A Fine Art That Is Quickly Slipping Away
When I was in the seventh grade, my parents almost got divorced. For a while they didn’t talk to each other or see each other. The only form of communication between them was a letter Dad had written Mom, asking her why she couldn’t communicate with him. Mom wondered the same thing about Dad.
Since then, I have noticed the many times and places when people don’t communicate . . . it doesn’t make sense. I assume people don’t like to be confused, don’t want to get hurt, don’t want to be misunderstood. But that’s what’s happening. Why?
Automobile turn signals are convenient communication devices used to inform surrounding drivers, bicyclists and pedestrians which way a driver intends to go. I am baffled every time I have to stomp on my brakes for someone who has stopped in the middle of the road, apparently to make a left turn--no signal given. I could have crashed; someone could have been hurt.
Directions and signs serve as helpful forms of written communication that tend to make life a little more orderly. At UC San Diego resides the two-story undergraduate library. Each English writing program has a “library day” in which students are shown a videotape illustrating the use of the library’s resources. However, where these resources are is a mystery. Most of the shelves are labeled, some incorrectly. There are no signs to tell anyone where the card catalogue is or where the bound periodicals are.
After asking the librarian for several locations, I was informed that the signs had been taken down during the summer and not yet put up again--in November. She didn’t know why. Someone must have forgotten, I thought. Meanwhile, students are left to explore or bother the librarian for answers to questions that shouldn’t have to be asked.
Teachers are hired for the sole purpose of communicating facts, ideas and knowledge to other people, directly. Last year, I had an algebra II/trigonometry class at Oak Ridge High School. On one of the teacher’s tests during the spring quarter, 13 people out of 21 received fewer than 50 of the 100 points possible. The teacher thought the students couldn’t learn; the students thought he couldn’t teach. After awhile they gave up--the students were tired, frustrated and confused; the teacher strongly suggested tutors. Some students dropped out, some stayed in confusion, some hired tutors. But no one went to see the teacher.
Just these little things can affect people. Not using turn signals causes accidents and fatalities; the absence of signs in the undergraduate library results in a loss of direction and a loss of time; a lapse in student-teacher interactions lowers grades and self-esteem. But that is not all. I am afraid that all of those little “holes” in our communication are producing individuals who do not communicate.
One of my friends, Marie, recently went away to college. I asked how she was getting along with her roommate. She replied by saying that Monica and she weren’t doing too well--the only time they had really gotten along was at a dorm party one Friday night. They were both drunk and Marie talked to Monica freely.
“Don’t you guys usually talk to each other?”
“Not really. I have nothing to talk about, nothing I want to say to her.”
Marie and Monica had been living together for two months in a college dorm.
Why won’t people communicate?
With turn signals, maybe some think they are unnecessary, that their actions are obvious. Maybe people just forget, as with the signs. Maybe people are just lazy and don’t think communicating is worth the effort--the teachers can’t teach, the students can’t learn. Although I’m sure no one has ever consciously thought this, all of these possibilities point to the idea that “communication isn’t important.”
Why would a society believe that communication isn’t important? They say we are in a “rapidly advancing society.” With so many things going on, it is easier to fall behind, get lost, become confused. Only with communication can we hope to keep up with our advancement. But, maybe that is why we are not communicating--maybe we don’t want to keep up, maybe we don’t want to advance . . . maybe we are scared. It’s true that we are advancing. We can now kill people faster and easier. We now have computers that can perform most of our jobs. I’ll admit, it is scary.
I wonder, however, if we are actually afraid of ourselves. We are the ones who are making all these advances. It’s hard to slow down. The only thing we can do is make things less efficient somehow . . . and more confusing. That’s what a lack of communication achieves. Perhaps that’s why we don’t communicate.
I think it is a fear, a fear of ourselves. But, how do we overcome it?
Like any other fear--by working at it, little by little. I have always been scared to speak in front of others. Whenever I stand on that platform, my hands sweat, my legs shake, my throat dries out so that I can barely talk. I forget lines, pause, lose my place. I go through that every time, but I still get on that platform--I force myself to. And, with every speech I give, I gain a little confidence, lose a little fear. To get over the fear of ourselves, we have to expose ourselves to each other, little by little, by talking, by writing, by gesturing.
We have a big problem; I don’t think there is a “solution”--just a long, hard process of learning to communicate, learning about ourselves. Mom and Dad’s problem started out as just little things--the heating wasn’t heating, Mom didn’t cook dinner until 9 (if at all), the newborn baby had to sleep in the family room of our trailer. Their problems grew and almost led to a divorce.
But, after the letter, Mom calmed down. They tried to talk, figure out what was bothering each other. Then the little things started changing--Mom cooked dinner at 8, we got electric blankets. They tried, and they are still trying.
Just those little things made a difference, though. Just those little things, like turn signals and signs, will help.
