Without Dr. John Baxter’s encouragement, I wouldn’t be writing this article today.
When I was an undergrad at Dalhousie University, Dr. Baxter taught the required Shakespeare course, something I looked forward to with about the same level of interest as I anticipated going to the dentist.
I didn’t expect the learning experience to be painful, but I didn’t think it would be pleasant either. I just knew if I wanted to earn an English Honors degree, I’d have to sit through Dr. Baxter’s seminar once a week, and I figured that couldn’t be any worse than getting my teeth scraped while I listened to the inevitable rant about flossing.
What I didn’t know was that the Shakespeare course would transform the way I thought about myself and how I could contribute to a conversation. I hold Dr. Baxter personally responsible for illuminating my path to grad school and 25+ years of teaching in university and corporate settings.
It wasn’t the subject matter that changed me—it was the way Dr. Baxter invited shy students like me into the group discussion. His approach to fostering deep, constructive conversation revealed to me a secret power I hadn’t recognized in myself: the ability to ask challenging questions.
At 19, I was so introverted and socially awkward that my main goal in any seminar was to keep my head down and escape with saying as few words as possible. The Shakespeare class had attracted students of a voluble, theatrical type, and they had no trouble filling the two hours with their commentary. It wasn’t hard for me to stay within my cocoon of silence.
Until Dr. Baxter posed his question. A gifted and intuitive teacher, he had a knack for drawing out reticent students like me. When the chatty students started to repeat themselves, he’d intentionally bring fresh voices into the conversation. After a few weeks, I started to recognize this pattern. I knew that at some point, I’d hear that heart-stopping question: “Dawn, what do you think?”
I’m not a Shakespeare fan, remember, and Dr. Baxter insisted that we read the Bard in the Oxford edition, without modern spellings and with few footnotes. So most weeks, I felt I had a pretty slippery grasp on whatever play we were examining. When Dr. Baxter called on me, I didn’t have any clever textual analysis to offer. I had only questions.
When I stammered out my question, however, I noticed that something strange happened. My tentative contribution made a difference. The direction and quality of the conversation changed. Others started asking questions rather than asserting opinions. The theatrical students started to focus more on the text and less on their in-class performance.
To borrow a phrase I recently learned from a client, the class began to engage in “generative discussion.” Individual grandstanding became genuine, collaborative inquiry. And it all started with a naïve question I was almost too embarrassed to voice.
Today, in any group discussion, I still like to hang back until most people have spoken before I enter the conversation. As an introvert, I like to think before I speak. It takes me time to process what others have said before I can participate in a meaningful way. And when I do speak up, the thought that finally comes out of my mouth is often a question.
Introverts take a lot of ribbing for this tendency to listen and to wonder, which can look to others like hesitancy. A cruel boss once introduced me to a group by saying, “Dawn is an introvert, so she’ll need about a week to think before she speaks.”
It turns out, however, that taking the time to listen and to frame a sincere question isn’t a fault—it’s the key to becoming a more successful communicator in any context.
In Supercommunicators: How to Unlock the Secret Language of Connection, Charles Duhigg reveals questioning as the mark of communication genius. Citing recent research studies, he shows how the ability to ask questions is the key to making conversations work. Approaching interactions with a spirit of inquiry helps us develop empathy, connect with others emotionally, build trust, defuse conflict, and foster “generative discussion.”
I think of my tendency to turn to questions as an introvert hack for surviving group discussions. When I lean into this strength, I’m able to relax and give my full attention to my conversation partners. I give myself permission to let my ideas percolate slowly, knowing that the purpose of the conversation is to allow ideas to evolve, and that my role is simply to show up with curiosity and compassion.
I’ve found that this hack makes a world of difference to my peace of mind. It makes an even bigger difference to everyday meetings, training sessions, panel discussions, and stakeholder engagement sessions. Every group needs a deep listener and a deep questioner, and when you play that role, you make discussions both more productive and more personally rewarding for everyone involved.
The good news is that the hack is available to you whether or not you’re an introvert, an extrovert, or (like many of us) a bit of both.
If you tend toward introversion, I encourage you to own questioning as one of your superpowers. Embrace it, and you may be surprised to see where it takes you and how it amplifies your influence.
If you tend toward extroversion, I challenge you to try sparking conversation by posing a question rather than stating an opinion. Indulge your curiosity by asking other people what they’re thinking and feeling. (In many situations, asking about feelings can take a conversation to a much deeper, more generative level than you might have thought possible.)
And let me know how it goes! I’d love to hear about what you learn by leaning into questioning, and I’d be happy to answer any questions you have about how to lead deep discussions that help translate knowledge into action.
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