It seems the only right thing to do in a situation like this - becoming a Senior Advisor in a company my dad started with Jo - is to introduce myself. Certainly, there is an introduction on the About Us page of the website, but that tells you what I’ve done; it doesn’t tell you who I am.
Growing up with Chris and Sally Candlin for parents meant our family life was filled with words. Communication at 10,000 of them a second. It wasn’t my parents, however, but my English teachers at school who took the little spark called words, blew ever so gently on it to create a flame, and with their commitment to their students, English language and literature, they diligently fanned it into a roaring fire of passion within me for communication. Transformative communication.
Jackie, one of my English teachers and one of my greatest cheerleaders, asked us one day to take out our notebooks and pens. She explained that she was going to play some music, and we had to write. “Write what miss?” I asked. “Anything,” said Jackie. And so I did, as did my classmates. I have no idea what I wrote that day; all I knew was that being given the opportunity to write anything for no reason whatsoever was a gift. It wasn’t going to be marked; it wasn’t even going to be shared with our teacher if we didn’t want to. We could just let our brains and our creativity go.
Decades later, I asked her why she created that exercise for us. Jackie was a new teacher. We were her first group of children to go from 1st year secondary school right through to A-level with her. She told me she simply wanted to give a bunch of kids from the Northwest of England the opportunity to be expressive without fear of judgement. To use their words to communicate whatever it was they wanted to say but had never been given permission to articulate.
I took a different communication route to my parents. I became a community psychologist and for over 30 years worked with some of Sydney’s most vulnerable families with incredibly complex situations. Along the way, I completed a Master’s in Psychology and Linguistics, and here I am.
Linguistics is the science of language and communication, but that’s only half the story. Linguistics comes alive in the shopping centre, in the hospital, in the classroom and in the one-to-one conversation between two people. Language has incredible power; for connection and disconnection. I am wholeheartedly committed to ensuring language breeds connection, and that takes thought and challenge and awkward conversations.
I started as I mean to go on in the conversation I had with Jo about announcing mum’s death. It was the first time I had properly read and unpacked the website. Almost the first thing I saw was the words “passed away” in the paragraph about Dad’s premature death. I awkwardly, but without apology, asked Jo to change the wording to ‘died’ and to use ‘died’ when talking about Mum. I am my father’s daughter after all.
I am a woman who has a reputation for calling out poor use of language and ensuring that we don’t hide behind words especially when we’re talking about challenging things. I felt it would be hypocritical to have those words on the website when I actively discourage people from using non-words in their conversations about difficult things. By using non-words with non-meaning we risk disconnection. When we use meaningful words with meaningful non-verbal communication we invite connection. When we build connection with someone, we take one step towards transformation; theirs, ours and our community. So, no more ‘passed away’ or ‘passed’ or ‘late’. Someone died, let’s honour that. Do we have a deal?
I love to engage in conversation about these things, so please feel free to add your comments and thoughts.
Angharad
Growing up with Chris and Sally Candlin for parents meant our family life was filled with words. Communication at 10,000 of them a second. It wasn’t my parents, however, but my English teachers at school who took the little spark called words, blew ever so gently on it to create a flame, and with their commitment to their students, English language and literature, they diligently fanned it into a roaring fire of passion within me for communication. Transformative communication.
Jackie, one of my English teachers and one of my greatest cheerleaders, asked us one day to take out our notebooks and pens. She explained that she was going to play some music, and we had to write. “Write what miss?” I asked. “Anything,” said Jackie. And so I did, as did my classmates. I have no idea what I wrote that day; all I knew was that being given the opportunity to write anything for no reason whatsoever was a gift. It wasn’t going to be marked; it wasn’t even going to be shared with our teacher if we didn’t want to. We could just let our brains and our creativity go.
Decades later, I asked her why she created that exercise for us. Jackie was a new teacher. We were her first group of children to go from 1st year secondary school right through to A-level with her. She told me she simply wanted to give a bunch of kids from the Northwest of England the opportunity to be expressive without fear of judgement. To use their words to communicate whatever it was they wanted to say but had never been given permission to articulate.
I took a different communication route to my parents. I became a community psychologist and for over 30 years worked with some of Sydney’s most vulnerable families with incredibly complex situations. Along the way, I completed a Master’s in Psychology and Linguistics, and here I am.
Linguistics is the science of language and communication, but that’s only half the story. Linguistics comes alive in the shopping centre, in the hospital, in the classroom and in the one-to-one conversation between two people. Language has incredible power; for connection and disconnection. I am wholeheartedly committed to ensuring language breeds connection, and that takes thought and challenge and awkward conversations.
I started as I mean to go on in the conversation I had with Jo about announcing mum’s death. It was the first time I had properly read and unpacked the website. Almost the first thing I saw was the words “passed away” in the paragraph about Dad’s premature death. I awkwardly, but without apology, asked Jo to change the wording to ‘died’ and to use ‘died’ when talking about Mum. I am my father’s daughter after all.
I am a woman who has a reputation for calling out poor use of language and ensuring that we don’t hide behind words especially when we’re talking about challenging things. I felt it would be hypocritical to have those words on the website when I actively discourage people from using non-words in their conversations about difficult things. By using non-words with non-meaning we risk disconnection. When we use meaningful words with meaningful non-verbal communication we invite connection. When we build connection with someone, we take one step towards transformation; theirs, ours and our community. So, no more ‘passed away’ or ‘passed’ or ‘late’. Someone died, let’s honour that. Do we have a deal?
I love to engage in conversation about these things, so please feel free to add your comments and thoughts.
Angharad
