Doesn’t it drive you crazy when someone starts a sentence with “obviously…” and then tells you something that wasn’t obvious to you at all? It makes you feel like an idiot, right?

I’m super guilty of this.

And I’m betting either you are too, or you’ve already thought of someone who is.

It’s actually an extension of the Dunning-Kruger effect, which states that you have to know a lot about something to realize how much you don’t know about it. In other words, you have to be pretty smart to know how dumb you are.

You don’t know what you don’t know, but the more you know, the more you realize how much there is to know that you don’t yet know.

I’m exhausted. 

Here’s how this plays out in the real world:

People who are under-educated about a particular topic overestimate their knowledge about it, displaying high levels of confidence with low levels of accuracy.

On the flip side, people who are highly educated about a topic underestimate their own intelligence, rating themselves average or below average, because they assume it must be just as easy for everyone else as it is for them.

It’s easy to be a piano teacher…

You only need be one lesson ahead of the student.

We can all provide value to those who are now where we recently were, by simply conveying what we learned about the situation they are currently in. 

A local mentorship program I work with in Connecticut capitalizes on this by pairing 8th graders with 10th graders to help prepare them for entering high school next year. Are the 10th graders experts on pre-teen mental health or educational leadership? 

Of course not. 

But it’s also not necessary, or even ideal. Middle schoolers are much more likely to connect with students just two years older than them who recently went through a similar experience.

We are more likely to learn when we connect with the teacher than when we are confronted by expertise.

So, it’s easy to be a piano teacher. But it’s hard to be a world class pianist.

Being just one lesson ahead of the student has its limitations. You aren’t going to be able to provide satisfactory answers to deep or insightful questions from your most inquisitive students. 

Lack of expertise is one of the primary causes of fear of public speaking. Nervous speakers often find their confidence improves as their knowledge deepens, because they are no longer afraid of being asked a question they won’t be able to answer.

Walking the tightrope

Should we be content with just being one or two lessons ahead and focus instead on connecting with the audience? Or should we study until we’re swimming in knowledge so we aren’t phased by difficult questions?

Both, and neither.

I’ve found the key is in knowing just enough to handle interesting questions or objections (bearing in mind that “I don’t know” is almost always the right answer), but also recognizing that what’s obvious to you, even if you’re not a world class expert, is rarely obvious to the people you’re trying to help.

Following a keynote I delivered a few months ago at a conference for accountants, a gentleman approached, shook my hand, and said.

“You know, I’ve been in this field for 20 years. When you talked about seeing things from the point-of-view of my clients in order to connect and serve them better, I thought to myself, wow, that’s so obvious, but it never occurred to me. Thank you so much.”

And I thought, you’re in charge of their money, but it never occured to you to consider their perspective?

That seems crazy to me. But mostly because I’ve made it my life’s work to teach and train others on perspective-taking and connection. And because I spend all day every day, thinking, reading, researching, and speaking about it, I often worry my presentations aren’t interesting enough.

Every so often I need someone like that accountant to remind me that what I’m writing and speaking about is in fact novel and insightful to them.

Lean into your uniqueness

The vast majority of people you’ll meet and interact with do not share your expertise. Maybe you pack boxes for a living, or you’re a receptionist, or a barista, or an amateur coin collector.

Next time you’re nervous to talk about your job, hobby, or passion, ask yourself: 

What about it would interest and excite someone who has minimal to no experience with it? All the stuff you do naturally is likely fascinating to the rest of us. 

You don’t have to be an expert to be interesting or helpful. You just have to be empathic and generous.