Max, Emma, Patty and I regularly listen to audiobooks in the car.  There are amazing EQ lessons in these stories, and I find that listening to them creates a strong emotional connection — plus it’s a great way to keep the peace on long drives!

On the plane yesterday, listened to the end of Pam Munoz Ryan’s book, Esperanza Rising, a lovely story of a family and a young woman learning, “never be afraid to start over.”  Esperanza is a privileged child growing up in a wealthy family on El Rancho de las Rosas in Mexico.  Her father is killed, and for a variety of reasons she and her mother escape to the Central Valley in California where they live in a farmworker’s camp during the Depression.  Amidst threats of strikes, illness, loss, fear, and scarcity, Esperanza’s hands harden, but her heart softens.  She learns empathy and her optimism is fueled by connectedness to family, the land, and community.

As the story ended, I was sobbing, touched by the hope and strength in these women, their courage, compassion, and openness to life.  It’s a beautifully woven tale, a dark and serious time in our history entwined with shining threads of love and resilience.

The narrator, Trini Alvarado, did a beautiful job — I’m sure the book is lovely in print as well — but I highly recommend listening to it.

For teachers, Esperanza Rising would be ideal for discussions of the emotional intelligence competencies of Exercise Optimism and Increase Empathy, as well as for themes of migration, power, and, of course for California history.  The fact that the story is based on the author’s grandmother’s real life makes it even richer.

Based on Emma & Max’s reactions, I’d say this is great from ages about 7 and up.

A few months ago Patty had routine physical, and her doctor ordered some tests, which came back positive so she needed a biopsy. While statistically odds were strong that it would be a nonissue, we were both a bit anxious – especially because of her cancer scare a few years ago.

We carefully didn’t say anything to the kids because we didn’t want to worry them.  But on the day Patty went for the biopsy, Max asked me in a quiet, serious voice:  “Does Mama need surgery again?”  (He was about 4 when she had surgery before.)

I was stuck by his ability to observe and “read between the lines.”  And, by the way this cancer fear stayed with him.

I suspect that in general kids see far more than we want them to.  From an evolutionary perspective it makes sense – there’s survival value in being able to read subtle cues.  Left to themselves kids will take those cues and make their own meaning, sometimes accurate, often exaggerated… but it’s important to remember that fear creeps in the absence of information.

What else are they seeing?  And what meaning are they making?

PS.  Patty’s biopsy was totally negative – which was a relief!  This was days before we were leaving for Borneo and South East Asia for six weeks, so it was fabulous to get this resolved before we went!

[First published Nov 11, 2003]

Lately life has been somewhat tempestuous at home.  Emma’s 4-1/2-year-old priorities conflict with Max’s 2-1/2-year-old priorities — add two work-a-holic parents and their own stresses, and voila, you have a powder keg. Recently it got to the point I was looking forward to travelling so I could have a few days of peace.  I take that as a bad sign.

The last few days gave me new insight into my job as a parent — and equally essential lessons as a consultant and manager.  Most managers tell me their biggest struggles are managing conflicts and relationships — so perhaps this story about managing the conflicts at home will provide ideas even to those without kids.

Last week I had time with Karen McCown, Six Seconds’ Chairman and Founder.  We talk frequently about my little family and about her grandchildren.  As many EQ Reflections readers have told me, grandparent-hood sounds like the best of parenting: all the love, none of the “hot buttons.”

The next day I happened to talk to a colleague and the psychotherapist sitting next to her.  I talked a bit about my struggles at home, and I was struck by the dramatic difference between the therapist’s approach and Karen’s.

The therapist said, “It sounds like you are letting you kids run things in your house, and you can’t do that.”

Somewhat testy, I said, “Actually, I can do it — but I agree it might not be a good idea.”

“You need to be clear about who’s in charge,” she went on, ignoring my frail jibe, “and consistently reward the appropriate behavior and have consequences for the inappropriate behavior.  You have to be more consistent.”

Not bad advice for a cocktail party.  Then I considered Karen’s advice from the evening before and how different it was.

First Karen asked me what is happening — what’s the pattern.  I explained that a conflict escalated, Emma’s behavior got explosive, and I sent her to time out or her room.

“Is that working?” asked Karen.

“Not really.”

“So you probably don’t want to keep doing it, do you?”  Under Karen’s clear gaze, there was only one available answer.  I shook my head.  “Do you and Emma talk about what happened?”

“Emma would rather not,” I say starting to feel a bit pathetic — how did I give a four-year-old so much power?

After a few more minutes, Karen summarized our discussion into this experiment:  “Why don’t you try this:  Next time you send Emma to her room, say, ‘When you are ready to talk about what happened, come get me.’  Then, discuss what happened and make an agreement about what Emma and you will do differently next time.  Write it down where Emma can see it.”

Before I tell you what happened, what’s the difference between Karen’s advice and the unknown therapist’s?  Notice who had the power or “right” in the adult-to-adult conversations.  Notice how each approach changes the power dynamic between Emma and me — one actually escalates the power struggle, the other side-steps it.

My sense is that Karen’s advice also focuses on the long term vs. short term — Emma needs to make decisions for herself, and eventually these will be fairly serious decisions.  What am I doing now to equip her for that challenge?

This weekend when one of the “inevitable” conflicts occurred, I had a surprising experience.  While I was caught up in the conflict, I did not feel the need to explode — I didn’t feel hopeless.  This is the power of having a new strategy.

I asked Emma if she wanted to talk about what happened, when she grouched, “NO,” I followed Karen’s advice.  A few minutes later, Emma was ready to talk.  I began my Self-Science process and asked, “What happened?”

I discovered that looking at the whole event was too complex, that Emma really had trouble telling the story.  So I began telling what I thought happened, and after each little piece, I asked if she agreed — really asked, not to get agreement but to get her view.  We agreed on some parts, not others, and didn’t debate it — we both identified the story from our sides.

Then I identified the part that was upsetting for me:  “I felt ignored when I told you to stop grabbing your brother for the second time and it did not seem like you listened.  Were you listening?”

“No,” said Emma, and I could see the realization sink in.

We put up a chart paper in her room and I asked what I should write.  Emma said, “No Ignoring.”

I was surprised again when the next day there was a minor tussle between Emma and Max.  When I asked what happened, Emma told me, and said we need to go write on the list.

I suspect that a large part of my own reactivity with the kids comes from feeling so powerless — from feeling like this won’t end, and I can’t stop it.  So the lesson for me as a parent:

• keep practicing optimism (it WON’T last forever and I CAN make a difference if I try).
• keep experimenting with new ways of communicating.
• to stay out of the power struggle — make my job be “help them learn” rather than “enforce.”

Reflecting on the two different styles of giving me advice, I see three key points to remember an “expert,” consultant, and manager supporting others.

Ask, help them see the story, the pattern.

Challenge the “insane” (doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results)

Offer questions, alternatives, and experiments rather than answers.

I need to remember I don’t have the answers to my own challenges, let alone yours!  Perhaps the best we can offer one another is a compassionate ear and the encouragement to keep learning.  It’s probably harder to sell than “the answer,” but I suspect there’s a lot more value in it.

Warmly yours,

- Josh

Great experience w my kids discovering a way to make a difference – and how that connection to purpose created emotional transformation.  Wrote it up on family travel blog…

http://redsuitcase.wordpress.com/2009/10/30/j-orangutan-heart/

August 2009 Screaming toddlers and moody teenagers have something in common — they are both emotionally charged. Louisa Wilkins speaks to the experts about how to handle your children in an emotionally intelligent way to ensure positive results.

The summer sun was beating down on the small patch of cement, heating up the already heated stand off between me and my three-year-old. She wanted to stay and play. I wanted to get in the car and go home. She looks at me defiantly as she grabs the pink, tassled handlebars of the three-wheeler trike in her nursery playground. “No,” I say reaching for the gate. “We are going home. I have to go home now because it’s nearly dinner time. Are you coming with me?” She darts to the gate, holding it closed, screaming the sky down as if I have just robbed her of her last chance to play, ever. Does she not realise its brain-boiling hot? Does she not realise it’s dinner time? Does she not realise that I just said, “No”? From experience I see the next 30 minutes mapped out in front of me — 15 minutes of torrential crying all the way home, followed by 15 minutes of red-faced, wounded sulk. Great.

This is the hard part of parenting. The bit you can’t find in any baby manual or parenting guide. The part that your parents seem to master instinctively in their role as grandparents. It’s the part you agonise over and repeatedly reflect on at the end of the day. It’s the easiest to get wrong and probably most important to get right – it’s the emotional part. Unfortunately, one of the major downsides to being an expatriate parent is that our parental role models and their trustworthy guidance are often entire continents away. Joshua Freedman is a parent, a teacher and one of the founders of Six Seconds, one of the world’s most renowned emotional intelligence organisations, which offers knowledge on how to recognise and understand emotions, and how to use them fluently. He says, “In Dubai, people are often far from their social networks who understand how difficult and absorbing it is being a parent. Away from close family and friends, parents need support and advice on how to deal with tough parenting situations,
which are usually hinged on emotions.”

Before you start fretting about your emotional incapacity as a parent, or chastising yourself for the way you dealt with the “I don’t want breakfast” drama this morning, the good news is that, according to Freedman,
emotional intelligence (EQ) is just like any other skill, in that it is learnable. “EQ can be taught,” says Freedman. “Some elements of personality are fixed, but I am 100 per cent convinced that we each have choices about how we think, feel, and act.”

Download the rest of the article

Out of curiosity I started a poll on LinkedIn, the business networking platform.

What do you most want for your kids?
* Their financial success
* Their happiness
* That they contribute
* That they are kind

Click here to take the poll before you look below….

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(that space was the “pause” while you went to take the poll… and if you did you saw more current results, but here you go)

Of course as a parent I want ALL of these and more – but in the poll you only get one!  I offered 4 responses, two which are more “selfish” and two which are more “altruistic” — you can see the results.

Of course this is a SMALL and nonscientific poll, but what is the implication for our future?

When I shared this thought, Caleb looked at me, raised one blond eyebrow, and said, “Mom, you have got to be kidding!” I was really stumped. I couldn’t imagine what he was going to identify. I knew it wouldn’t be this year’s presents; they were all practical and geared to his senior year at the University of Oregon and included clothes, art supplies, books, etc.

Caleb continued, “You know, Mom, it is interesting that you would bring this up. I’ve been thinking about this subject myself. Give me a minute to collect my thoughts and then I would like to share them with you.”

So after two or three minutes with the fire crackling and popping, Caleb shared approximately the following words. I wish now that I could have had a tiny tape recorder taking down every word, but here’s what I remember. “The most important gift, Mom, was your unconditional love. I don’t mean willy-nilly acceptance, because that’s not what our relationship has been about. I mean that even though you sometimes, maybe even often, didn’t approve of my choices, you were always there for me — a steady and available listener. And when I was through talking, you would provide constructive criticism, your own learned lessons, and always encouragement. It was from this support that I built a backbone that would allow me to be a risk taker and demonstrate my own courage.”

“Second, Caleb continued, “and this may be even more vital than the love because I think most mothers love their kids, somehow you always managed to build or remind me to build a chain of optimism, even when I was leaning toward negativity or pessimism. You taught me positive self-talk and hope for the future. I want to build my life on this point of view and make it my legacy for future generations.”

Of course just telling this story brings tears of joy to my eyes, partly because these are among the gifts I most want my son to treasure. And also because I know they have kept him going through many challenging adversities.

The first of Caleb’s adversities that I can remember were his “night shoes.” When he was seven or eight months old, Dr. Cook, his pediatrician, said his legs were too straight; they needed to bend more at the knees. We went to an orthopedic specialist who prescribed special high-top leather shoes screwed onto a metal bar which would keep his legs apart and help the bones grow and develop in the proper way. Caleb was to wear them every night. Obviously, he didn’t like them, crying when I put them on, waking up in the middle of the night and bellowing, and being so joyful in the morning when they came off.

I remember saying to him frequently, “Caleb, this won’t be forever — only six, five, or four more months.” Or “Caleb, aren’t you glad it’s only your feet; just think if you had to have ‘night gloves’ as well.” And, “Caleb, you can make a difference by doing this every night and not taking a ‘night shoe’ vacation and by being consistent about this opportunity.”

We weathered the night shoes, but it did not prepare us for the adversities Caleb faced when he was ten. His father, whom Caleb adored, became heavily involved and addicted to cocaine, probably because of some inappropriate moral decisions and inadequate consequential thinking. These choices also led Caleb’s father to contract a terrible disease: he was diagnosed as HIV positive.

This adversity was a major one, and I was not sure how to move forward. But I found myself repeating the lessons learned from the “night shoes.” “Caleb, this crisis is isolated. Yes, your immediate family is dramatically affected, but we still have Grandma and Grandpa, Uncle Pat, and Aunt Tamie. And Caleb you have so many loyal and supportive friends.”

“Caleb, this will not last forever; time will ease the disillusionment and the pain.”

“Caleb, we can grow and become stronger if we look at this as an opportunity rather than a total disaster. And Caleb I know you can find the courage to face this problem.”

It wasn’t until years later that I discovered the steps defined by Martin Seligman for teaching optimism. He outlines them in the book, Learned Optimism (Pocket Books, 1990). His data shows clearly that optimists are more motivated, more successful, have higher levels of achievement, plus significantly better physical and mental health. Aren’t these attributes and achievements we want for all of our children?

Unfortunately, current data from the National Institutes of Health also shows that American fathers spend approximately five minutes daily with their children — and mothers are only slightly better with 15 to 20 minutes daily. Moreover, the bulk of this time is spent in conversations that sound like the following:

• Have you finished your homework? Why not?

• Did you put the dishes in the dishwasher and remember to feed the dog?

• Have you called Grandma to thank her for the Valentine card and check?

• What do you mean you haven’t practiced the flute yet! When are you going to do that?

And the list goes on indefinitely. Wouldn’t a written list be a better way to communicate this information? Instead, spend those precious face-to-face moments on the bigger and more significant matters: What happened today which needs to be celebrated? Or what discouragement did your child feel today? Was it striking out with the bases loaded? Was it a C- on the Spanish test? Was it someone who poked fun at his/her braces?

If so, help your child build an immunity to his/her setbacks and put-downs. Inoculate him/her with the skills of optimism.

Several years ago I remember having a conversation with my niece, who, because of a D+ on an algebra test, assured me she would never graduate from high school; therefore, she would never get into college. As a result, she would never have any boyfriends, never get married, and never have any children. “I’ll just end up an old maid,” she emphatically cried.

“Let’s look at it this way,” I suggested. “This failure does not have to be permanent, pervasive, and personal. You can make it temporary, isolated, and change the end result with some work and effort on your part.”

I elaborated: “Have you always gotten D+ on your math grades?”

“Well, no!” she retorts.

“Is your report card just one D after another?”?

“Well, no! Of course not!”

“Is it possible that there are some ways you could change the outcome with some personal effort on your part?”

“Well, I didn’t study very hard. I could put in 15-30 minutes every day instead of just cramming just before the test.”

“And?”

” I could ask the teacher for some additional help.”

Research indicates that more girls grow up with a more pessimistic explanatory style than do boys (Howard, 1994). Some psychologists suggest that this happens because parents and teachers tend to lavish praise on boys and neglect the girls. Please be sure that your daughters learn to attribute their successes to their abilities and that their failures can be reversed.

Each day life brings forth adversities. Most of them are tiny but still stressful. They include such things as preparing a presentation for a community group; enduring someone who wonders “have your put on weight?”; being pushed aside in the grocery store line by someone who believes they are more important; or being let down by someone who was suppose to come and volunteer at the homeless shelter. And sometimes the adversities are more dramatic — such as hearing that your niece at 21 year has pre cancerous uterine cells; or that someone you admire has criticized your most recent book; or that someone you inadvertently hurt has refused to accept your apology.

Whether big or small the adversities of life will continue to plague us. However, withstanding and overcoming them will allow us to build walls of personal hope and peace.

So if I could only teach my child one lesson, this would be it. I would teach him/her this is the skill he/she will need to overcome disappointment, hurt, and despair. I would model for him/her with my words and actions that adversity can be gilded with hope; I would demonstrate that adversity brings gifts of growth (i.e., self-esteem, courage, self-reliance, etc.) which will be his/her parachute/safety net for the future.

Isn’t this a legacy that is more important that money or silver plate or stock and bonds? Perhaps twenty-plus years into the future Caleb, the father, will have a similar post-Christmas chat with a son and daughter of his own who share that the best gift they ever received from him was his gift of optimism to them.

Update On Anabel: Anabel is President of Six Seconds — a non-profit organization committed to providing resources, materials, and training to teach social and emotional skills to adults and children. Above all, she wishes to ground individuals in hope and resiliency.