I started thinking about the request, "Tell me more about that," when I read one of Rebekah Jordan's thoughtful newsletters on the topic. I recommend her weekly emails, which you can check out and/or subscribe to by clicking on the photo of her company's website above.
As you know (probably, since almost everyone who reads this blog knows me personally), I'm an English teacher and class dean, not a therapist or counselor. At one point, I considered getting a master's degree in social work to pivot my career toward counseling, but instead I decided it would be more fun to get a Master of Fine Arts in Creative Writing. It was for one of my classes for that degree that I started this weekly blog. I don't regret my decision. I loved the program and enjoy writing. Someday, I'll manage to polish up one of the many novel drafts kicking around in my computer enough to get something published. (Hey, while I'm on the topic, if you (1) like reading YA and/or romance novels, (2) are willing to give honest feedback, and (3) want to be an alpha reader, I can hook you up.)
Without for a second regretting my choice to pursue the MFA, I do sometimes think about what helpful skills I'd have developed if I'd taken the alternate path. In my dean role (way more than in my English-teaching job), kids come to me when they are upset. As a person who likes fixing problems, my instinct is always to offer suggestions and help them know how best to move forward. However, as so many people before me have figured out, jumping to suggestions often makes the person feel worse for two main reasons:
- Even when someone says what's bothering them, the stated reason isn't always the underlying cause for concern. If I offer a solution too quickly, I may well be putting a bandage on the wrong cut.
- People want to be heard and known more than they want to be fixed. When I leap to a cure, I'm not only missing the point of hearing them, I'm implying that they're (1) broken and (2) unable to handle their own problems.
Making myself a safe space to unload is way better than giving advice. Moreover, by saying the right things (and not saying the unhelpful ones), I can assist the person at getting to both the the root of what's upsetting them and any possible next steps. The question, "Can you please tell me more about that?" helps people who have come to me in frustration or anger or sadness know that I'm eager to help them work through the concerns while keeping them at the center of their own issues. I'm not the expert who knows more than they do (about themselves) but I'm here to assist as I can.
Have you ever tried "tell me more about that" in a conversation? How'd it go? Please share any responses you have in the comments.
Hi Carita, I struggle constantly with being “the fixer.” I’m a problem solver by nature and it takes A LOT of self-awareness in the moment to restrain myself. Then I heard about a question, like yours, that puts a pause on things and helps me respond in a way that serves the other person and not my compulsion to take action and make it okay. That question is, “Do you want to be helped, heard, or hugged?”
I love that question and will steal it. I totally agree that often, my main goal is to pause my desire to jump in with answers. Once I’ve taken time to evaluate, the “answers” needed aren’t always solutions I originally thought up.
I also struggle with this–particularly as a parent. Someone recently suggested a similar line: do you want comfort or a solution? Fixer solidarity!
Yes, I like that question.