Can you hear me?
Taken from my agricultural communications blog. We had to reflect on any aspect of communications, and this i what sprang to mind.
Some people excel in math. Some enjoy the sciences. Others are passionate about working with their hands and creating structure out of chaos.
Some are writers.
We all fall into our own niches as we progress through years of school and life experience, and often this translates into falling away from the things we’re just not as good at. I’ve taken a total of two math classes in my time at Cal Poly, and that’s more than enough for me.
Math, though, is this funny thing that tends to be a backbone for so much of life. My animal nutrition class was probably 70% math. Economics, even more so. I use basic arithmetic a few times a month when taking care of my finances. It’ll sneak up on me in the unlikeliest of places; however, it’s still a skill that I use infrequently.
Communication, by contrast, is something humans use every single day of their lives. We don’t even need to open our mouths to communicate – we’re adept at conveying messages through our eyes, facial expressions and bodies. For the most part, we’re pretty good at that. It’s when we open our mouths – or open our minds onto reams of paper or blinking computer screens – that the problems start. Suddenly, we can’t process ideas that seem so crystal clear in our minds. Our fingers fumble, red squiggly lines pop up under seemingly harmless words, and papers come back riddled with wounds.
To be honest, I don’t have these issues too often. I’m not a brilliant communicator by any means, but it’s what I feel most comfortable doing. Words, for the most part, come easily to me. I only say this because I have no qualms admitting that I’m terrible at most math; it’s just not my strong point. Writing, though, is my escape. It opens up incredible worlds for me and gives me that chance to flex my brain muscles, to explore ideas and share my views with the world. The great thing about writing is that it can always be improved. I tend to ramble; my biggest struggle now is making my work tight. Snappy. Effective yet flowing, poetic, and powerful. This is why I cringe when I see others struggling with basic communications. I don’t believe everyone should be able to crank out flowing essays or pen sonnets, just as I don’t believe I should be able to solve geometric proofs on a whim. But I do expect my peers to have the ability to write clearly and effectively. I hold myself to the same standard in my weak spots: when faced with a math problem or any other type of puzzler that I’m not familiar with, I seek help or do my own research until I come up with a quality solution. I expect other students and professionals to be able to write an error-free letter, email, or newsletter. The cool thing about writing is that we have these crazy things called dictionaries and style guides that have all the answers. It would be like giving me a little book with the solution to every math problem ever created. All anyone has to do is take thirty seconds to find the correct word, spelling, punctuation, or usage. Naturally, I get a bit annoyed when people – especially those who deem themselves professionals – can’t seem to take the time to check their writing. It boils down to respect: respect for the audience and respect for the language. Communication is an essential part of daily life, and it doesn’t take much to get it right.
