When I joined Toastmasters, I approached the meeting roles the same way I approach most things.
I studied them.
Timer? Read the guidance.
Grammarian? Read the guidance.
Ah-Counter? Read the guidance.
Evaluator? Read even more guidance, because I was absolutely convinced I was not qualified to tell anyone how to improve.
Then I volunteered for the role, did my best, survived, and moved on to the next one.
For about six months, I thought the purpose of these roles was simply to make the meeting run smoothly.
Then, while preparing for an evaluation, I had a small epiphany.
Suddenly, everything made sense.
The Ah-Counter is not teaching you to count.
Thankfully. Most of us mastered counting by primary school.
It is teaching you to listen.

After serving as Ah-Counter a few times, you start hearing filler words everywhere.
At work.
On television.
In meetings.
Most alarmingly, in your own speeches.

The Grammarian is not teaching vocabulary.
It is teaching awareness of language.
You begin noticing how certain words engage, persuade and influence people.
You discover that words have personalities. Some arrive in a room wearing pyjamas.
Others arrive in a tailored suit.

The Timer is not teaching timekeeping.
It is teaching discipline.
Many of us begin a speech believing we need eight minutes to explain a simple idea.
The Timer gently introduces us to reality.
As it turns out, this is an exceptionally useful skill in both public speaking and corporate meetings.

The Evaluator is not teaching criticism.
It is teaching observation.
To give a useful evaluation, you must understand why a speech worked.
You begin seeing structure, storytelling and speaking techniques you previously missed.
Like an architect who suddenly notices the design of buildings rather than simply walking past them.

The Topicsmaster develops perhaps the most modern skill of all: thinking under pressure.
Because life rarely emails us the questions in advance.

Then there is the Toastmaster of the Evening, which sounds rather grand until you realise it involves coordinating speakers, keeping the meeting moving, handling surprises and maintaining energy.
In other words, project management with more applause.

What I eventually realised is that every role develops a different communication muscle.
And communication, unlike many things in life, improves through practice rather than theory.
Which explains why Toastmasters asks us to do things that occasionally make us uncomfortable.
The organisation appears to have adopted the radical idea that growth may exist just outside our comfort zone.
A controversial position, I know.
Six months later, I thought I had learned how to be a Timer, a Grammarian and an Evaluator.
In reality, I had spent six months learning how to listen more carefully, think more clearly and communicate more effectively.
Looking back, I think that was the point all along.
The roles may seem small when you first volunteer for them. They certainly did to me.
But somewhere between counting “ahs”, watching the clock and giving evaluations, something else happens.
You become a better communicator.
And perhaps that is one of Toastmasters’ cleverest lessons.
The role is never the lesson.
The communication skill behind it is.
After all, very few people leave Toastmasters and become professional Ah-Counters.
But plenty leave as better communicators.

Barbara Grant