When attending meetings at American companies, you often notice that the way presentations begin is quite different. Instead of jumping straight into numbers or goals, they often start with, "Last week, this happened..." I've seen how that small story can completely lighten the mood in a tense meeting room.

In a Korean context, it seems like one should get straight to the point, but here, people tend to start with a side story. At first, I thought it was just because they were good at speaking.

The same goes for school parent meetings or neighborhood community gatherings. There's always someone who opens the discussion not by reading the agenda but by sharing a small anecdote about something their child experienced last week or a minor event in the neighborhood.

However, upon closer examination, this seems less like a natural talent and more like a habit developed through training from a very young age.

In American kindergartens or early elementary school classrooms, there is a time called Show and Tell. Children bring a favorite item from home and briefly explain why it is special in front of their classmates.

While it's unclear exactly when this activity first started, it has deep roots, having been introduced in the 1954 educational journal Childhood Education.

This means that American children learn to communicate through stories rather than just listing facts from the time they start learning to speak.

As they progress through school, this trend doesn't change much. Book reports are not just summaries; they are often tied to personal experiences, and even history lessons are frequently taught through character-driven narratives rather than just memorizing dates.

This training doesn't disappear when they become adults. In job interviews, the common question about a situation they faced and how they resolved it essentially asks the candidate to create a short story.

The same applies within companies. Whether it's a new product launch or a quarterly performance report, it's much more common to hear a personal story before any data is presented.

This culture of learning how to speak like an ordinary person has been established outside of schools for a long time. In 1924, Ralph Smedley started a public speaking practice group in the basement of the YMCA in Santa Ana, California, which eventually became Toastmasters.

This group, where ordinary employees take turns sharing short stories and giving each other honest feedback, has now spread worldwide. It's remarkable that even a hundred years ago, the ability to speak was considered important enough to warrant dedicated learning.

One might wonder why there is such an obsession with storytelling, but the reason is surprisingly simple. Research has shown multiple times that people remember stories much longer than numbers or lists.

Stories with a touch of emotion naturally draw listeners into the situation, building trust and ensuring that the message sticks much longer. In essence, stories serve as handles that keep information attached rather than just wrapping it up.

Personally, I really appreciate this approach. Listening to someone's real experiences captures my attention far more than dry data, and it allows me to understand what that person felt during their experience.

As a parent, I feel even more strongly about this. If children practice sharing their stories comfortably in front of others from a young age, they may grow up to be individuals who can express their thoughts without fear.

Perhaps that's why I feel warm every time I watch the Show and Tell sessions at my child's school. The scene of the small classroom, where even clumsy words are listened to and applauded, might just be the most honest starting point of this country's presentation culture.

While the term "presentation culture" may sound grand, it actually stems from the simple habit of showing off a favorite toy in front of friends since childhood, a practice that has continued for over a hundred years.

It seems that Americans have known for a long time that a small story can be more powerful than thick data.