Do you ever mumble to yourself when you’re alone?
Or have lively conversations with yourself in front of the mirror? Does everyone talk to themselves when no one is watching? Do you?
When we asked students this question a few years ago, Hailaria wrote: “I talk to myself a lot. Sometimes I do it when I don’t even realize it. Talking to yourself I think can be beneficial. For example, I practice conversation with myself, I even have arguments with myself. It helps me relieve stress.”
And Dan commented, “I talk to myself almost every day. I think that talking to myself helps me comprehend learning material better and also help me complete certain activities such as grocery shopping, cleaning, typing on a computer, and doing homework.”
But in the Times essay “The Power of Talking to Yourself,” the writer Paul McAdory cautions, “Like many normal behaviors, it’s also weird if the wrong person observes it, especially when you’re young.” He writes about his own experience with talking to himself, as a child and an adult:
Trembling in bed at night, my blankets pulled tight over my head save for an opening I left my face, I would whisper my troubles to my closest confidant: Wall. Wall was the wall nearest my childhood bed and, other than the occasional stray bang or muffled skittering, a nonverbal communicator. That didn’t stop me from hearing and heeding his counsel. Nor did his cheap facade — brownish faux-wood paneling littered with stickers — temper my belief in his tender depths. Wall was a boy like me, but calmer, cooler, more reflective. He listened to me, debated me, grasped the ends of sentences I didn’t finish. Off him I could bounce ideas as well as balls until sleep finally conquered fright.
I no longer speak to Wall or to any of his relations: Laces, Ceiling, cantankerous Floor. We seem to have forgotten how to communicate with one another. Besides, we hardly see each other anymore. Instead, I speak aloud to myself. At the museum where I work, I enumerate the day’s tasks and the tools they require: drill, star bit, mag tip, level. In the supermarket, I interrogate my mental shopping list and disparage myself for its illegibility: We need, um … noodles? Eggs? Do we? (Expletive.) I’ve become what I always was: my own Wall.
Psychologists call what I do “external self-talk” to differentiate it from regular self-talk, otherwise known as one’s internal monologue or dialogue. Plenty of people do it — just watch a tennis match if you don’t believe me. It’s viewed as normal within certain bounds, even beneficial, though speaker discretion is advised. Like many normal behaviors, it’s also weird if the wrong person observes it, especially when you’re young.
Students, read the entire essay, then tell us:
Do you ever talk to yourself? Is it something you do often, or just on rare occasions — like when you’re under stress?
Like Hailaria and Dan, do you find that talking to yourself can be beneficial? Why?
Mr. McAdory explains the difference between external self-talk and one’s internal monologue: “Psychologists call what I do ‘external self-talk’ to differentiate it from regular self-talk, otherwise known as one’s internal monologue or dialogue.” To what extent do you talk out loud to yourself as opposed to hold conversations with yourself in your head?
He also explains why talking to himself is different than talking with his friends: “I have found that vocalized self-analysis, and the willingness to trudge through intellectual and moral quandaries in noisy solitude, is a valuable complement to more traditional conversational outlets, especially when it comes to creative thinking.” Do you agree? Are there benefits you get from talking to yourself that you can’t get from conversations with other people?
After reading the essay, do you have a different perspective on “external self-talk”? Why, or why not?
When we asked students this question a few years ago, Hailaria wrote: “I talk to myself a lot. Sometimes I do it when I don’t even realize it. Talking to yourself I think can be beneficial. For example, I practice conversation with myself, I even have arguments with myself. It helps me relieve stress.”
And Dan commented, “I talk to myself almost every day. I think that talking to myself helps me comprehend learning material better and also help me complete certain activities such as grocery shopping, cleaning, typing on a computer, and doing homework.”
But in the Times essay “The Power of Talking to Yourself,” the writer Paul McAdory cautions, “Like many normal behaviors, it’s also weird if the wrong person observes it, especially when you’re young.” He writes about his own experience with talking to himself, as a child and an adult:
Trembling in bed at night, my blankets pulled tight over my head save for an opening I left my face, I would whisper my troubles to my closest confidant: Wall. Wall was the wall nearest my childhood bed and, other than the occasional stray bang or muffled skittering, a nonverbal communicator. That didn’t stop me from hearing and heeding his counsel. Nor did his cheap facade — brownish faux-wood paneling littered with stickers — temper my belief in his tender depths. Wall was a boy like me, but calmer, cooler, more reflective. He listened to me, debated me, grasped the ends of sentences I didn’t finish. Off him I could bounce ideas as well as balls until sleep finally conquered fright.
I no longer speak to Wall or to any of his relations: Laces, Ceiling, cantankerous Floor. We seem to have forgotten how to communicate with one another. Besides, we hardly see each other anymore. Instead, I speak aloud to myself. At the museum where I work, I enumerate the day’s tasks and the tools they require: drill, star bit, mag tip, level. In the supermarket, I interrogate my mental shopping list and disparage myself for its illegibility: We need, um … noodles? Eggs? Do we? (Expletive.) I’ve become what I always was: my own Wall.
Psychologists call what I do “external self-talk” to differentiate it from regular self-talk, otherwise known as one’s internal monologue or dialogue. Plenty of people do it — just watch a tennis match if you don’t believe me. It’s viewed as normal within certain bounds, even beneficial, though speaker discretion is advised. Like many normal behaviors, it’s also weird if the wrong person observes it, especially when you’re young.
Students, read the entire essay, then tell us:
Do you ever talk to yourself? Is it something you do often, or just on rare occasions — like when you’re under stress?
Like Hailaria and Dan, do you find that talking to yourself can be beneficial? Why?
Mr. McAdory explains the difference between external self-talk and one’s internal monologue: “Psychologists call what I do ‘external self-talk’ to differentiate it from regular self-talk, otherwise known as one’s internal monologue or dialogue.” To what extent do you talk out loud to yourself as opposed to hold conversations with yourself in your head?
He also explains why talking to himself is different than talking with his friends: “I have found that vocalized self-analysis, and the willingness to trudge through intellectual and moral quandaries in noisy solitude, is a valuable complement to more traditional conversational outlets, especially when it comes to creative thinking.” Do you agree? Are there benefits you get from talking to yourself that you can’t get from conversations with other people?
After reading the essay, do you have a different perspective on “external self-talk”? Why, or why not?
