Dialogue with a Capital “D”
How SFU’s Semester in Dialogue changed the course of my life
When Simon Fraser University’s (SFU) Semester in Dialogue Director, Janet Moore, made the announcement that she was leaving the Centre for Dialogue, it brought back a flood of memories from a short six week period of my life that defined my life and career. And so, as a tribute to CityStudio and Semester in Dialogue, I thought it was high time that I document my learnings from that experience six years later.
When I sat down with Janet Moore in her office at the Centre, just on the corner of Harbour Centre in Downtown Vancouver, I was immediately transported to a safe space where one might offer a visitor a warm cup of tea with a generous dollop of honey from Hives for Humanity. That was the vibe I remember when I walked through that office door.
Janet was kind, and listened to my story and what brought me to her office that day. I didn’t prepare anything beforehand; didn’t study Vancouver city initiatives like “Greenest City 2020”, nor studied up on the stakeholders involved in the project I would be working on as part of the first semester of the Outdoor Learning Project. Instead I opened my heart and poured emotion into why I was there.
I was there because I grew up learning how to embrace the natural world. I was there because I had empathy for the homeless sitting on the streets at the bottom of Harbour Centre. I was there because I had a need to document the world around me from a lens of empathy, kindness, and joy. That was what brought me through her office door on that overcast, typical Vancouver afternoon. I remember scrolling through my Instagram profile showing her some street photography photos I had taken.
Needless to say, I was surprised and overjoyed when I received an offer to join the Outdoor Learning Project, as one of the two design students from my program, SFU’s School of Interactive Arts and Technology. The project brought together a thinking hub of students of varying backgrounds, disciplines, and schools. There was a Langara student who danced, a UBC geography student, and others from SFU who majored in biology, health sciences, communications, and sociology to name a few. It was ultimately a gathering of young folks who had no idea what they really signed up for when they applied.
From a fly on the wall’s perspective, here was a group of 20 students, sitting in a large circle in the middle of a grassy meadow in late May of 2015 (many of us had allergies to grass, and so naturally some students were stuffed up or had watering eyes). And yet, Dialogue as a concept was beginning to grow and flourish into its own entity. It started becoming an entity with its own name, rhythm, and took on a life of its own. The transition from “dialogue” to “Dialogue” was significant and greatly changed the quality of our conversations as we progressed through the semester.
I remember training my brain to stop surging ahead, to be at rest as quieter voices came forward. I remember feeling anxious when facilitating conversations with stakeholders, always putting my participants ahead of my own lines of thought that needed to be voiced at the time. I also remember a deep, calm heartbeat when I was able to master my own fears of saying the wrong thing.
A voice I didn’t know I had came forth. I began to speak more confidently, wearing my heart on my sleeve but not letting it get the best of me. The small voice of truth I had been suppressing my whole life finally broke through the hardened walls I had built around my heart and I was finally able to let that voice speak out.
One conversation I clearly remember was on the topic of beauty. The conversation stayed in the realm of physical beauty, like the beauty of a sunset or the frost crystals that collect on the edges of leaves. Those are beautiful in their own way. But I remember being bothered by that, because “beauty” to me has so much more weight to it.
The small voice within me welled up with tears that bubbled up to fill my eyes as I opened my mouth to speak. I said, “Beauty can be found in a sunset, and also in the crystals of sand found by the ocean. But I believe that beauty can also be found in things that cannot be easily seen. Beauty to me, is the potential I see in my piano students when they overcome a passage that was so tough for them for weeks on end. Saying that something is beautiful has more weight than calling something ‘pretty’. Beauty stems far below the layer of skin that often packages nouns we normally describe as being ‘pretty’. Saying, ‘You’re beautiful,’ to your loved one means, ‘I see you, and I see all of you. Even the broken parts. And I still love you.’ That’s what beauty is to me.”
My heart rate immediately picked up as soon as I finished making that statement, as though I was a little embarrassed by my own voice. Silence fell across the circle and it took a few minutes for the conversation to recover as my words sunk in.
The power of Dialogue didn’t leave when I finished my course that summer. Dialogue, when I am aware of it and respect it, allows my inner voice to stay calm, collected, and confident. I can say the right things when I’m put under pressure, and I can trust that about myself as long as I protect my energy. As long as I protect that calm, steady heartbeat.
I’m not sure what specific point I’m trying to make while sharing my story, but I do know that it needed to be recorded and shared. The Dialogue pedagogy is no walk in the park, nor was it easy to create or convince others that it was worth pursuing as a university. I have so many people I could thank for that, but for now I will let this story rest as it is.
Thank you Janet Moore and Mark Winston for making Dialogue flourish. May it continue to grow in its own way in the future of education.
