Just Say It
Actions speak longer than words, but not louder
How do you communicate to a group of people that they matter to you? That you take their goals, their progress, their futures seriously?
Imagine twenty-five strangers in an introductory fine arts class at a small university in suburban Australia, meeting their American teacher for the very first time.
How do you get them to understand that you’re not teaching this class to make a few extra bucks, or to satisfy some requirement for permanent faculty status, or because you just like to be in charge of a group of people who have to do what you say or they’ll fail the class? How do you get them to see that you genuinely, truly want to be in that room, teaching those people, about this subject matter, because you believe in their potential?
That was the question I faced as I prepared for my first class as a university lecturer.
The reason this question matters is that young people who pursue the arts are forced to confront an “innocent until proven guilty” mindset from most of the people around them. They’re assumed to be talentless, or burnouts, or underachievers, or dream-chasers who will ultimately realize they don’t have a shot at earning a living and revert to a more traditional career path. That is, unless they actually achieve some measurable career success.
But a teacher cannot function with that mindset and be impactful. For a teacher to do anything worthwhile, they have to resolutely believe in the unlimited potential of every one of their students. I had to walk into that room and assume that every person in it was in the early stages of a journey that would ultimately lead them to creative brilliance.
How do you get a class to understand all of that in the first five minutes of a 12-week course?
The answer, it turns out, is pretty simple:
You tell them.
In the first moments of my first lesson with each group of students, I share a story from a decade ago.
I tell them that between June of 2013 and July the following month, absolutely nothing changed about my talent, commitment, career aspirations, or goals as a songwriter. I was the exact same person in June as I was in July of that year, aged 20 and living at my parents house.
But suddenly, from one month to the next, people started taking my career aspirations very, very seriously.
What changed?
A record label wrote me a really big check.
I then tell the students that in the arts, so much of your growth happens behind closed doors, as you hammer away at your craft in isolation, trying to get better, figure yourself out, find out what kind of X, Y, or Z you’re going to be.
It’s not until some external validation comes that many people in your life begin to take you seriously for your work. It’s not their fault. How would they know?
But I end the story by saying that I’m not their parents, or their girlfriend, or their uncle they see at holiday get-togethers. It’s not their job to prove their potential to me. I ask each student to listen closely, and look me in the eyes, and really hear what I’m about to say.
And then I tell them:
I’m here because I take you seriously.
I don’t do this to be dramatic, or to try and become some Dead Poets Society, life-changing cool teacher that helps them discover the artist within themselves.
I do it because I believe that in our relationships and interactions as human beings, we try to do a whole lot of showing and not nearly enough telling.
Sometimes, there’s power in just saying the damn thing you want someone to know.
So why don’t we tell each other what we want to say more often?
Because we are a culture that values action.
We believe somewhere deep inside us that it’s not enough to tell someone something, you have to prove it through the things you do. Words will never be enough if we don’t back up those words with how we act.
Saying all the right things but doing all the wrong things makes our words hollow.
Love is a verb, we like to say. And that’s true.
But love is a word.
And when we use them right, words can be something actions cannot: immediate and unambiguous.
When it comes to a class full of busy college students, some of whom might be coming from another class in which the lecturer might be distracted or burnt out, or perhaps coming from a home in which they’re not given unconditional support, those busy college students will naturally enter with certain assumptions.
Personally? I don’t want to spend 12 weeks trying to disprove those assumptions. I may not have that long. Students already enter a fine arts class with a bit of skepticism and self-consciousness. They’re often waiting for an excuse to drop the class, or simply stop showing up entirely.
We all have an instinct to live the things we believe and let that be enough. But this has led us to let too many things go unsaid, sometimes until it’s too late. Letting our actions do all the talking requires time, and it requires your audience to be paying attention.
Within the first five minutes of the first class, I want all my students to get a clear, unambiguous, direct communication that’s not open to interpretation:
I take you seriously. This isn’t a joke or a gig to me. For as long as we’re in this room together, I’m going to take my role as your teacher seriously. I assume unlimited potential in each of you, and I’m going to treat you accordingly as long as you’re in this class.
This isn’t an essay about teaching.
It’s about how we can more deeply connect with the people around us.
It’s about challenging the assertion that “actions speak louder than words.”
They don’t.
Actions speak longer than words.
Actions prove the legitimacy of our words in an ongoing way.
But the words we say to each other matter. There’s value in saying the simple things that communicate where we stand in relation to the people around us, their needs, their struggles, their potential.
I know this has been a hard week for you.
I’m extremely proud of you.
I love hanging out with you.
I’m sorry I seem distracted, I’m just really tired today.
I’m grateful to you for giving me this opportunity.
I want to do the best work I can.
I really admire you as a person.
I love you.
When it comes to our relationships, both in our personal lives and careers, we don’t have the luxury of choosing between words and actions. We need both.
If you’re ever worried that someone doesn’t know how you feel about them, there’s a very simple way to make sure they’re paying attention.
Say it.
Then get to work backing it up.
Love.