The following exchange—taken from the 1987 film Raising Arizona—between prison inmate Hi (played by Nicolas Cage) and his parole board ranks high on my list of memorable dialogues:

Parole board chairman: They’ve got a name for people like you, Hi. That name is called “recidivism.” Repeat offender! Not a pretty name, is it, Hi?

Hi: No, sir. That’s one bonehead name, but that ain’t me anymore.

Parole board chairman: You’re not just telling us what we want to hear?

Hi: No, sir, no way.

Parole board member: ‘Cause we just want to hear the truth.

Hi: Well, then I guess I am telling you what you want to hear.

Parole board chairman: Boy, didn’t we just tell you not to do that?

Hi: Yes, sir.

Parole board chairman: Okay, then.

Like so much in life, this scene is funny because it reflects something true about human nature. The parole board is dubious of Hi’s claims to reform. They don’t see him as someone capable of making anything other than “bonehead” choices. Our perceptions of others, especially people we consider challenging or complex, inform our expectations of their behavior and abilities. You have probably read studies in which school administrators tell teachers their classes comprise either high- or low-achieving students. The teachers believe this assessment and set expectations commensurate with their perception of student capabilities. Though the classes are actually homogenous, as far as previous performance is concerned, the “high-achieving” students outperform the “low achievers.”

We are all prone to categorizing others. This person is stingy. That person is particular. In many respects we can’t help this, nor is there anything wrong with forming perceptions. How can we not? We can enhance the health of our personal and professional relationships by making these perceptions pliable. Doing so extends to others an opportunity to teach us. When we become students of others we allow them to clarify our perceptions. Our relationships are then more authentic because they are rooted in a more accurate understanding of the other.

I find the following thought experiment to be rewarding, especially in reference to my closest friends and family. Fresh aspects of their character and personality broaden and correct my previous perceptions. They are more real to me. I can relate with them in a way that is more authentic and enlivening. I encourage you to think of one person in your life whom you experience as particularly tricky and enigmatic, then:

1. Imagine this person looking you in the eye and saying, “How do you see me?”

2. Formulate an honest response. Go ahead and generalize like crazy. Wrap this person up in a box and assume for a moment this is accurate. Give your brain permission to think you’ve got this person figured out. What you are doing is creating an accurate assessment of your existing perception of this person.

3. Now brainstorm some alternate perceptions. Over-generalized perceptions don’t have room for exceptions. So hunt for them. To do this you have to swivel around the person to gain unique vantage points. In what settings might this person do something that would broaden your existing perception? Picture this person at home, in a car, in a garden, with a pet, on a plane. How might seeing them in these various settings help fill out your perceptions?

4. In the next week note the exceptions to your previous perceptions. You will have to look hard and not be derailed by the experiences that reinforce your original over-generalized perception. Fighting this tendency is your task. This can only enhance how you relate to, and enjoy, this individual.

Look for and expect others to surprise you. Extend to others the invitation to teach you truths about their character and personality. Grant them the freedom to not only correct existing perceptions, but also add new dimensions to your understanding.

During my junior year in college I took a course in Evolutionary Biology. We all feared the professor. He was, as every student well knew, not one to mess with. During one of his lectures he suddenly threw down his chalk, slammed his hands on the lectern and began to yell at our class, saying he was through with all of the challenging questions he received. I remember being stunned and confused. I had no idea what he was talking about. He stormed out of the class. We all sat for a moment, stunned, as though he had just spoken in tongues. The next day the professor walked into class, slapped a stack of midterm exams on the table and announced, “I am not available for questions.” I’m pretty sure this violated some sort of university ethical code, but none of us were about to cite scripture and verse. The day after the exam the university dean came in to “get to the bottom of all of this.” Without exception, we all said we had no idea what so enraged the professor. He left the college shortly after.

I’ve reflected on this scene many times since. The students in our class sought to understand key concepts. I recall one of my classmates asking, “Can you explain again how through evolution the jaw bone migrated to become an ear bone?” I remember this question because I think it may have been the match to the tinder that sent our professor into his rage. But the student’s question was sincere. Like the rest of us, he was trying to see through the professor’s lenses, and learn. Tragically, our youthful attempts to grasp the concepts our professor espoused only served to incite his wrath, and estrange him from the students he was supposed to enlighten.

My professor’s refusal to empathetically engage his students was to his loss, and ours. When we sincerely invite another to take us on a tour of his or her own perspective we create an opportunity—a safe space—for us both to listen, grow and change. And in the course of exploring our perspectives, something profound happens. Those beliefs and assumptions we’ve held tacitly emerge from obscurity, and sharpen into focus—then we can examine them anew, and broaden our own understanding.