Bedtime stories in the nightmare house of our mind

Grenny, et al. (2023) give examples of how we tell ourselves stories, sometimes blindingly fast, that can lead to flare-ups and destructive conflict. For instance, I work hard to create a course that gives students numerous paths to success, with self-actualizing options that can earn them extra credit. I not only quickly provide required accommodations for students with disabilities as the Disability Resource Center on my campus sends me notices about individual students, I informally create additional accommodations for students who are studying under circumstances I regard as special and worthy of greater leeway. I ask for notice in week one introductions to let me know if English is not their first language. If so, I set the online quizzes to allow them extra time. When I find out a student is a single parent, working, and studying full time, I am quick to grant extensions for assignments that are due. All this is extra work for me that I happily do to help students I regard as climbing the mountain of higher education while also carrying extra burdens. 

Imagine my internal storytelling when a new student begins by posting snarky comments about the required assignments, then contacts me privately to instruct me on exactly how they expect me to accommodate them, with some snappish or snarky element in every email. Finally, they accuse me of ableism.

In the wild I would likely react with some expression indicative of how angry I felt. As a professional faculty member, I don't. But my inner story has me quite defensive, with an interpretation of the student's character and motives. That story began with the first dismissive post and was underscored with each communication. 

As a professional who has begun to learn about trauma-informed care, however, I can change the stories I tell myself. I can recall times past when I was in pain and lashed out, and can allow for that possibility for the student who is dysfunctionally and unfairly confrontive. I can hold back from coming to any conclusion until more context is available.

What Grenny, et al. say about this is that we can deëscalate ourselves fairly quickly when we look to the conclusions we reach really quickly and question the possibility of other stories that might plausibly lead to different interpretations. We can then choose to seek more context or, if we feel the other is too intent on off-loading their pain by inflicting it on others, we can step away, or, as William Ury tells us, Go to the balcony--stand aside and observe our own role and those of others in a time of reflection. These steps can help us avoid what Kwame Christian notes is the amygdala hijack--the sudden takeover of our minds by the most primitive part of our brain, that which evolved to spring us into fight, flight, abject surrender, or posing as scary in the face of existential threat.

References

Christian, Kwame (2018). Finding confidence in conflict. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F6Zg65eK9XU&t=325s

Grenny, Joseph; Patterson, Kerry; McMillan, Ron; Switzler, Al; Gregory, Emily (2023). Crucial conversations: Tools for talking when stakes are high. 3rd ed. VitalSmarts.

Ury, William (2014). Go to the balcony. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TXFoCzjdozQ