This week the students in my Advanced Composition class are writing about miscommunication. In this era of 24-hour connections via computer and television, examples of misfires are all around us. The class began by brainstorming a list of miscommunications based on different accents, cultures, customs and beliefs. Then we proceeded to more abstract failures in understanding: language that’s too technical for our level of expertise, or that assumes a perspective we don’t share. Even our gender, according to author Deborah Tannen (“You Just Don’t Understand Me”), leads to communication that’s rife with misunderstanding.
With all these potential sources for miscommunication, it’s a miracle we ever understand one another at all! Yet we are driven to connect more frequently than ever before. People update one another by e-mail, text message, Twitter and Facebook. Those technologies, however, create new areas of miscommunication; virtual messages are often without benefit of facial expression or voice intonation, leading one person’s “joke” to become another’s insult.
My students have a wealth of experience to draw on as they record a particular miscommunication and reflect on its significance. Topics range from family members, roommates or co-workers who don’t understand one another, to workplaces where communication is so technical as to require language study as part of orientation.
Yet students cite almost as many examples of effective communication as examples of barriers to understanding. Communication is complex and sometimes rewards us with surprise connections. One student was able to communicate with the deaf parents of a friend, even without benefit of sign language, and several others narrated interactions in foreign countries where hand gestures and pictures took the place of a common language.
As an English teacher, a primary task is to help students learn to communicate effectively. It may seem ironic that I am asking students to write effectively about miscommunication, yet their awareness of how easy it is to misunderstand leads them to a heightened awareness of how wonderful it is to achieve understanding. As they examine a text message exchange gone wrong, or an e-mail retort that makes it clear the recipient hasn’t read the original e-mail carefully, they are able to isolate the sources of missed connections.
Carelessness is one such source: We may not read or listen carefully, and completely miss the intent of the other person’s communication. Or the context of an interaction leads us to make assumptions that later turn out to be groundless. Alternatively, students may see that careful attention can bypass what someone seems to be saying. A reprimand can show that someone cares enough about you to recommend a change, or praise can be delivered so it sounds very “faint.” (“Your paper/report/memo is interesting, but …”)
I have concluded that asking students to reflect on and write about misunderstanding leads to revelations about what underlies both poor and effective communication. We are often offended not by what someone has said, but the way they’ve said it, and avoiding that pitfall is key to success in relationships at home and work. In asking my students to focus on a revealing example of miscommunication from their own experience, I hope they achieve greater insight into how to avoid such misunderstandings in the future.
Erica Jacobs, whose column appears Wednesday, teaches at George Mason University. E-mail her at [email protected].
