun to wonder if a less direct approach might be the better solution to getting people to open up. Prior to this insight, my usual suggestions advised people to talk with the silent party about his or her pattern of avoidance—clearly, openly, and directly. I’d suggest starting the conversation by making it safe. I’d have them explain that they’d like to talk about a problem they see—and resolve it in a way that meets both of their needs. I’d warn people about entering the conversation with the assumption that they were right and others were wrong. I’d encourage them to be curious, not judgmental, to describe the issue (facts not conclusions), and to ask the other person if he or she experienced the problem in the same way. I’d then advise people to let the other person talk.

Previously, I believed that if you followed these skills, you would start the conversation on the right foot. While this advice still holds true, I now think that with long-standing silence and a history of broaching a lot of problems, it is best to first set a goal of having enjoyable, non-threatening conversations—about anything—before bringing up headier issues.

Find a way to regularly talk about things the other person cares about. Next, move to serious but non-confrontational topics. Get to the point where you routinely hold pleasant conversations. Once you’re talking regularly, you can broach more testy subjects by following the steps I just suggested. But first, make conversations safe by not restricting every single interaction to a serious problem-solving discussion.

Now, with regards to your grieving brother, obviously you haven’t been continually trying to get him to open up nor are you constantly talking about problems with him. But the idea of making the conversation safe and pleasant for him certainly applies here. Perhaps your brother fears bringing up the issue will only aggravate the problem. And maybe this has been his experience.

So find time to talk with your brother in general (preferably face to face if he lives nearby, but at least by phone). Be his friend and confidant. Increase the time you spend together. Let the transition from pleasant, smalltalk to more serious topics happen naturally. With time, you might want to start talking about your sister-in-law. Share a pleasant memory or two. Read your brother’s cues. Don’t push the topic if he becomes too uncomfortable. Demonstrate that you can share lovely memories without it turning painful.

Eventually you may want to follow the more direct steps I outlined above. But start by simply being there for your brother and modeling a healthy approach to discussing your sister-in-law’s memory. This alone may help him get to the point where he can talk.

Kerry

Kerry Patterson Crucial Conversations

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Joseph Grenny is the author of three bestselling books, Influencer, Crucial Conversations, and Crucial Confrontations.

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Dear Crucial Skills,

When I try to have crucial conversations about issues where there seems to be no middle ground (i.e., abortion, global warming, politics), people often respond with over-the-top, dismissive, and divisive statements. How can I effectively hold crucial conversations about high-stakes topics with those who engage in aggressive ways?

Signed,
Seeking Middle Ground

Several years ago in London, I hailed a taxi for the 45-minute trip from Gatwick airport to my hotel. After I informed the driver of my destination, he turned back and said, “You have an American accent. Are you American?”

“Yes,” I responded.

He then made a pretty bold generalization about the culture I came from.

It was late at night. I was a bit tired. I weighed my willingness to engage in an energetic conversation and as I considered ignoring the comment I thought, “I should be able to do this. I should be able to talk to someone with a strong opinion even if I don’t fully agree.”

As this challenge took shape in my mind, I found myself more interested in a dialogue. I had no intention of trying to change his mind, but I thought, “Here’s a guy who wants to be heard. And if there’s hope for the world it’s only if people like him and me can disagree in a respectful way.” With this moral mission in mind, I responded.

“Not too worried about your tip, I take it?” I said and smiled at his eyes in the mirror.

He broke into a broad grin, then continued, saying that he loved Americans, but again reiterated some strong generalizations.

His voice got louder and his face redder the more he spoke. I began to wonder if I should just nod and smile or if I should really engage. But I returned to my conviction that until we can find peaceful ways of disagreeing we have no hope of creating real peace in the world. At one point in what turned into a five-minute monologue I patted the back of his seat to interrupt him.

“Hey, my friend. May I ask you a question?”

He looked into the rear view mirror and paused. “Sure. This is your taxi at the moment.”

“You know, I am from the U.S. and don’t get as much contact as I’d like with people who have a whole different experience than I do. I am very interested in hearing your views. And I may agree with some of them but disagree with others. Are you interested in mine, too, or should I just hear you out?”

“Oh, no,” he practically crooned. “I want a debate!”

“Okay, then how about this. You take the first five minutes and then I get the next five. At the end, I don’t care if we both agree on everything or not, but I’m guessing we might both be a little smarter. How is that?”

He laughed heartily, turned to face me full on and said, “You are a strange man. But that is a deal.”

I don’t know that my taxi-driver friend ended up seeing the world any differently when we were done with that ride, but I did. Not that my opinions were profoundly altered, but they were tested in a way I was grateful for. Most importantly, I was encouraged to discover that dialogue was possible with someone who held strong views and who seemed initially uninterested in anything but a monologue.

This is what I’ve found to be helpful in such a controversial conversation:

1. Talk about how you’ll talk. If you’re having a one-sided conversation but would like a dialogue, and it’s not going that way, stop the conversation and come to agreement about ground rules. You can do this in a very respectful way by letting the person know you are interested in their views and want to continue the conversation. Then ask for time boundaries, or lower volume, or whatever will help you engage in a healthier way.

2. Check your motives. Be sure your interest in the conversation is sincere. If you just want a chance to demonstrate the perfection of your own opinions, expect the same from the other person. Fair is fair. But if you want dialogue, be sure you are open to new information or perspectives. If you are sincerely interested in getting smarter not just looking smart, you’ll behave in ways that will invite the same from the other person.

3. Encourage disagreement. We’ve learned a startling truth about dialogue. People are okay with you expressing even very strongly held views so long as you are equally genuine in your invitation of their disagreement. Before sharing your opinions, make a statement like, “You know, I’ve got a really strong opinion on this. I’ve thought a great deal about it and read pretty widely, and I’d like to tell you my view. But at the end, if you see holes in it, or if you have new information I don’t have, I desperately hope you’ll challenge me with it. I really want to learn from your view in any way I can.” This sincere invitation takes the fighting wind out of others’ sails. They realize they don’t have to beat you over the head with their opinions because you’re asking for them!

4. Never miss a chance to agree. Finally, don’t go for efficiency. When we agree on 50 percent of a topic and disagree on 50 percent we tend to move quickly to the disagreements because those are what interest us most. And besides, life is short, so why not start with the fight, right? Wrong! If you want worthwhile dialogue, take the time to listen for points on which you agree. Point them out. Confirm them. Put them in the “Pool of Shared Meaning.” Then—and only then—move to the areas of disagreement. When you do this you reaffirm that your goal is not to win, it’s to learn.

I hope these modest ideas are useful to you as you engage with others. I truly believe the future of humanity lies in our capacity to develop mutual purpose and mutual respect across the planet—and that happens one crucial conversation at a time.

Thank you for your interest in advancing public discourse about our most crucial issues.

Warmly,
Joseph

Joseph Grenny Crucial Conversations

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kerry Patterson is the author of three bestselling books, Influencer, Crucial Conversations, and Crucial Confrontations.
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Yesterday when I stopped by our local, family-owned pharmacy I noticed a new addition to the staff. Working alongside an elderly gentleman and his adult son (both pharmacists) was a girl dressed in an apron—complete with a nametag announcing “Hello, I’m Rachel.” She was sweeping the floor behind the counter.

As I waited for my prescription, I struck up a conversation with the youngster and learned that she was, as I suspected, the owner’s granddaughter. It was her first day on the job. Of course, she wasn’t allowed to go near the drugs or the cash register. Nevertheless, she was doing her best to make a contribution.

“I mostly load the cooler with drinks,” Rachel explained. “Today I’m learning how to straighten and dust the shelves.”

“And how old are you?” I asked.

“Twelve,” she blurted as if announcing a triumph of some sort.

“Twelve!” I thought to myself. “But she’s just a child.”

Seeing Rachel in her apron caught me by surprise. Could I have been that young back in 1958 when my grandfather handed me a pale green apron and put me to work in his grocery store? It was the first Saturday after my 12th birthday when Grandpa announced that since I had come of age (in his view, at least) it now would be my job to run the store every Saturday. Grandpa would drive to the wholesale house and load up his 1943 Chevy with groceries for the week. And then he’d take care of “personal business” (play poker with his cronies at the Elk’s Club) while I held down the fort.

In my case, “holding down the fort” meant fetching items from behind the counter, scooping ice cream, slicing and wrapping baloney, pumping gas, totaling the sum on the back of a brown paper bag, counting out change, and bagging the purchases—all the while, making sure nobody stole anything. All by myself.

After a brief orientation period where Grandpa taught me how to make change and watch for thievery, he donned his grey fedora, walked out the back door, and left me in charge of everything he owned.

“That’s my training?” I thought as I heard the Chevy pull onto the street.

I quickly learned that my job consisted of sitting in the back room watching TV until the bell hanging just above the door would announce a customer: “Jingle Jingle.” Like Pavlov’s dog I’d jump to my feet, push through the swinging door that separated the store from Grandpa’s living quarters, step up to the counter, and ask: “May I help you?”

The customer would then walk around the common area while selecting items such as bread, potato chips, and canned corn. Or they would ask me to get the more expensive items located safely behind the counter. For instance, when requested, I’d grab three packs of Camels (23¢ a pack), a quart bottle of Pepsi Cola (25¢), and so forth.

Initially, the customers were nervous about being served by a boy. I was a rather short twelve-year-old. Plus my voice hadn’t gone south yet and this didn’t exactly engender confidence. But I was good with numbers so, as I zoomed through the paper-bag math, the regulars soon learned to trust me with their orders.

With time, I too became comfortable on the job. In fact, it wasn’t long until my friends were routinely visiting me at the store. We’d play cards in the back room. That is, until a customer would enter. . .

Jingle Jingle.

Then I’d break away from my buddies and reluctantly wait on whoever had walked through the door. About six months into the job, I became bored—enough so that my friends and I decided it would be fun to play a trick on the kids who arrived with a pop bottle to trade for penny candy and then take forever making their choice.

Here’s what my bent little mind came up with to keep the kids away. I would crack open a can of chili powder, remove a plug from a hollow gum-ball, and fill it with the red-hot powder. Then I would replace the plug and place the loaded candy onto the lip of the gum-ball machine that sat on the counter next to the till.

“Say, look at that!” I’d exclaim with a look of surprise as a kid walked up to the counter. “Somebody forgot their gumball.”

“I love that stuff,” one of my friends would add.

The unsuspecting kid would look at the brightly colored sphere and then glance back at me for approval. I’d pause for effect and then add the Pièce de résistance: “Go ahead, you can have it.”

Immediately a hand would dart through the air, grab the candy, and stuff it into a welcoming mouth.

Then my friends and I would wait. First the kid would roll the orb around in his or her mouth, tasting the scrumptious outer layer. Next a small nibble. Then came the payoff—a big bite followed by a few rapid chews and eyes that would suddenly widen to full aperture. Next came a howl followed by tiny feet rushing through the door—Jingle Jingle—and ending when the kid leaped off the porch and spit the fiery concoction onto the gravel.

“What’s wrong with that gum?” he or she’d ask with a look of betrayal.

Of course, we never answered because my friends and I would be doubled over with laughter. It was just the kind of thing twelve-year-old boys find hilarious. It was also mean spirited and wrong on many levels.

My buddies and I carried out this trick for two gleeful Saturdays until my grandfather finally caught wind of our shenanigans. My father lectured me, but I could tell from his repressed smile that he thought the whole thing was pretty funny. Mom went off the deep end and chided me for falling in with a crowd of “hardened criminals.” She was convinced I had started down the slippery slope to a life of crime. Grandpa took a more reasonable approach. He asked me what I was thinking. This, of course, was hard to answer because I was thinking that causing the kids to believe that their mouth was on fire was hilarious—which, as I thought about it, made me sound like a sociopath.

Eventually, Grandpa ended his reproof with the classic guilt-trip.

“I expected more of you.”

Gulp. Given that I loved Grandpa dearly, those five words were a shot to my heart. Plus he banished my friends from the store and docked me two Saturday’s wages.

From that day forward, I worked feverishly to regain my grandfather’s trust. I scrubbed the shelves, washed windows, sorted the pop bottles, and otherwise kept busy every second of every eight-hour shift. I also treated every customer with respect. Especially the kids.

I tell this story because as I watch my own grandchildren grow older, I know they too will do childish things. And then when they’re old enough to know better, they’ll still do childish things. The truth is, they’re wired that way. Research reveals the logical and responsible parts of an adolescent’s brain don’t fully develop until around age eighteen.

Fortunately, if adults follow my grandfather’s lead and watch over their errant wards as their brains develop, correct them when necessary, and hold them accountable, they probably won’t (as my mother predicted) fall in with a den of thieves. And hopefully, when they take their first job and screw up as well, a wise boss will firmly correct them and give them another chance.

At a time when the press seems to take every new statistic as evidence of an oncoming Armageddon—in a world where arguments are purposely made for their shock value alone—it’s hard to maintain a proper sense of proportion. Not every drop of rain portends an oncoming storm. Not every sighting of a locust signals a massive swarm just over the horizon. More often than not, the rain stops after a light sprinkling, the locust continues solitarily down the path, and a boy in a pale green apron surprises everyone by growing up.

Kerry Patterson Kerrying On

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Al Switzler is author of three bestselling books, Influencer, Crucial Conversations, and Crucial Confrontations.

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Dear Crucial Skills,

I am caught in the middle of a situation with two difficult employees. One of the employees with an animated temperament feels like she can’t talk to her overly-sensitive coworker. Every time she brings up crucial issues, her coworker either denies them or cries. The ’sensitive’ coworker rarely comes to me with her issues because she thinks they’re too small and I’m too busy to care.

I try to give each of them the time and attention they need, but after two years of refereeing, I’m exhausted. These employees make a really strong team in terms of their knowledge and skill. How can I help them work through their problems?

How Can I Help

We frequently receive questions from readers who want to help in various circumstances but don’t know how. Often, the readers have tried this and that but nothing has changed and they feel stuck and frustrated. I’d like to offer a few suggestions—starting with some strategies that you’ll want to avoid.

Common Mistakes to Avoid
“Don’t come out of that room until. . .“ Your two employees who have too many conflicts are a little like oil and water. They complain to their colleagues and boss. They say, “I’ve had it up to here,” and the boss uses a strategy akin to: “you two stay in the room until you can work it out and behave like adults.”

This approach doesn’t work because the boss is asking these employees to do more than they are generally capable of. The conversation won’t start with safety. They probably can’t find mutual purpose or mutual respect. And, even if they are motivated to talk, they will probably end the conversation by sharing jabs. Or, equally disastrous, they’ll smile and pretend all is well just so they can leave the room and please the boss.

“Stop doing the bad stuff, and do more of the good stuff.” Often, when a boss becomes aware of conflict between two team members, he puts on a coaching hat. Whether he meets with them individually or together, he gives advice that is general and vague. He makes suggestions that are not behaviorally specific. For example: “You need to be team players.” “You need to be more understanding and accepting.” “You need to be nicer to one another.” In a recent survey we conducted, 87 percent of employees said their boss was unclear about improvements they needed to make to perform better in their jobs. In fact, 37 percent felt their boss had very little idea about what they could do to improve. These numbers clearly show that vagueness only adds to the problem rather than solving the conflict.

Some Advice
The advice I offer here is based on the fact that I’ve seen these common mistakes made all too often. Rather than give ultimatums or vague feedback, use the following crucial conversations skills to reduce conflict.

First, get your motives right. You have to get your emotions and intentions right before you can talk with your employees. The mistake “helpers” often make is that what they think they want is to not hear about the problems or to simply have the employees “straighten up.” Instead, ask yourself the question: “What do I really want—for me, for them, and for our relationship?”

Set ground rules. Before discussing the specific problem, have a discussion about ground rules and how the three of you will know if the conversation is effective. My colleague, Ron McMillan, recently stated a ground rule for measuring the effectiveness of a crucial conversation: “Does the conversation help move us closer to resolving the problem and does it help us strengthen our relationship?”

With these skills in mind, here is what that conversation might look like.

Begin by asking your employees to meet with you. Discuss the process and make sure everyone agrees to have a conversation about the issues in a way that will solve the problem and strengthen relationships. Suggest that your function, as their manager, is to engage in the discussion because the issue is impacting you as well as other members of the team. As a part of this agreement, note that any of you can stop the conversation and point out aspects of the dialogue that are not helping you move closer to the solution or strengthen relationships.

Next, be specific. Use statements of observation or facts. Be specific about expectations and behaviors, not conclusions and emotions. The script we teach is to make a statement about what was expected or agreed upon and what you actually observed. Follow that with a question, such as, “Do you see the situation differently?”

In conclusion, remember that it almost never works to ignore the problem and it seldom works to just let the employees work it out. If they could do that on their own, they would have already done it. So make some agreements up front and have a safe and specific conversation.

Best wishes,
Al

Al Switzler Crucial Conversations

By Michael Vitali

Editor’s Note: We are pleased to announce a new monthly column featuring inspiring stories of personal change. These stories will be featured in our upcoming book about personal change due to be released Spring 2011.

I started smoking cigarettes when I was eleven years old. Since then, I’ve abused every drug on the market: speed, heroine, meth, LSD, prescription drugs. You name it—I’ve been addicted to it.

My pursuit of temporary freedom started me on a twenty-year downward spiral in which I alienated my family, lost friends, sabotaged my career, experienced homelessness, and served multiple jail sentences. I tried various methods to quit: drug rehab, AA meetings, and substituting hobbies and relationships for drugs.

Shortly after an early rehab session, I was hired by a well-respected, family-owned resort. The next eight months were evidence that sober living was full and rewarding. My career moved forward, my spirits soared, and it looked as though my treatment in rehab was a complete success.

However, chemical dependency is a subtle foe. After work, I began to “wind down” with a couple of drinks. What innocently began as social drinking quickly snowballed into full-blown alcoholism. Unable to control the addiction, my job performance suffered and I lost interest in anything beyond alcohol.

The promise of a rewarding career, a fulfilling life, and a sober existence disappeared with the job I had worked so hard to attain. Having abused every hand of friendship and alienated my family, I had nowhere to turn.

I started a new life in Arizona. But away from the scrutiny of family and friends, I quickly spiraled into the depths of chemical dependency. My life got progressively worse as my tolerance for alcohol and drugs increased. Loneliness, fear, despair, and frustration became my constant companions. I lost every material possession, I could not hold a steady job, and my friends were tired of supporting me and my habit. I then turned to theft and was soon arrested for shoplifting and spent three months in jail. Upon my release, I was homeless, destitute, and hopelessly addicted.

It was not long before I was in trouble with the law again and was sentenced to prison on the charges of theft, possession and manufacture of drug paraphernalia.

My imprisonment was a pivotal experience. After years of denial, I finally admitted that I was an alcoholic and drug addict. I began recalling my drug abuse, crimes, homelessness, and current state in prison. I found myself saying, “This is not your life!” I cried to God for help and made a commitment to never lose control of my addictive personality again.

After my release from prison, I began attending AA meetings three times a day. I engaged in group therapy and counseling to learn how to control my anger and emotions. Each day, I learned more and more about chemical dependency and the techniques needed to live a joyous and substance-free life.

editor Change Anything

ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ron McMillan is the author of three bestselling books, Influencer, Crucial Conversations, and Crucial Confrontations.
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Dear Crucial Skills,

I thought I was ready to become a supervisor in my company so I applied and was given the job. However, after two and a half years in my job, I am discovering that I am either not ready, or I feel so unsupported by my supervisor that I am now unwilling to continue in this position. Either way, I want to step down from my position gracefully and return to my old position while maintaining a strong relationship with my supervisor. Do you have any advice?

Stepping Down

Dear Stepping,

The corporate ladder and the designated career paths in most companies are usually well known and everyone understands that success is defined as a vertical climb. Having risen to the rank of supervisor, you have decided to step down from your position. I congratulate you for having the intelligence and good sense to recognize what you really want and the courage to pursue it. Good for you.

Now that you have decided to take that step, you ask how you can do it gracefully. You are wise to think this step through before acting. Because you are moving against the grain, management could easily misunderstand your reasons for stepping down. They might assume you lack loyalty to the company or that you are not grateful for the trust they have shown in you by promoting you. They could question your commitment to doing a good job. Most likely none of these stories are based on your performance; rather they are formed by the surprise of you going against expectations.

The conversation you have with your immediate supervisor and any other relevant managers is a crucial one. There’s a skill I recommend you use that clarifies your motives and thinking while reducing defensiveness in others. It’s simply called Share your Good Intentions.

To use this skill, state your decision to step down, your reasons, and your intention going forward. You might say to your immediate boss, “I’ve decided not to continue in my position as a supervisor. I’ve worked very hard over the last two and a half years to do a good job, and I realize that I like being a producer, not a supervisor. I am committed to the success of the company and our team, and I want to add value. Going forward I believe I would do that best as a producer.”

This skill makes it clear that even though you don’t want to continue as a supervisor you have good will toward the company and the team and you will work to contribute in your new position. This helps to dispel any false stories or assumptions managers might otherwise be tempted to conclude.

Next, depending on your boss’s questions, you may need to explain your reasons in greater detail and help to plan the transition. Be sure to not leave your boss or your company in the lurch. Be flexible and willing to help in the change.

When you are open and clear about your decision and express your good intentions, others are less likely to misunderstand and your transition is likely to be both efficient and graceful.

All the best,
Ron

Ron McMillan Crucial Conversations

ABOUT THE EXPERT
Steve Willis is a master trainer and vice president of professional services at VitalSmarts.
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I recently led an out-of-state training session. As usual, I arrived early to make my last-minute preparations and found that this fifteen-person session was to be held in a five-hundred person auditorium! Good thing I arrived early and—despite the room coordinator’s eloquent Manifest Destiny-esque argument that people need their space—was able to change rooms.

So this month I’ve been thinking about propinquity, the property of being close together, and how it affects the learning experience. And if you’re wondering if it’s really that big a deal, the answer is “yes.” How you set up the classroom determines the amount and types of interactions and learning experiences your participants have.

For example, it’s really difficult to facilitate a class discussion that involves everyone when the room is set up classroom style—with participants seated in rows. It’s also really difficult to teach a class of twenty to twenty-five participants and involve everyone when the room is shaped more like the narrow hallway that leads up to the room than a room itself.

So yes, propinquity matters. Changing or adjusting the seating space in the class (for example, seating participants in small groups) can have a dramatic impact on the type and quality of the group’s interactions.

Steve Willis From the Road