We rarely find moments when we can spare a couple of hours to meet our friends, boil some water for tea or coffee, and have a genuine conversation. No elevator pitches, no bragging about our latest projects. All we need to do is leave the constant buzz of politics, gossip and background noise outside the room and simply talk. No small talk, no big talk. Just a regular one. The kind that fits on the sofa without breaking it.
We get to know people better when we learn about their favorite tea flavor, their recent engagement in new projects or their decision to take a break from them. We understand more when they spill the tea or when they choose to stay silent. The elevator pitch culture kills authenticity. Not because it makes us brag about successes we may or may not have, but because it makes us afraid of being judged for sharing our failures. Even (or especially) with those closest to us.
As a language trainer, I find it essential to develop my conversation skills. And I don’t just mean vocabulary or grammar (though those matter too). Active listening and building rapport with my students have become my top priorities. One day I’ll probably write more about my approach, but there’s one skill that many of us develop over our careers. A rare talent these days. We’ve learned that it’s possible to have enjoyable and meaningful conversations with almost anyone. You just need to find the right doors and the key. It’s that simple.
When we talk, not just chat, but truly talk, we discover how much we have in common. A shared laugh, a similar struggle, a memory that suddenly makes sense only when spoken out loud. We realize that even when our lives look completely different on the surface, there’s often a quiet thread connecting our stories underneath.
Conversations are a kind of mirror. They show us not only who the other person is, but who we are when we listen attentively, when we don’t rush to fill the silence. In those moments, we stop performing and start connecting.
These conversations can be challenging, sometimes uncomfortable or even unpredictable, especially in an intercultural context. But that’s also what makes it powerful. They’ve made me question things I took for granted, revisit some of my assumptions, and occasionally realize I maybe I should have alter a thing or two. And that, my dear, is a very good thing.
I’m grateful that by supporting others in learning languages, I get to expand my own knowledge about the world, new technologies, company cultures, and, last but not least, fish reproductive systems. I keep finding myself curious about the most unexpected things. And these conversations drive me.
All the best,
Iza