Outside the restaurant with my awesome group members: Me, Mavé, Mari, and David.
When I attended the Design Thinking workshop earlier this month, we learned about the process by first going through it ourselves. One of our tasks was to attend a local restaurant, not only to eat lunch, but to practice our information-gathering skills and use the data we collected to propose improvements to the restaurant. So I walked through downtown San Antonio with my assigned small group, making our way through the rain to our appointed destination.
Once we arrived at our restaurant, we made quick observations and immediately began listing faults: It was dark and noisy. The menu was hard to read. The food was too fatty and the portions too large. The decor was sparse and uninviting. For each observation we made, there was also the implied "fix." Better lighting and acoustics. A redesigned menu and interior. Within five minutes of being in the space, we generated a sizable list of problems and proposed solutions. None of them were particularly inspiring, but we were confident they would be effective.
We were encouraged to use interviews as a way to collect information, as well. To be honest, we were so sure we had been productive just by making observations that we didn't leave much time for interviews. With only a few minutes before we had to leave, I connected with a manager, Chris. He good-naturedly answered the questions my group had written prior to our arrival. What was his favorite dish served at the restaurant? What would he never want to change about the environment? What were his day-to-day challenges? Just as I was about to wrap up our quick exchange, he offered an unexpected history of the restaurant. It had been open a very short period of time in another location when a devastating fire gutted the building. Nothing remained, and the family who owned the business felt anxious and hopeless. A competing restaurant just across the street was owned by a man close to retirement. With the end of his lease approaching, he offered the space to Chris and his family. He would pay the lease for the few remaining months while they rebuilt, and they could share the profits from their larger, combined pool of customers until they were ready to be fully independent again. Chris showed me photos on his phone - of the terrible fire, the relocation, selfies with their customers.
I was deeply moved by this story, which I hadn't even thought to ask about. Having this context, I saw the restaurant with new eyes. Yes, it was noisy - because of the lively conversation happening between regulars who ate lunch there every day. The food was fatty - because they used recipes for comfort food passed down for generations within a family. The decor was bare - because the owners were still rebuilding their collection of meaningful artwork. Suddenly, I didn't want to change anything about this restaurant. I wanted to celebrate it. Our Design Thinking project took on a totally new, positive direction.
I keep thinking about this experience and what it taught me about empathy. How it changes the way we see one another and the world. All of us have a story that, once shared, has the potential to connect us more deeply to one another. That connection we feel is a powerful force. What might occur if we have the courage to make ourselves truly available to others? What might we be able to accomplish if we dare to find the humanity in someone we dislike? How could we better care for one another and our communities by simply asking to hear another's story?
As I prepare to begin a new school year, I am setting the goal to learn the stories of my students and their families. It's easy to make those quick, superficial observations in the classroom, too. A challenging behavior must need this quick fix; or I could address this learning concern with a simple xyz. I challenge myself: Seek the story. And listen.
Once we arrived at our restaurant, we made quick observations and immediately began listing faults: It was dark and noisy. The menu was hard to read. The food was too fatty and the portions too large. The decor was sparse and uninviting. For each observation we made, there was also the implied "fix." Better lighting and acoustics. A redesigned menu and interior. Within five minutes of being in the space, we generated a sizable list of problems and proposed solutions. None of them were particularly inspiring, but we were confident they would be effective.
We were encouraged to use interviews as a way to collect information, as well. To be honest, we were so sure we had been productive just by making observations that we didn't leave much time for interviews. With only a few minutes before we had to leave, I connected with a manager, Chris. He good-naturedly answered the questions my group had written prior to our arrival. What was his favorite dish served at the restaurant? What would he never want to change about the environment? What were his day-to-day challenges? Just as I was about to wrap up our quick exchange, he offered an unexpected history of the restaurant. It had been open a very short period of time in another location when a devastating fire gutted the building. Nothing remained, and the family who owned the business felt anxious and hopeless. A competing restaurant just across the street was owned by a man close to retirement. With the end of his lease approaching, he offered the space to Chris and his family. He would pay the lease for the few remaining months while they rebuilt, and they could share the profits from their larger, combined pool of customers until they were ready to be fully independent again. Chris showed me photos on his phone - of the terrible fire, the relocation, selfies with their customers.
I was deeply moved by this story, which I hadn't even thought to ask about. Having this context, I saw the restaurant with new eyes. Yes, it was noisy - because of the lively conversation happening between regulars who ate lunch there every day. The food was fatty - because they used recipes for comfort food passed down for generations within a family. The decor was bare - because the owners were still rebuilding their collection of meaningful artwork. Suddenly, I didn't want to change anything about this restaurant. I wanted to celebrate it. Our Design Thinking project took on a totally new, positive direction.
I keep thinking about this experience and what it taught me about empathy. How it changes the way we see one another and the world. All of us have a story that, once shared, has the potential to connect us more deeply to one another. That connection we feel is a powerful force. What might occur if we have the courage to make ourselves truly available to others? What might we be able to accomplish if we dare to find the humanity in someone we dislike? How could we better care for one another and our communities by simply asking to hear another's story?
As I prepare to begin a new school year, I am setting the goal to learn the stories of my students and their families. It's easy to make those quick, superficial observations in the classroom, too. A challenging behavior must need this quick fix; or I could address this learning concern with a simple xyz. I challenge myself: Seek the story. And listen.
