Empathy at the Airport

The other day, I read a few stories about empathy at the airport (links below) and it got me thinking; isn't the airport a great place to grow our empathy, because it's full of people? It's a big concrete box bursting with human beings stuck together in one place for a limited time.

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I'm amazed when I consider how many of us could be in the terminal simultaneously. If you are like me, then maybe you only go to the airport to get from point A to point B. We are the travelers; we are the families going to visit other families or if we are lucky, taking a vacation. We are the employees carrying laptops and going to business meetings.

I know that there are other people who love to fly. I see them posting online about their adventures. For these travel experts, I hear that it's simply a joy for them to move so fast and so far and to put their eyeballs and bodies out there in the cosmos.

I can imagine that there are other kinds of travelers that are going on a one-way trip. The guys who are using boarding passes and suitcases to say good-bye for the last time to their home and everything they've ever known, or the gals who are running to a new future in a new town, without looking back.

Rounding out this mass of humanity are the daily airport workers; our brothers and sisters whose alarm clocks and morning coffees are getting them to the big box every day. They are keeping the place moving and shaking by feeding us, cleaning up after us and speeding us on our way. Souls with hearts and minds and fingers and toes are working at the kiosks and cooking in the restaurants and cleaning the bathrooms. People are shunting us like cattle through the security machines or doing a pat-down, and maybe they love their jobs or maybe they don't. I can't leave out the pilots and co-pilots, the flight attendants and all of the other people for whom the airport is their daily commute. There must also be many people I never see or talk to; employees of the airlines and other businesses, the airport administrators, baggage handlers and air traffic controllers.

It's inspiring to have so many people all together in one building at one time. I see this structured system of commercial travel as an opportunity for us empathy builders, because more people means we've all got a higher probability to meet someone new and learn about an entirely different life. Are you going to the airport soon? Perhaps this is your chance to stretch your empathy muscles.

Here are some great airport stories for you to check out:

Realizing empathy blog - Empathy in Ithaca
Empathy at the Delhi airport
Empathy failure in Atlanta

Here's my latest flying story. Please let me know your flying stories in the comments below, I'd love to hear them.

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On a recent business trip, I was flying next to a man who had never been on an airplane in his life. He was older than me, at least in his fifties. I was busy and so we didn't talk until the plane was landing. He was in the middle leg of a three-flight trip, on his way to South Carolina. He wasn't flying direct, he said, because it was cheaper and he had the time to spare.

He told me he was happy, because he was on his way to see his son and 8 week-old grandson. He explained that the flight was a return trip - he had just finished moving everything he and his wife owned to Chicago. It was a long quiet drive on back roads with a big truck, and there were no good radio stations, but it was beautiful. I was confused, and said, "If your family is in Kentucky, why did you move to Chicago?" He told me that he can't stay in Kentucky anymore. He looked a little sad when he said it, like it was a very hard decision for him.

A few years ago, he said he had retired to take care of his wife. Now they were moving to a new town to support his daughter, who was in school in Chicago. He said, "She's in it for the long haul. She'll be spending the next five years studying and doing apprenticeships for her degree, and then once she gets her certification she'll need to look for a job. All of the jobs for her line of work are in Chicago. My son, though, has a career in South Carolina with his wife and family, and they just bought a new house. So I think I'll be flying back and forth for the next ten years, at least."

I looked in his eyes, which held both joy and fear. I said, "It sounds like you are the end of one journey, and the start of another."

He agreed. We were quiet until we disembarked.

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Please tell us your stories!

Janet

Using empathy is like riding a bicycle

I can ride a bicycle, although it's been many years since I've actually done so. Let's say I'm walking through the park and I see a bicycle lying abandoned on the ground. What are my choices?

I could start by not noticing the bike at all, because I'm thinking about something else.  I could see the bike, pick it up and zip away. Or maybe I'll see it but I won't pick it up; I could hesitate because I'm scared that I'll fall and get hurt. Maybe I'm feeling tired and don't want to ride just then. Or maybe I'll want to be mean; I'll think about pushing it into a lake, or putting holes in the tires. All of these are choices I can make with that bike - to ride it, to ignore it, to break it. Having the skill to ride has given me more options, but doesn't stop me from doing those other things. I have to make a choice.

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I lead an isolated life. I live and work at home, and don't get out much. So when I finally do get out and see people, I slip easily into judging them. I haven't practiced, so again and again I see the bicycle (of empathy) and I choose to not ride it.

Today, for instance, I see a group of women sitting at a table. I overhear them talking and think, "Look at those women over there, wearing pink jumpsuits, talking about how droopy their flesh on their arms looks and reminiscing about old episodes of Blossom. They look like they are having fun, but why do they have to play into those stereotypes of women? Those women are horrible."

Then I remember that I'm the person who wants to try to connect with everyone. I'm trying to understand everyone's point of view. So I think; what if I was sitting with them? Would I be joining their conversation? If we were friends, would I be sneering at them? Probably not. I'd probably be smiling and laughing, just like the others. I'd join in and ask, "How did we ever think Joey was cute (whoa!)."

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Instead of "Growing Empathy" maybe a better name for this blog would have been, "How I try to use and grow my own capacity to empathize with others, and make the effort to use it as often as possible." Although, that would have been a bit long for a Google search. :)

I still believe that empathy is an emotional investment that we can choose to make. I want to learn to have empathy, but also to choose to use it as often as possible, and not to fall so easily into the trap of judgement.

It's time to go ride a bike. Want to join me?

Janet

The right way to do a job - trying to build empathy for Kim Davis

I know that having empathy for a person and agreeing with a person are different. If I disagree with someone, though, it's hard to build empathy for them.

As an example, right now, if you and I were to run into each other at the grocery store we might start talking about the news. We might discuss Kim Davis, elected County Clerk of Rowan County, Kentucky, and how she went to jail for refusing to issue marriage licenses to couples. Ms. Davis has said that she did it because it's now legal to marry in the U.S. if you are gay, and that issuing licenses to gay couples conflicts with her religion.

I believe strongly that civil marriage should be legal between any two people regardless of their sexual orientation, and so I celebrated when the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in favor of this. As a result, I firmly agree with the local Kentucky residents who want to get married. I feel frustration for the men and women who were trying to get married and couldn't get licenses until Ms. Davis went to jail a few days ago.

I feel anger at this woman. I think, why is she choosing to use her position of power to cause disruption in the lives of these people?

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I also believe strongly in keeping my ethics and my work tied together. I had a summer job teaching at a local college many years ago, for Calculus III. This was a difficult class for undergrads; and it was made more difficult because of the intense schedule (we were meeting for 3 hours a day, 3 days a week for 6 weeks). It didn't surprise me that many of the students were unable to learn the subject that quickly, and out of a class of 12; 4 of them were failing out. I was in my office grading papers one day, when there was a knock at the door. I was expecting a student, so was surprised to see an older man I didn't know walk in.

He introduced himself as the Dean of the Chemistry department. He then said that one of my failing students was trying to graduate, and that all they needed was this one class. Could I see any way that they could pass? I told him that, at this point, it would be really hard; they had already failed every weekly test, and the midterm exam, with grades below 50 percent. I said, "If they turn themselves around and get a high score on the final exam, they can pass. " He then asked me, "Could you pass them anyway, even if they fail the final?"

I was floored that he asked me to do this. I looked at him, and repeated, "Only if they get a high score on the final exam." He looked at me and said, "I know you'll do the right thing. Think about it, and when it comes time to submit grades, pass him. " Then he shook my hand and walked out. After he left I sat there for a few minutes; not sure of what to do.

This was horrible! My job is to teach students, and the grades are supposed to reflect that they've learned or not learned the material. I had heard about students trading favors for grades, and I had caught students cheating. This was completely different; this was one teacher asking another to change a student's grade! I was mortified that he would ask; but I wasn't sure what I could do. I thought, well, he's a Dean and I'm just an adjunct professor, I'm pretty sure I have to do what he tells me to do. Also, although this was a summer job I thought I was going to end up teaching for the rest of my life. I was hoping to get a letter of recommendation from this school, and I was worried about what would happen if I did flunk the student. Then I thought, let me see how this kid does on his final exam. I don't need to decide until then.

In the end, the student got only one question right out of ten on the final exam, and I needed to fail him. I decided that it wouldn't be right not to, it wouldn't be fair to the other kids who worked harder to earn their grade. I remember the strong feeling of decisiveness that came over me as I entered his grade and handed it in.

After I submitted the grades, I went to the Dean of the Math Department (my boss) and told him what had happened. He agreed that it was improper, but he didn't say to me if he was going to alert anyone else. I didn't ask for the recommendation letter. Since I didn't end up going into a teaching career, I've never heard from any of them again.

It felt really good standing up for what I felt was right, and doing my job the way I thought it ought to be done.

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I know that teaching a class is very different from being elected Deputy Clerk of a County; but in many ways they are similar. We're both acting based on what we know and believe to be the right way of doing things; and we're both in positions of power; we're making decisions that affect other people's lives.

So when I think about Ms. Kim Davis, I think that her job is to issue marriage licenses, and to determine who is eligible for a license. If I was in her position, I can imagine that maybe she doesn't agree with her bosses definition of eligible (in this case, the government's definition). If I was her, maybe I wouldn't issue a license until I thought about what I was doing, and decided if I agreed or disagreed with it. Maybe I would be trying to talk to my boss, in this case, the government and the people who elected me. Maybe I would be talking with others, friends and family, to see what they would do.

I disagree with her, and I have empathy for her.

Janet