Yes - here's the link to my talk at TEDx Warwick last month - PLAY. LAUGH. SHUT UP. 3 secrets of non-verbal communication.
http://www.tedxwarwick.com/2013/speaker.php?id=16
There were very many wonderful and inspiring people sharing their knowledge, their skills, and themselves during the day. So if you have time, take a look at some of the incredible acts that I had to try and follow!
Yes - last weekend I was lucky enough to be invited to give a talk at TEDx Warwick. It was a FABULOUS experience. I was totally awed by the enormous brains that spoke before me, and I felt truly inconsequential by comparison. But the nigh on 1500 strong crowd made me feel entirely welcome by spontaneously breaking into applause when I mentioned I had played Laa Laa !
The following is a version of my notes for the talk - it's not a transcipt - heaven knows what I actually said. But when the videos are available, I'll post a link.
Thank you to everyone who made it such a great day.
- Professor Smedley of Storytelling -
TED TALK - "PLAY. LAUGH. SHUT UP"
Hello - I’m here to briefly share with you my 3 secrets of non-verbal communication:
My background is in dance and physical theatre.
After 16 years running my company, I moved into children’s television where I played LaaLaa the Teletubby for 7 years - Eh-Oh!
What I learned from Anne Wood and Andy Davenport, who created the programme, about meaningful communication with young children - was invaluable.
In the beginning we got slated for dumbing down language, but the linguist who wrote the show understood the pattern of tiny people learning the tune of language before they necessarily have the lyrics down - listen to a baby or toddler trying to express with sound, and you’ll know it to be true, they understand cadence first (You may have seen the clip of two babies on You Tube?) - DEMO - this is important learning - and that’s where the Tubby language came from.
Similarly, we understood the separation between aural and visual recognition - the viewing child would hear the oral signature song of each character ( in my case LALA LEELA - DEMO ) well in advance of seeing that character arrive - often from far away - giving the child the chance to identify first sound, then colour, then shape and finally - YES - it’s the personality they were expecting . . . and for a child of that young age to be able to make that correct prediction is hugely empowering, and builds deep confidence in their own ability to successfully learn.
In the first place, in that job, I found my training in non-verbal communication useful - what always fascinated me about dance and physical theatre was the direct line of communication that it gives you.
For example, If I am on stage in front of you and physicalise tension - DEMO - the chances are you will feel a kinaesthetic response - so the experienced line of communication goes, putting it crudely, from my brain, to my body, to your body, to your brain. . . by-passing an awful lot of filters.
We are all aware that body language makes up the vast majority of communication, and yet very few humans consciously use this awareness when communicating with each other. . . We don’t really think, “ Oh. That person tilted their head to the right just after I did, therefore we are building a rapport.” But if you have no words, due either to young age or disability - you become highly skilled in picking up and giving off these cues.
Of course, it’s not just what you do, it’s also what you don’t do, there is enormous knowledge to be gained through stillness, in making room and resisting the desire to fill the space - listening with your eyes as well as your ears.
After Teletubbies, I was asked to choreograph another children’s TV show, Boohbah, with the specific brief that the dances should be so infectious, that, without explicit verbal invitation, the child viewer should feel compelled to get up off the sofa and join in.
SO - I knew the movements I chose had to come directly from, or be based on, those that 4 year olds enjoyed and were interested in.
I invented a workshop, where 4-6 children would be invited into the room where I was waiting,- I would wave and smile though - we would stand in front of each other, and I would wait, warmly. Inevitably one of the children would move, and I would copy that movement, no matter how small - and continue to feed back whatever movements or gestures they gave me.
Eventually they would grow in confidence, and start to challenge my commitment to the process - DEMO (finger up nose)- then this wonderful moment when as a group they realised they had
power over me, and could, in effect, get me to do anything.
There was one position that came up again and again - so reliably, that I referred to it as THE POSITION - It’s this . . . DEMO.
It came up in every - but EVERY session, and it took me a while to understand why - it’s because, to the child, they are standing on their hands, this leg here - that’s just a detail, it doesn’t count, at 4 - that’s a handstand.
So I learned something very deep about how the brains of children of that age work - just through awareness whilst playing - and all without any words, or direction from me.
I left TV to work more with REAL young children, and the first job I had in education thereafter, was in an early years setting where a high proportion of the children had English as an Additional Language.
I had to find ways of gently gaining the confidence of those children, and opening lines of communication. I used a lot of props, this is one of my favourites - DEMO (length of fluffy blobs threaded together) - and with the child at one end, and me at the other, I would take the child’s lead as to how far I could move toward them, and at one speed - allowing them to direct to procedure.
This use of a physical representation of the gap between us, giving the child power of choice of when to bridge that gap, and by what increment, built great trust.
I’d like to ask you all to help, if you would, with the next stage of building this bond.
(acknowledge risk of this)
If each row centre block could hold hands for me, please don’t be scared . .. and when I say GO, I’d like everyone at this end of each row to squeeze the hand they are holding. For everyone else, when you feel the squeeze on your right hand, pass it on with your left - when it reaches the person on this end of the row, I’d like you to stand up and yell “US”
DEMO
Apart from the beneficial effects of a bit of laughter and light relief, I’ll wager you all feel a greater affinity, sense of belonging and shared identity with your row than you did before that exercise.
So - next I was invited to work on a project in a special school - I don’t mind admitting that I was terrified. I felt under qualified and inexperienced, however I was given a great piece of advice, which was to remember that despite their individual challenges and needs, these were still above all, children - and whilst being mindful of their particular circumstance, to go to the child, rather than to the disability or issue.
Probably good advice in any situation - the person is the thing - not the information you’ve received about that person!
Everything I had learned about non-verbal, pre-verbal and early verbal communication came into play :
I still work extensively with children and young people, in mainstream and special needs schools - independently as a
children’s writer - inventing work for children for orchestras, galleries, zoos, anyone . . . and (very physical) Storyteller, I tell my own stories - they use rhyme, rhythm and repetition and lots of simple gesturing. I explain that the stories come - DEMO (gestural) - Out of the air, into my brain - Out of my mouth and into your . .ears!
I also work as one fifth of changing cultures - doing just that in education, arts/cultural/business - joining together and opening up lines of communication. Our tagline is, “It all starts with a conversation”, I hope I’ve helped illustrate some of the many and varied forms that a conversation can take.
I’m still Nikky Smedley, and it’s been a pleasure sharing my 3 secrets of non-verbal communication with you - never forget to play, never forget to laugh, always know when it’s time to shut up. . .and for me - that’s now!
Thank you.
My weekly treat is to lie in bed on a Sunday morning reading the Guardian's Weekend magazine whilst consuming bacon.
I am always fascinated by the little column, "Ask a grown-up" where children under 10 offer a single question doing just that. The language and tone that the various specialists and celebrities use to address their young correspondents is really telling and very educational for a person like me, whose working life is taken up mostly with modes of communication across age groups.
At the moment, in a lot of my speaking appointments at conferences and so forth, I find I'm dwelling on the importance of listening to children and young people - in listening we learn how to more effectively communicate.
I'd be really interested in what that Guardian column would be like if it were altered to, "Ask another child".
Pondering this, I was reminded of watching ballet on television one Christmas many, many moons ago with my two young cousins, around 4 and 6 years of age at the time. The boy, the eldest, asked his sister, "What is that lump on the front of the man? That lump, that lump there, at the top of his legs, in front, poking out, what is that?"
I remained silent, eagerly anticipating the explanation. When it came, it was delivered with the serious tone of an academic pronouncing the obvious to the ignorant.
"That is a step. A step so that the lady can get up onto his shoulders."
Read it and weep, grown-ups.
Professor Smedley of Storytelling
Someone I don't know very well (a new partner of a close friend) visited my house over Christmas, and for a while I couldn't understand his guarded behaviour - after 30 minutes or so, it clicked. He'd never been to my house before and had no idea what I did for a living. In my concern for his wellbeing, I suddenly looked around the room as if I were looking through his eyes.
A large elephant in one chair, a plain callico stuffed figure the size of a child in another, skulls, rabbits, a strange purple cushion creature, snakey medusa crown and tiny voodoo like dolls met my gaze.
"Um - I think I should explain, I'm a puppeteer."
His relief was palpable. He must have thought I was a strange friendless individual, who, despite being in middle age, surrounded herself with freakish toys.
I was reminded of when I was filming the first series of Teletubbies, and the four of us lived in a Cotswold hotel for the season. Seated in the lounge one evening, awaitng our supper, with a bowl of peanuts in the centre of the table, we spontaneously formed scuttling little dinosaur creatures with our hands, who competed and cavorted around the table top, each trying to accumulate the largest pile of peanuts, stealing them from each other, inventing games, exuding triumph and pathos by turn. All in silence.
We were suddenly aware that we were holding the gaze of most of the other patrons in the room. The waitress, noticing this, nodded towards us with her head, and explained to the room in a conspiratorial whisper, "Puppeteers ..." An understanding "Ahaaaaaa" was the reply.
It is a strange thing that people like us puppeteers cannot resist bringing things to life - are we more aware of, or more terrified of death - or are we in greater denial than the rest of the grown-ups?
I choose these words carefully (it's my job!) because when I play with children, the vast majority are more than eager to find the life - the stories - within things. Is it because they are the furthest away from the end of their own story?
The thing doesn't have to be humaniform - when I work in schools, the children and I can find stories within pens, balls, lamps, shoes, anything . . . sometimes an object's character or story seems obvious, sometimes you have to look a little harder to find it - I expect there are more of us who have played with one of those corkscrews with arms and a wee hollow head, for example, than have come close to inventing something on a par with Chaplin's wonderful bread roll dance.
If a child comes into my house for the first time, they are either completely unphased by the tools of my trade that populate and share my living space, or delighted that an adult has not forgotten how to breathe being into inanimate objects, and is therefore probably up for play.
There's something to be learned, I think, from this child's eye view, and certainly a lot of fun to be had - so go on, no-one's looking, what characters live in your lounge . . . ?
Professor Smedley of Storytelling
Well it's hard to believe where Storytelling has taken me over the last couple of months.
From writing a brand new piece for my performance at Ludlow Assembly Rooms, as part of the annual food festival, "Fantasy Cookery for Children and Exceptional Grown-Ups", to adapting a Christmas tale, "The Christmas Wish" for the magazine, and online resource for primary schools, "Springboard Stories".
But perhaps the most surprising aspect has been how some 'Exceptional Grown-Ups' have wanted to make use of the storytellers art.
I am currently working with CBSO on their latest event for school children (this one is aimed at Year 3) bringing together a programme around road safety, sponsored by DBS lawyers. A 10 piece offshoot of the orchestra will be performing repertoire and specially commissioned music by Vicky Arlidge, with words by yours truly - the debut isn't until the end of January - but with creation, arrangement, tweaking and rehearsals to take place before then, it doesn't seem that far away.
I was also invited to attend the Music Leaders conference at Midlands Arts Centre, spending one day pulling together the story of a day, dedicated to exploring work bringing together music and people with learning difficulties - with fabulous workshops from W.N.O., Richard Hayhow (ex Shysters) and Louise Braithwaite from Orchestra of the Swan amongst others. The preceding day was spent facilitating a deep and fulfilling discussion between some of the Music Hub Leaders in the West Midlands - fascinating stuff, and totally heart-warming to hear how passionate these people still are about the power of music in education, and how seriouslty they take their role in trying to protect it's continuation.
Both days were a privilege to be part of, and I'm very much looking forward to some follow up work that has arisen as a result of my initial involvement. . . onwards and upwards .
Professor Smedley of Storytelling