Hannah: I really enjoyed the way we approached our most recent blog topic. I asked Alaina if she would be excited about doing another discussion style series of posts. As Alaina and I often ride the same wavelength, but not elevator(sigh), she was happy to engage in another conversation using our blog as the medium. So here is round two. Recently, I have been thinking about my ‘elevator speech’ for Speech & Language Pathology. I find it challenging to describe what we do as professionals (and researchers) in a succinct yet meaningful way. I suppose one could argue that translation to individuals outside of one’s area of expertise (or to the general public) is difficult irrespective of the field. But that’s not the point. The point is, I want to better develop my ‘elevator speech’ because it is an opportunity to advocate for the populations we serve and the field I love.
Alaina: I see what you’re saying about conversing with different-minded people. One way to be sure to experience intellectual confrontation is to get in a conversation with someone with a basic philosophical disagreement. But under what circumstances do these conversations (with people who use different clinical practices) feel like they lead toward expanding wisdom, and under what circumstances do these conversations feel...for lack of a better term, annoying? Sometimes when I talk to someone I disagree with, I feel like I can see a problem from a different perspective, and sometimes when I talk to someone I disagree with I just feel more attached to my own ideas. Reading over what you said again, I see you used the phrase “cultivating that type of relationship.” I like that idea. It seems like a cultivated relationship, cultivated to support exploring differences in ideas, could make the intellectual confrontation something to enjoy rather than something to be afraid of.
Hannah: What about professional relationships with people whose clinical experiences and/or philosophy are very different from your own? You mentioned support from professionals and parents who believe our methodology. I know there are professionals with whom I have interacted who have practiced very differently from me (and likely whose clinical expertise is very different from mine). Maybe cultivating that type of relationship is one way that we could become more enthusiastic about an approach? That is, the conversation we may have with someone in which we examine a treatment approach may be more motivating and valid than an internal dialogue in which we potentially avoid asking difficult questions.
Hannah: Yes! I totally agree about how painful it may to confront a belief in a treatment approach. We have invested time, cognitive and creative energy personalizing it for a client, so in one sense, it has become personal for us, too. I think one of the biggest realizations I had when I first became a clinician (and it was a realization that emerged slowly) was just how “personally” I could take therapy even if I was thoughtful about leaving “work” at work. But to answer your question, I don’t think it necessarily has to be painful. There is a word in your question that is important, “ongoing.” It seems reasonable that we want to find the solution that is going to be the perfect approach for our client. But, perhaps the perfect approach is not the end but the means, or the process, that we use to get there. We know our client is dynamic, so maybe we will begin to love the ongoing questioning of ‘is this really working’ when we accept that our approach may have to change even if it previously was successful. Do you think that we resist asking those tough, “Is this really working?,” questions because confronting them requires more of our resources?