Humor is in the eye of the beholder. I've learned this over the years.
I used to never think about it. I am, after all, quite the serious person. I've accepted this, for the most part. Someone has to be, after all. It might as well be me because I have perfected it.
Another thing I am relatively good at is training/teaching. I have been doing it, in one way or another, for decades. I've done it on a volunteer basis, leading women's Bible study groups and teaching the kids in Sunday school. I even had the blessing of homeschooling my kids for many years.
I've been an English as a second language tutor. I've been a reading tutor and a substitute teacher for Denver Public Schools.
I've been a hospitality trainer, working for Frontier Airlines and Oracle. For the past eight amazing years, I have been training Epic which is used in the majority of healthcare systems across the United States and beyond.
When I try to train in my own strength, I may get the job done, but not the way I desire. When it works the best, I allow God to move through me and the results are far greater, far better, far different. I leave it all on the proverbial field, so to speak. And it is glorious.
Sometimes a trainer is only as great as her audience, however. There are days I show up and I have a really tough crowd. They are angry, don't want to be there and I can tell from their faces certain things just won't play well. I get my energy, for better or for worse, from them. And I can usually get a feel for how it's going to go in the first few minutes. Not that it can't be redeemed or turned around, but my students play a large role in how it will all play out. Period.
I love to sing in my classes. I have been doing this for years, going way back to my reading tutor days. I can still see the faces of my first graders as I sang "You ain't nothing but a hound dog..." when going over flash cards for the letter H. They loved it and I ate up their anticipatory smiles and laughter, each and every day. Some of them even sang along. That's when I discovered that even a serious girl can have fun and can make the audience laugh. I thrived on that realization.
On a personal level, the laughs have been a bit harder to come by.
As I like to tell most of my students, my family doesn't think I'm funny. Even at this, they laugh. And I love it. A few weeks back one of my students replied, "None of our families think we're funny." I think she was just trying to make me feel good. It worked, kind of.
Yesterday was a fantastic training day. I woke at 5 on a Saturday morning, not wanting to get out of bed. I prayed, like I usually do, for God's energy and strength to move through me. I had 21 students. As they filed in, they yawned, looking like they had better places to be. Like bed. I get it; I try to be empathetic to the best of my ability. Most days I do fairly well, I think.
I usually start my classes out with a feel-good speech, telling my end-users they are allowed to feel whatever they want to feel in my class. I think this is a shock to most of them. I have been doing this for years. Why? Because I detest being told how to feel. If someone is feeling something, what good does it do to tell them NOT to feel that way? It is the most insensitive, counter-productive thing I have ever experienced. Most of my end-users are anxious, angry, and/or overwhelmed, and the older ones are contemplating retirement over learning a new software system. I get that. I learned Epic while I was in my 50s. Learning something new later in years can be more challenging and some of my students do not feel up to the task.
After I have read my crowd (as trainers we are quite good at this), I settle in and start singing songs that go along with the lesson. Sometimes it's Taylor Swift's "22," with an occasional "Going to the Chapel." Trust me, these songs are perfect for some of the lessons I train.
But yesterday? Yesterday was so special that I threw in, "Single Ladies" by Beyonce. The crowd roared. Especially the student who said he was obsessed with her and stated, a few minutes into class, that he "loved me." I honed in on his energy because it was uplifting and positive and consistent for the entire class. He obviously recognized great talent when he saw it.
I've been praying for a very long time that God would give me a full-time or remote job in Colorado so I can serve at my church, continue to develop my family and friendship relationships. And simply have a consistent life that I have not enjoyed in over 12 years. I know it will happen eventually, but oftentimes I wonder why it is taking so long. All of the things I desire at home are good things. Why the wait?
Maybe it's because, to a degree, I feel freer on the road than I do at home. There is not the same baggage of familiarity. I have to rely on myself. I have more confidence. There is none of the junk that comes with people knowing you so well that they know all of your crap. I feel like I can be me, without people knowing exactly what that entails.
Don't get me wrong. As a trainer, you have to be "on" all the time. In my younger years, this got me into trouble because I have always been more honest than the average person. And I wear my heart and emotions on my sleeve. It's exhausting having to give your all: everything physically, emotionally and mentally, for people who would rather be anywhere but in a classroom with you. They have their baggage, too, and they often bring it in, open it up and leave it lying bare on the floor for you to navigate around. It can be exhausting and, on the bad days, so not worth it.
Getting back to yesterday...every song I sang received laughter. Some even sang along with me. Every joke was understood. Everyone had fun. And in the process, people learned. Lest you think I am training a bunch of 50-something white women, think again. I am mostly training people much younger than me and the majority are not white.
I heard a few say that other trainers had been so serious and seemed like they couldn't wait to go as soon as they started class. In the end, I was thanked and told that my humor was appreciated. This class had been the best they had so far, I was told. I hear this a lot.
I'll take it. I'm no different than anyone else. We all want to be appreciated and loved. We all want our jokes to be laughed at. Not because people feel sorry for us or think we are a charity case. Not because they simply think we are goofy or extra or weird. We want real relationships with people, connection, authenticity.
I've learned a lot about myself over the past 12 plus years of being a travel trainer. I am resilient. I am a good trainer. I have more strength and confidence than I realize.
And I am funny. Legitimately.