What Reciprocity Returns
Reflections on Staying Alive in Our Work
A good friend of mine who is also a professional learning facilitator dropped me an email this week after she read Sunday’s post. She said that my references to mirror work were striking. She said it wasn’t the abstract idea of being willing to look at oneself that really intrigued her, but the practical question of how people who do what we do position themselves in ways that make those mirrors available to us.
On purpose.
She wondered: How do I do that on purpose?
That’s a good question, and it got me thinking about my Six Pillars of Ethical Facilitation. Like I’ve said, I appreciate a good framework, and that one is my own. It keeps me aligned to what I value. Your mileage may vary, but I think it offers a fine starting point, if you do what I do and you’re looking for one too.
One of those pillars is reciprocity. It asks two questions that are deceptively simple: What am I learning, and am I positioned as expert with rather than expert over others? Emphases: I and with and over. They matter.
Something else: The questions on the framework run the risk of becoming far too abstract if we don’t put them into practice, but when I do? I’m reminded that I’m there to learn about people from people. It’s all research—from discovery to the delivery of any findings we gather together. The first question on the frame changes what we do before a session begins, if we’re committed to moving this way. If we intend to learn with rather than over others, we have to surface what they know and we do not.
And who is they, anyway? It’s not just the people who hired us or those they assumed we were serving. It’s the people we’re tangentially responsible for. In my case, I’m reminded of the children who will be impacted by whatever I’m there to do.
Are they ever in the room? Do we even hear from them?
These are design problems worth solving.
The second question changes where we stand. Expert-with means the learning is mutual. It means you have come to the room with something to offer and something to receive. It means the people in front of you are positioned as co-authors of the work that the day will produce.
And here’s the thing about that: That kind of reciprocity often leaves facilitators like me with far more than we can ever give.
Here’s what I mean: We don’t talk much, in this field, about the importance of remaining learners ourselves. I’m not talking about staying current, but rather…hungry…curious.
Alive.
Practicing reciprocity is what makes that possible. When the engagement is designed so that I am learning too, then leading the work and being fed by the work are one and the same. Sure, the humility is real, but you know what? So is the sustenance.
I’ve noticed that when I hold those two questions in mind before walking into a room, those quick and careful questions that come at me land very differently. They arrive as the contribution they actually are, rather than as the obstacle they are so often mistaken for. They help me look in the mirror. They make me reflect. They find me starting conversations I hadn’t thought to begin, doing research I hadn’t planned for, and seeking thought-partners and critical friends I wouldn’t have called upon otherwise.
They find me alive in my work in a way I can’t manufacture by any other means.
What questions are keeping you alive in your work?
I truly want to know.


Great post today, Angela. The thing I keep coming back to, and I've probably mentioned this before, is an anecdote from a professor I read several years ago. He recalled the work a colleague was doing, and how he noted one year that she was no longer teaching her favorite book. When he questioned her as to why, she said, "I'm no longer curious about it. And when I am no longer curious about something, I don't teach it."
There's so much in that related to your ultimate question in today's post.
So that's my question..."what makes you curious?"
Enjoyed this a lot—earned yourself a new subscriber. If you’re open to it, I’d value a ‘subscribe’ in return.