Embracing the Silence

Meghan Retallick contributed today's post.


Something I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting about since first being trained in coaching is using wait time and silence.  If you know me, you know that this skill doesn’t seem to mesh with my outgoing personality.  I have always been classified as a chatterbox, most often getting in trouble in school for talking when the teacher is instructing (I always said that karma came back around for that in the form of a few of my former 8th and 9th grade groups).  I was, and still often am, the student or audience member that broke first when a teacher/presenter used wait time in seeking feedback or discussion responses. And sadly, I was the student and fellow teammate who needed to learn how to share the spotlight and get out of the way so that others could share their ideas.  

When I think about my reasons for constant chatter in group settings, I believe it stemmed from a fear of and discomfort with silence.  Whenever I felt the first stirrings of awkward tension, I wanted to save people with a response--save the presenter from feeling like no one cared about their topic, save my fellow group members from having to speak if they weren’t comfortable, talk over those with concerns so that no one felt tension and conflict.  But rescuing others, I’ve learned, is not okay.  

Is it possible for me to be an effective literacy coach if I’m not comfortable with silence?  

The answer is no.  When I first had the opportunity to be in coaching conversations last school year, I knew that utilizing silence was an area of growth for me.  And here is what I realized by the end of the school year after much reflection and practice:  Embracing the silence is the best thing I’ve ever done.

Three Reasons Why Silence Really is Golden:

1. The Finns recognize the power of silence.

If you’ve been in education the last few years, you’ve probably heard references to Finland and how we should be more like them.  Whether it is good or bad, I feel like “We should do ________ because the Finns do it” has become a mantra of American educators.  Now, to make my bias transparent, you should know that I have a natural inclination to support what the Finns do because of my heritage.  My grandfather (a former chemistry teacher) was 100% Finnish and didn’t speak a word of English when entering Kindergarten.  I am always in tune to these Finnish references not just because of their success in education, but also because of my background.

So when a coworker posted an article titled, The Bad American Habits I Kicked in Finland, on his Facebook account, I was immediately intrigued.  The author of this article is Tim Walker, an American teacher and writer based in Finland.   And I became more intrigued when I read the first reformed bad habit on his list:  I don’t fear awkward silences.  Walker states, “I have yet to meet an American who doesn’t dread the awkward silence.”  (Oh good, so it’s not just me then.)  But Walker found that the Finns embrace awkward silence.  “They understand that it’s a part of the natural rhythm of human interaction.  Sure, Finns know how to have conversations, but they’re not driven by a compulsion to fill time and space with needless chatter.”  

Let’s just take in that last statement for a moment:  They’re not driven by a compulsion to fill time and space with needless chatter.

So many times, I’ve found myself relying on small talk to ease over awkward tension.  The importance of making connections and building relationships with others cannot be denied, but are we really making relationships with needless chatter?  The more I reflected on this, the more I started to reflect on how I could have less quantity of conversations and higher quality.  Let’s cut right to the chase and purpose of the conversation, or as some of my really intelligent colleagues would say, “Let’s straight talk this one.”

2. Silence allows processing time for reflection.

Another thing I’ve learned in the last 10 years about silence and wait time is that it allows for various responses to processing information.  I’ve noticed that I process information and have a response ready very quickly in relation to those around me.  What I’ve realized is that I need to take a few deep breaths and give others a chance to think through things before our discourse begins.  I once had a college professor encourage extroverts to count 10 seconds before speaking in our seminar discussions so that introverts would have time time to think through their responses.  This was a powerful lesson for me and one that serves me well each time I utilize it.  Because really, coaching is not about me.  It is about empowering others to reflect and respond, and a good facilitator of reflection gives those they are working with all the time they need to process.

3. Silence grounds us and tames the urgency to jump into action too quickly.

How many times have I regretted stating a comment quickly without much thinking?  Too many times to count.  How many times have I regretted taking time and allowing silence to stretch while thinking out my response?  Never.

When we choose to embrace silence, something really powerful happens.  We stop.  We breathe.  We listen to those speaking before us.  We ask further questions to gather more information.  We respond confidently after hearing multiple viewpoints.  

We also start to know the difference between silences.  Are people stuck and need more facilitation and questions to get to a solution?  Or, does someone have a solution, but fears bringing it to the group?  

This is the beauty of the place I’m in now.  After working really hard last year to train myself to listen first and respond only after embracing silence, I now am at a level of comfort with silence where I can reflect on the causes of it.  What I feel now when faced with silence in PLCs, in coaching conversations, in meetings with administrators, in walks through the woods, or in my yoga classes can only be described as freeing and exhilarating.  That silence holds so much possibility, how can I not embrace it?

So, in parting, I ask you this:  What does your silence hold?  I hope you’ll let it stretch long enough to find out.