Our theme for the month of March is “light.”

Nearly every time I am at the dentist office or I am getting my haircut, I have the same thought: Man, these people have to make so much small talk.

I am no stranger to light conversation. Every day I open up my virtual classroom, and unlike a physical space where students would naturally chatter, it’s on me to create conversation. I have a “share” question each day to thwart these awkward minutes of me just staring at my computer screen, making stilted conversation with the one student who will type in the chat, but there are still some days that go better than others. (My favorite question remains “If you were a hermit at the top of a mountain, what gift would you give to people who made it up to you?”)

People give small talk a lot of grief, and justly so, but I am seeing again how convenient of an emotional shield it can be.

I remembered this again when I stood awkwardly off to the side, trying to figure out how I was going to cut in on the intense conversation that my prayer partner was having with another church member. It was my turn that week to be a prayer servant, and I was unsurprised to find this member up here, considering her parent had passed away in the last week.

I should have had the words. Instead, I waited until my prayer partner yanked me into the conversation and asked me to open us in prayer. I laid my hands and said something about God having room for all the angry feelings—the only honest thing I could draw from my past. When we were done, I offered to grab her a cookie from downstairs, a treat without getting trapped into conversation. She shook her head and slipped out the side door, and later I drove home in the rare Michigan sunshine and wondered what I could have said, what more I could have offered. 

Maybe this is neurotypical of me, but I find the option of small talk a comfort rather than an annoyance. (For those of you who disagree with me, I’ll direct you to Emily’s great post about breaking through small talk with hypothetical questions.) I enjoy being able to walk up to someone and ask how their week/month/year was and to fall into an easy chat. I’m disarmed when life is too raw and too real to be met with “Wow, can you believe how warm it is out there?”

Sometimes, I don’t want to contemplate the heaviness of life or politics or current events. I just want to do the conversational equivalent of tipping my hat to you, showing I see you and I am glad you are here and I am glad we are here together, and move on with my day. I don’t want to be deeply emotionally available to every person I happen upon. 

Sure, it’s awkward a lot of the time, but light conversation is an effective tool in a world that craves so much of our attention, our emotions, our thoughts. There are times where it is harmful, and we must cut through the niceties to name the ugly patterns that we are perpetuating, to have the uncomfortable conversation, to say the things that are intentionally being kept silent. But for the other times? I will point out how nice the sunshine is, and you’ll turn your face towards it, and we’ll both smile and share the simple joy of its warmth.

Alex Johnson

Alex Johnson (‘19) is a high school English teacher in Massachusetts. She spends her days being an uncool adult who enjoys reading romance novels and explaining niche rhythm game strategies.