All posts by Mary Anne Duggan

Teaching Boundaries, Part I – Tech

I wake up to the first morning light, my brain recently bathed in glorious REM sleep. The restorative powers of sleep are legion: memory consolidation, increased problem-solving abilities, boosted immune functioning to name a few. There is evidence the brain performs a sort of housecleaning during shut-eye, making morning a ripe time for starting out the day with renewed clarity and potential.

So what do I do? Before my feet hit the floor, I grab my cell phone off the bedside table and let the fresh horrors of the overnight world infiltrate my blissfully open mind.

I tell myself that I am checking my phone because I have children. (But they are in their early 30’s, y’all.) Then, I see a red flag indicating I have e-mail, and without thinking I click to open it. And, while I’m here, I might as well check Facebook . . .

I know none of this is good. First, any student who e-mails me overnight is not writing to say what a wonderful teacher I am. Instead, it’s that there’s been a death in the family or they just plain forgot they had an assignment due at 11:59pm. And don’t get me started on how scrolling social media can affect mood.

I noticed a tendency to feel tethered to tech when I started teaching online full-time about five years ago. I had a gnawing sense that I needed to be able to respond to students at all hours of the day (and night). I thought that since I wasn’t actually teaching in-person, the tradeoff was making myself widely available to students.

So, I found myself reaching for my phone at stoplights, while I waited for my coffee, pretty much any time my brain was idle for a minute. Heaven forbid I should be left alone with my thoughts.

What I found, however, is that I was feeling exhausted all the time as an online teacher. I felt overwhelmed and a tad resentful. It seemed like I could never “catch up.” I know I’m not alone in this. Many teachers feel like their workdays never end, and that is because they don’t. Tech has a frightening way of blurring day into night, weekdays into weekends, our 40s into our 50s . . .

Over time I have discovered that most of the angst in my life can be traced to boundaries. According to Nedra Glover Tawwab, author of Set Boundaries, Find Peace, the definition of boundaries is, “expectations and needs that help you feel safe and comfortable in your relationships.” Thus, a tech boundary is one set for your relationship with yourself.

Okay, so just set a tech boundary. I’ll just tell myself I won’t pick up my phone at the slightest hint of ennui. Easy, right?

Not so fast. What makes this a struggle is we battle our brain’s reward system when we fight tech. The little red dot with a number on it is anything but innocuous; it is there to prompt us to lay eyes on the alert. Tech shapes our behavior by hijacking the reward system.

So what’s the reward associated with opening overnight e-mail?  It actually might be the positive rush of seeing that there is, to quote my cop-husband, “nothing to see here” – that good feeling of realizing there are no fires to extinguish.

In her book Good Habits, Bad Habits, author Wendy Wood writes about creating “friction” around behaviors we want to discourage. In this way, we interrupt habits that are deeply grooved in our neural pathways. Here are some ideas I’m working on for putting friction between me and tech:

  • Remove work e-mail from my phone and home devices. This works as long as I don’t circumvent by logging into e-mail using my phone’s browser.
  • Alternatively, remove e-mail notifications from all devices. Can’t quite remove e-mail from your phone altogether? Disable the notifications that keep us coming back.
  • Designate three periods a day for checking e-mail. I am more successful with this on some days than others. But, I find I am more focused when I am not trying to multi-task.
  • Put my phone where it can’t be accessed quickly. I’m not as likely to grab my phone at every stop light if it isn’t right there on the console. At the grocery store, I can put my phone at the bottom of my bag.

The other day, while waiting for coffee at my local shop, I instantly reached for my phone and thought better of it. Even if there is an e-mail I need to respond to, must I do it right now? Instead, I immersed myself in the artwork on the walls and felt a better kind of rush.

Up next week – musings on setting time boundaries as a teacher.

The post Teaching Boundaries, Part I – Tech appeared first on My Love of Learning.

Teaching Boundaries, Part I – Tech

I wake up to the first morning light, my brain recently bathed in glorious REM sleep. The restorative powers of sleep are legion: memory consolidation, increased problem-solving abilities, boosted immune functioning to name a few. There is evidence the brain performs a sort of housecleaning during shut-eye, making morning a ripe time for starting out the day with renewed clarity and potential.

So what do I do? Before my feet hit the floor, I grab my cell phone off the bedside table and let the fresh horrors of the overnight world infiltrate my blissfully open mind.

I tell myself that I am checking my phone because I have children. (But they are in their early 30’s, y’all.) Then, I see a red flag indicating I have e-mail, and without thinking I click to open it. And, while I’m here, I might as well check Facebook . . .

I know none of this is good. First, any student who e-mails me overnight is not writing to say what a wonderful teacher I am. Instead, it’s that there’s been a death in the family or they just plain forgot they had an assignment due at 11:59pm. And don’t get me started on how scrolling social media can affect mood.

I noticed a tendency to feel tethered to tech when I started teaching online full-time about five years ago. I had a gnawing sense that I needed to be able to respond to students at all hours of the day (and night). I thought that since I wasn’t actually teaching in-person, the tradeoff was making myself widely available to students.

So, I found myself reaching for my phone at stoplights, while I waited for my coffee, pretty much any time my brain was idle for a minute. Heaven forbid I should be left alone with my thoughts.

What I found, however, is that I was feeling exhausted all the time as an online teacher. I felt overwhelmed and a tad resentful. It seemed like I could never “catch up.” I know I’m not alone in this. Many teachers feel like their workdays never end, and that is because they don’t. Tech has a frightening way of blurring day into night, weekdays into weekends, our 40s into our 50s . . .

Over time I have discovered that most of the angst in my life can be traced to boundaries. According to Nedra Glover Tawwab, author of Set Boundaries, Find Peace, the definition of boundaries is, “expectations and needs that help you feel safe and comfortable in your relationships.” Thus, a tech boundary is one set for your relationship with yourself.

Okay, so just set a tech boundary. I’ll just tell myself I won’t pick up my phone at the slightest hint of ennui. Easy, right?

Not so fast. What makes this a struggle is we battle our brain’s reward system when we fight tech. The little red dot with a number on it is anything but innocuous; it is there to prompt us to lay eyes on the alert. Tech shapes our behavior by hijacking the reward system.

So what’s the reward associated with opening overnight e-mail?  It actually might be the positive rush of seeing that there is, to quote my cop-husband, “nothing to see here” – that good feeling of realizing there are no fires to extinguish.

In her book Good Habits, Bad Habits, author Wendy Wood writes about creating “friction” around behaviors we want to discourage. In this way, we interrupt habits that are deeply grooved in our neural pathways. Here are some ideas I’m working on for putting friction between me and tech:

  • Remove work e-mail from my phone and home devices. This works as long as I don’t circumvent by logging into e-mail using my phone’s browser.
  • Alternatively, remove e-mail notifications from all devices. Can’t quite remove e-mail from your phone altogether? Disable the notifications that keep us coming back.
  • Designate three periods a day for checking e-mail. I am more successful with this on some days than others. But, I find I am more focused when I am not trying to multi-task.
  • Put my phone where it can’t be accessed quickly. I’m not as likely to grab my phone at every stop light if it isn’t right there on the console. At the grocery store, I can put my phone at the bottom of my bag.

The other day, while waiting for coffee at my local shop, I instantly reached for my phone and thought better of it. Even if there is an e-mail I need to respond to, must I do it right now? Instead, I immersed myself in the artwork on the walls and felt a better kind of rush.

Up next week – musings on setting time boundaries as a teacher.

The post Teaching Boundaries, Part I – Tech appeared first on My Love of Learning.

It’s Play Time for Teacher

I am the youngest of four children. Therefore, it was my birthright to become a clown, the fun one, a good kind of “player.” Instead, I became a teacher. And, for me, this role brought all the attendant expectations: long days, not-a-few sleepless nights, regular coffee-fueled thrusts towards pedagogical glory.

So, it should come as no surprise that when I see a week of spring break sprawled out in front of me, I start to calculate how much I can accomplish in order to get caught up at work (as if such an elusive state actually exists). But then, that baby-in-the-family in me reaches out from the deep recesses to wave her tiny finger and say, “Not so fast, Missy!”

As a psychologist, I know the importance of play. But, I constantly have to remind myself that all work and no play actually makes Dr. Duggan a tightly-wound shell of a human. Not exactly what I’m going for in life.

Before we went on break, I asked my Health Psychology students about what they do for play. One of them immediately popped up with, “Define play!” (I love these people!) According to Merriam-Webster, to play is to “engage in activity for enjoyment and recreation rather than a serious or practical purpose.”

It turns out, students and teachers alike can get caught up into cycles of overwork. Our talk about play in class quickly morphed into a discussion of “Who the hell has time?” However, one of my students mentioned giving and getting tattoos as a form of recreation. Another student said playing with her dog is her go-to for enjoyment. The conversation moved into other forms of play, such as watching TV, playing video games, and hanging out with friends.

My students inspire me, and so far my break is off to a good start. Yesterday I jogged around the park with my friends and went out for a nice breakfast after. Today, I read (for pleasure) and got a foot massage. And then there’s my daily Wordle and even more-fun Nerdle. I will do some schoolwork this week, of my choosing and on my schedule, because that feels good, too.

Me and my favorite playmates

As teachers with a seasonal schedule that includes breaks every few months, it’s easy to fall into the trap of “I’ll relax once (X).” But, “X” is always replaced with another “X.” We stretch ourselves tight with overwork during the semester because relief seems just around the corner on the calendar.

But as I’ve experienced, that rubber band of overwork springs back hard. As a result of the snap-back, the break I dreamed of could easily amount to curling up on the couch in a ball of protection, dreading the return to work. Again, not what I’m going for.

Investing time in play throughout the school year (and not just on breaks) is a goal for this serious teacher. I’m always looking for ideas – What do you do for play?

The post It’s Play Time for Teacher appeared first on My Love of Learning.

It’s Play Time for Teacher

I am the youngest of four children. Therefore, it was my birthright to become a clown, the fun one, a good kind of “player.” Instead, I became a teacher. And, for me, this role brought all the attendant expectations: long days, not-a-few sleepless nights, regular coffee-fueled thrusts towards pedagogical glory.

So, it should come as no surprise that when I see a week of spring break sprawled out in front of me, I start to calculate how much I can accomplish in order to get caught up at work (as if such an elusive state actually exists). But then, that baby-in-the-family in me reaches out from the deep recesses to wave her tiny finger and say, “Not so fast, Missy!”

As a psychologist, I know the importance of play. But, I constantly have to remind myself that all work and no play actually makes Dr. Duggan a tightly-wound shell of a human. Not exactly what I’m going for in life.

Before we went on break, I asked my Health Psychology students about what they do for play. One of them immediately popped up with, “Define play!” (I love these people!) According to Merriam-Webster, to play is to “engage in activity for enjoyment and recreation rather than a serious or practical purpose.”

It turns out, students and teachers alike can get caught up into cycles of overwork. Our talk about play in class quickly morphed into a discussion of “Who the hell has time?” However, one of my students mentioned giving and getting tattoos as a form of recreation. Another student said playing with her dog is her go-to for enjoyment. The conversation moved into other forms of play, such as watching TV, playing video games, and hanging out with friends.

My students inspire me, and so far my break is off to a good start. Yesterday I jogged around the park with my friends and went out for a nice breakfast after. Today, I read (for pleasure) and got a foot massage. And then there’s my daily Wordle and even more-fun Nerdle. I will do some schoolwork this week, of my choosing and on my schedule, because that feels good, too.

Me and my favorite playmates

As teachers with a seasonal schedule that includes breaks every few months, it’s easy to fall into the trap of “I’ll relax once (X).” But, “X” is always replaced with another “X.” We stretch ourselves tight with overwork during the semester because relief seems just around the corner on the calendar.

But as I’ve experienced, that rubber band of overwork springs back hard. As a result of the snap-back, the break I dreamed of could easily amount to curling up on the couch in a ball of protection, dreading the return to work. Again, not what I’m going for.

Investing time in play throughout the school year (and not just on breaks) is a goal for this serious teacher. I’m always looking for ideas – What do you do for play?

The post It’s Play Time for Teacher appeared first on My Love of Learning.

It’s Play Time for Teacher

I am the youngest of four children. Therefore, it was my birthright to become a clown, the fun one, a good kind of “player.” Instead, I became a teacher. And, for me, this role brought all the attendant expectations: long days, not-a-few sleepless nights, regular coffee-fueled thrusts towards pedagogical glory.

So, it should come as no surprise that when I see a week of spring break sprawled out in front of me, I start to calculate how much I can accomplish in order to get caught up at work (as if such an elusive state actually exists). But then, that baby-in-the-family in me reaches out from the deep recesses to wave her tiny finger and say, “Not so fast, Missy!”

As a psychologist, I know the importance of play. But, I constantly have to remind myself that all work and no play actually makes Dr. Duggan a tightly-wound shell of a human. Not exactly what I’m going for in life.

Before we went on break, I asked my Health Psychology students about what they do for play. One of them immediately popped up with, “Define play!” (I love these people!) According to Merriam-Webster, to play is to “engage in activity for enjoyment and recreation rather than a serious or practical purpose.”

It turns out, students and teachers alike can get caught up into cycles of overwork. Our talk about play in class quickly morphed into a discussion of “Who the hell has time?” However, one of my students mentioned giving and getting tattoos as a form of recreation. Another student said playing with her dog is her go-to for enjoyment. The conversation moved into other forms of play, such as watching TV, playing video games, and hanging out with friends.

My students inspire me, and so far my break is off to a good start. Yesterday I jogged around the park with my friends and went out for a nice breakfast after. Today, I read (for pleasure) and got a foot massage. And then there’s my daily Wordle and even more-fun Nerdle. I will do some schoolwork this week, of my choosing and on my schedule, because that feels good, too.

Me and my favorite playmates

As teachers with a seasonal schedule that includes breaks every few months, it’s easy to fall into the trap of “I’ll relax once (X).” But, “X” is always replaced with another “X.” We stretch ourselves tight with overwork during the semester because relief seems just around the corner on the calendar.

But as I’ve experienced, that rubber band of overwork springs back hard. As a result of the snap-back, the break I dreamed of could easily amount to curling up on the couch in a ball of protection, dreading the return to work. Again, not what I’m going for.

Investing time in play throughout the school year (and not just on breaks) is a goal for this serious teacher. I’m always looking for ideas – What do you do for play?

The post It’s Play Time for Teacher appeared first on My Love of Learning.

Breathing My Way into the Classroom

I once lived next door to a woman named Elsie who was a glider. I don’t mean a hang-glider or a supermodel on a runway. Rather, her general mode of getting around in the world was slow and smooth. Each footfall was steady, her arms gently swaying as she walked.

Me, I am more of a scurrier. I always seem to be a step behind where I want to be at any moment. (One night, I caught myself literally running into bed.) So, I am jealous of Elsie’s cadence, her here-and-now presence – especially when I am walking sprinting into my classroom.

Picture my typical classroom entry: I fling myself through the door to start class. I’m pulling down the screen and tapping my fingers as the computer takes its sweet-a** time to wake up. I’m arranging the day’s materials while mentally rehearsing how the lesson will go down. At times, I’m breathless.

I really should provide popcorn for my students as they watch this weekly show.

Okay, maybe it’s not all that bad, but earlier this semester I had the sense that my Health Psychology class would be improved if I was more at-peace as I deliver my opening greeting. If I were more emotionally available to my students before class. If I modeled the very same self-regulation I encourage in them.

In the book The Spark of Learning, psychologist Sarah Rose Cavanagh supports this notion. Cavanagh advocates for teaching with mindfulness, or what she refers to as “a continual calling back to the present moment.”  She also writes about presenting a sense of immediacy with students – showing I am interested in them, the subject, and the process of learning. None of this can occur if I am off kilter from minute one.

To change the way I typically fly into the room, I decided to set aside 15 minutes before each class for my own meditation and/or breath work. My class starts at 2:30, so I blocked off 2:00-2:15 as a repeating commitment on my calendar. I created a special meditation-do-not-disturb sign as a stiff arm to all door knockers. I face my chair away from my office window so I don’t have to worry about anyone seeing me in all my meditation glory.

Author next to her do not disturb sign

Headspace is my meditation app of choice, but simply doing diaphragmatic breathing or box breathing works just as well. The point is to quiet the mind, soothe the stress response system, and tether to the present moment before greeting my students. To release the relentless chatter of the to-do list playing on an endless loop.

And so far it is working! I feel more relaxed as I start class now. I am able to enjoy initial class conversations with increased focus on the people in front of me. I sense that I am connecting better with my students. It also helps that I shared what I am doing with my students since breathing and meditation are topics in this particular course – a form of what Cavanagh refers to as metainstructing.

I may never naturally glide like Elsie, but before each class I can center myself through meditation like a yogi-boss!

The post Breathing My Way into the Classroom appeared first on My Love of Learning.

Breathing My Way into the Classroom

I once lived next door to a woman named Elsie who was a glider. I don’t mean a hang-glider or a supermodel on a runway. Rather, her general mode of getting around in the world was slow and smooth. Each footfall was steady, her arms gently swaying as she walked.

Me, I am more of a scurrier. I always seem to be a step behind where I want to be at any moment. (One night, I caught myself literally running into bed.) So, I am jealous of Elsie’s cadence, her here-and-now presence – especially when I am walking sprinting into my classroom.

Picture my typical classroom entry: I fling myself through the door to start class. I’m pulling down the screen and tapping my fingers as the computer takes its sweet-a** time to wake up. I’m arranging the day’s materials while mentally rehearsing how the lesson will go down. At times, I’m breathless.

I really should provide popcorn for my students as they watch this weekly show.

Okay, maybe it’s not all that bad, but earlier this semester I had the sense that my Health Psychology class would be improved if I was more at-peace as I deliver my opening greeting. If I were more emotionally available to my students before class. If I modeled the very same self-regulation I encourage in them.

In the book The Spark of Learning, psychologist Sarah Rose Cavanagh supports this notion. Cavanagh advocates for teaching with mindfulness, or what she refers to as “a continual calling back to the present moment.”  She also writes about presenting a sense of immediacy with students – showing I am interested in them, the subject, and the process of learning. None of this can occur if I am off kilter from minute one.

To change the way I typically fly into the room, I decided to set aside 15 minutes before each class for my own meditation and/or breath work. My class starts at 2:30, so I blocked off 2:00-2:15 as a repeating commitment on my calendar. I created a special meditation-do-not-disturb sign as a stiff arm to all door knockers. I face my chair away from my office window so I don’t have to worry about anyone seeing me in all my meditation glory.

Author next to her do not disturb sign

Headspace is my meditation app of choice, but simply doing diaphragmatic breathing or box breathing works just as well. The point is to quiet the mind, soothe the stress response system, and tether to the present moment before greeting my students. To release the relentless chatter of the to-do list playing on an endless loop.

And so far it is working! I feel more relaxed as I start class now. I am able to enjoy initial class conversations with increased focus on the people in front of me. I sense that I am connecting better with my students. It also helps that I shared what I am doing with my students since breathing and meditation are topics in this particular course – a form of what Cavanagh refers to as metainstructing.

I may never naturally glide like Elsie, but before each class I can center myself through meditation like a yogi-boss!

The post Breathing My Way into the Classroom appeared first on My Love of Learning.

Breathing My Way into the Classroom

I once lived next door to a woman named Elsie who was a glider. I don’t mean a hang-glider or a supermodel on a runway. Rather, her general mode of getting around in the world was slow and smooth. Each footfall was steady, her arms gently swaying as she walked.

Me, I am more of a scurrier. I always seem to be a step behind where I want to be at any moment. (One night, I caught myself literally running into bed.) So, I am jealous of Elsie’s cadence, her here-and-now presence – especially when I am walking sprinting into my classroom.

Picture my typical classroom entry: I fling myself through the door to start class. I’m pulling down the screen and tapping my fingers as the computer takes its sweet-a** time to wake up. I’m arranging the day’s materials while mentally rehearsing how the lesson will go down. At times, I’m breathless.

I really should provide popcorn for my students as they watch this weekly show.

Okay, maybe it’s not all that bad, but earlier this semester I had the sense that my Health Psychology class would be improved if I was more at-peace as I deliver my opening greeting. If I were more emotionally available to my students before class. If I modeled the very same self-regulation I encourage in them.

In the book The Spark of Learning, psychologist Sarah Rose Cavanagh supports this notion. Cavanagh advocates for teaching with mindfulness, or what she refers to as “a continual calling back to the present moment.”  She also writes about presenting a sense of immediacy with students – showing I am interested in them, the subject, and the process of learning. None of this can occur if I am off kilter from minute one.

To change the way I typically fly into the room, I decided to set aside 15 minutes before each class for my own meditation and/or breath work. My class starts at 2:30, so I blocked off 2:00-2:15 as a repeating commitment on my calendar. I created a special meditation-do-not-disturb sign as a stiff arm to all door knockers. I face my chair away from my office window so I don’t have to worry about anyone seeing me in all my meditation glory.

Author next to her do not disturb sign

Headspace is my meditation app of choice, but simply doing diaphragmatic breathing or box breathing works just as well. The point is to quiet the mind, soothe the stress response system, and tether to the present moment before greeting my students. To release the relentless chatter of the to-do list playing on an endless loop.

And so far it is working! I feel more relaxed as I start class now. I am able to enjoy initial class conversations with increased focus on the people in front of me. I sense that I am connecting better with my students. It also helps that I shared what I am doing with my students since breathing and meditation are topics in this particular course – a form of what Cavanagh refers to as metainstructing.

I may never naturally glide like Elsie, but before each class I can center myself through meditation like a yogi-boss!

The post Breathing My Way into the Classroom appeared first on My Love of Learning.

You Stay Messy, College

Even though I am a scientist, I was born a Libra, Baby! Although I hold no stock in the pseudoscience of astrology, I always felt good about all-things-Libra as my sign: balance, harmony, love, peace, justice. It just so happens Kim Kardashian and Gandhi are also Libras. How’s that for balance?

I do an activity with my Psychology 101 students where I provide the standard descriptions of Zodiac signs without their labels and ask students to pick the set that most applies to them. Do you know how often they are able to blindly select their own signs? Almost never. And yet, some students persist in their astrological beliefs and get quite agitated when their views are challenged. Arms are crossed, eyes go white, and audible sighs reverberate. This is the life of a college classroom – socially and emotionally “messy” at times.

Exhibit A from my teaching archives: Picture my student Paul weaving his favorite video game into a class discussion for about the hundredth time this semester, (never mind that this is an adolescent psychology course). Then see George who finally has enough and yells, “Would you please shut up!” Finally, visualize Libra-me struggling to restore balance and harmony in the class. Spoiler alert: It doesn’t end well on this particular day.

In an intellectually-rich college classroom, ideas clash. Personalities collide. Students engage in a foxtrot of give-and-take, and it is not always tea and crumpets. But, conflict is an essential part of learning. Damn, how the Libra in me hates this! However, to achieve longevity in teaching, it is essential to effectively work through conflict because on the other side is greater learning. There are many strategies to process conflict in the classroom, but below are three of my “go-to”s.

Calm the stress-response system

Conflict can activate the fight-flight reflex. When this happens, a cascade of stress hormones shuttle energy away from the thinking part of the brain to the large muscles to prepare for battle. When George yelled at Paul in my class, I had not yet learned important calming techniques. As a result, I simply blurted out, “That’s enough now!” à la my former kindergarten-teacher self. I was not capable in that moment of a more reasoned response.

Since that time, I have learned to be more mindful of what is happening live in the classroom. And, when I sense conflict arising, my first step is to deepen my breath — a good inhale through the nose and a slower exhale through the mouth — repeated a few times. I am mindful when I sense my heart racing, and I silently repeat certain mantras. Slow down – you don’t need to immediately respond.

Practice “verbal judo”

You might not be surprised to learn that George called me later that day to talk about what happened. George felt that, as a person of color, he was basically being told to “go along and behave” when I cut off the conversation. Whereas I was new to the mindfulness game at that point, I was familiar with the concept of verbal judo. I first read about verbal judo in Feeling Good: The New Mood Therapy by David Burns. Although this technique is often associated with persuasion, I actually see it as a precursor to negotiation.

Burns outlines three steps to verbal judo: 1) empathy, 2) disarming the critic, and 3) feedback and negotiation. In Step 1, I asked George to explain his point of view fully, and I didn’t interrupt. The key to this step is to allow the other person to feel fully heard, and this step takes as long as it takes.

Step 2 involves finding some way to agree with the other person. This point of agreement must be genuine. I replied to George, “It must have been frustrating to feel silenced.” (Note that I am not saying I meant to silence George, but empathized with how he felt in that moment.)

In Step 3, George was ready to hear my perspective as well. I was able to explain to George that my actual concern was a physical fight would break out in class. We then engaged in a conversation where we heard each other’s perspectives without defensiveness or judgment. Out of conflict came a greater understanding on both our parts.

Maintain appropriate boundaries

I can sit with worry with the best of them. I could take Paul and George home with me, in my mind anyway, and re-run different plays on how this all could have gone down better. I could question my life choices and think I should take a job selling shoes or do anything else besides teaching.

Even after conflict is processed, it’s hard to not take it home and chew it over in your mind along with your dinner. But, rehashing it over the hash doesn’t do anything to change the events. When conflict is seen as an inevitable part of the classroom life, it’s easier to put it down at night knowing I can always pick it up again tomorrow. Moreover, knowing that conflict is normal keeps me from taking it personally. Finally, seeing conflict as potentially beneficial prevents me from running away from it. So, an essential aspect of classroom balance for me is holding conflict carefully in my arms knowing that it can be a great teacher of lessons.

This post is part of the Write 6X6 challenge at Glendale Community College.

The post You Stay Messy, College appeared first on My Love of Learning.

You Stay Messy, College

Even though I am a scientist, I was born a Libra, Baby! Although I hold no stock in the pseudoscience of astrology, I always felt good about all-things-Libra as my sign: balance, harmony, love, peace, justice. It just so happens Kim Kardashian and Gandhi are also Libras. How’s that for balance?

I do an activity with my Psychology 101 students where I provide the standard descriptions of Zodiac signs without their labels and ask students to pick the set that most applies to them. Do you know how often they are able to blindly select their own signs? Almost never. And yet, some students persist in their astrological beliefs and get quite agitated when their views are challenged. Arms are crossed, eyes go white, and audible sighs reverberate. This is the life of a college classroom – socially and emotionally “messy” at times.

Exhibit A from my teaching archives: Picture my student Paul weaving his favorite video game into a class discussion for about the hundredth time this semester, (never mind that this is an adolescent psychology course). Then see George who finally has enough and yells, “Would you please shut up!” Finally, visualize Libra-me struggling to restore balance and harmony in the class. Spoiler alert: It doesn’t end well on this particular day.

In an intellectually-rich college classroom, ideas clash. Personalities collide. Students engage in a foxtrot of give-and-take, and it is not always tea and crumpets. But, conflict is an essential part of learning. Damn, how the Libra in me hates this! However, to achieve longevity in teaching, it is essential to effectively work through conflict because on the other side is greater learning. There are many strategies to process conflict in the classroom, but below are three of my “go-to”s.

Calm the stress-response system

Conflict can activate the fight-flight reflex. When this happens, a cascade of stress hormones shuttle energy away from the thinking part of the brain to the large muscles to prepare for battle. When George yelled at Paul in my class, I had not yet learned important calming techniques. As a result, I simply blurted out, “That’s enough now!” à la my former kindergarten-teacher self. I was not capable in that moment of a more reasoned response.

Since that time, I have learned to be more mindful of what is happening live in the classroom. And, when I sense conflict arising, my first step is to deepen my breath — a good inhale through the nose and a slower exhale through the mouth — repeated a few times. I am mindful when I sense my heart racing, and I silently repeat certain mantras. Slow down – you don’t need to immediately respond.

Practice “verbal judo”

You might not be surprised to learn that George called me later that day to talk about what happened. George felt that, as a person of color, he was basically being told to “go along and behave” when I cut off the conversation. Whereas I was new to the mindfulness game at that point, I was familiar with the concept of verbal judo. I first read about verbal judo in Feeling Good: The New Mood Therapy by David Burns. Although this technique is often associated with persuasion, I actually see it as a precursor to negotiation.

Burns outlines three steps to verbal judo: 1) empathy, 2) disarming the critic, and 3) feedback and negotiation. In Step 1, I asked George to explain his point of view fully, and I didn’t interrupt. The key to this step is to allow the other person to feel fully heard, and this step takes as long as it takes.

Step 2 involves finding some way to agree with the other person. This point of agreement must be genuine. I replied to George, “It must have been frustrating to feel silenced.” (Note that I am not saying I meant to silence George, but empathized with how he felt in that moment.)

In Step 3, George was ready to hear my perspective as well. I was able to explain to George that my actual concern was a physical fight would break out in class. We then engaged in a conversation where we heard each other’s perspectives without defensiveness or judgment. Out of conflict came a greater understanding on both our parts.

Maintain appropriate boundaries

I can sit with worry with the best of them. I could take Paul and George home with me, in my mind anyway, and re-run different plays on how this all could have gone down better. I could question my life choices and think I should take a job selling shoes or do anything else besides teaching.

Even after conflict is processed, it’s hard to not take it home and chew it over in your mind along with your dinner. But, rehashing it over the hash doesn’t do anything to change the events. When conflict is seen as an inevitable part of the classroom life, it’s easier to put it down at night knowing I can always pick it up again tomorrow. Moreover, knowing that conflict is normal keeps me from taking it personally. Finally, seeing conflict as potentially beneficial prevents me from running away from it. So, an essential aspect of classroom balance for me is holding conflict carefully in my arms knowing that it can be a great teacher of lessons.

This post is part of the Write 6X6 challenge at Glendale Community College.

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