Some accuse me of being idealistic. They say the stuff I talk about is soft. I’ll never forget the first time I gave a speech that Lisa attended; she said it sounded pretty “whippy-wowie.” Yet, none of the criticism over the years has stopped me from, in my own inelegant, mostly disjointed way, striving to make a living teaching others (and myself) to communicate better.

After all, when I’m asked how I got into my work, I always rewind the story back to the same spot in my life. I recount the joy I experienced in teaching public speaking and coaching the speech team at San Diego State University in the mid-80’s. I tell about how much fun it was to stand in front of students and genuinely claim that no matter what they wanted to do someday after graduation, that a class on human communication would be the most important class they could take. Bar none. Fast forward twenty-five years to me standing in front of a classroom of 35 fourth and fifth graders (one of them being Marissa), imploring them to take every opportunity they could find to get better at communicating, not only speaking out loud their book share reports, but in as many chances as they could create to work and communicate with others every day.

Soon after that talk last year, a new facet of my practice emerged. Creating provocative and practical conversations in schools about bettering communication. The saying is right; “The more things change, the more they stay the same.”

Here are some questions that are provoking the work in this area:

• What can be done to prepare children to deal with the fear they will discover as they encounter big moments in their lives and careers?
• What is it that makes communication so important to get better at?
• If young people aren’t actively taught to communicate better, what limit does that put on the ultimate value of investing in math and science education?
• How many parents or teachers do you know who are productive role models of good communication, especially when it comes to listening, presentation, and being constructively candid?
• Are the workplaces we create the kind of places we’d want our children to work in?

I’m committed to finding as many audiences (of all ages) who do the hard work on this. Some early reactions I’m getting will be the subject of writing in this space and others. And surely there are other ways that social media will help in the fight.

Speaking of the fight, I welcome the skeptics and the cynics and their doubts. I happily line up on the side of choosing to contribute and not blame; to teach rather than complain. I believe that Dr. King got it right many years ago when he said that:

“An individual has not started living until he can rise above the narrow confines of his individualistic concerns to the broader concerns of all humanity.”

That’s where I’m going. You?

Almost seven years ago, Malcolm Gladwell stood on stage and reminded his listeners of what is to me, a fundamental, undeniable, discomforting truth. To do that, he, as many, many have, repeated a Yiddish saying. “To a worm in horseradish, all the world is horseradish,” As with a lot of what Mr. Gladwell produces, that reminder (as a reminder should) made me think. It’s important to this reference that you know that on September 8th, my 53rd birthday and the Eve of the Jewish New Year 5771 collided.

Moments like birthdays and New Years move me to pause, take stock, and not only look around, but also look inside for ways to keep growing...to keep living. I feel that’s a fairly productive way to spend those moments. Beats the crap out of being depressed by it, and complaining and blaming and wishing it was different.

Not that you and I are exactly slimy, spineless creatures, but the sages made a really good point. Seeing things differently is impossible to do when all you can see is what you see. I haven’t met someone, especially in my work, who can easily pause, look around and inside, and make adjustments in the direction of their choices. (Even when we get a birthday and a New Year at the same time!) Notice I wrote “easily.” As I have suggested before, anyone can change. Let’s just accept how hard it is to generate the beliefs and actions to keep it going long enough for it become “real.” To do that demands deliberate choices over time. A client who I admire for what he’s creating with his leadership told me that real change demands two things, a clear sense of where you’re trying to go, and frequent reminders of what it will take to get there.

In that spirit and as the inaugural question of my New Year,

Do you value the horseradish you see?

From here on in, for as long and from as many directions as possible, I will generate reminders to pause, to look around and inside. If, indeed, you value and are sustained by your horseradish, so be it. Keep going. But just know that your thoughts and actions and most of what happens to you flows from what you see.

Even a worm can turn. Imagine what you can do.