Just yesterday, a well-meaning public school teacher remarked that a student's difficulties were traceable to a lack of self-esteem. The underlying hypothesis here--that low self-esteem leads to poor behavior and high self-esteem leads to "good" behavior--is just that: a hypothesis. And it is one that has been tested by psychologists such as Roy Baumeister and many others. The findings seem unequivocable to me: behavioral, athletic, or academic excellence is not caused by raising someone's self-esteem. In fact, trying to raise self-esteem directly can lead to worsening performance, a result that is in keeping with a great deal of anecdotal evidence, at least in my daily life.
Baumeister, among others, has found that those who habitually mess up--bullies and criminals, for example--don't suffer from low self-esteem. Rather, they may display an especially inflated, self-regarding form, usually referred to as narcissism. Insofar as students have been encouraged to become raging narcissists, they have been cheated. They are walking on a path that leads to progressively weaker behavior.
Effective training or teaching--as has been known for a few thousand years--should focus on the result, the concrete behavior or accomplishment. Complimenting for objective accomplishment can increase future excellence. However, we live in the 21st century, not some past in which children or apprentices could be treated like trash until they proved themselves. Though we need not constantly compliment the inner person just for being a person, we should be reluctant to hand out abuse under the guise of toughing up students.
Compliment the behavior, not the person or personality. Refrain from negative reinforcement when it insults human dignity. But remember that people--particularly children and teenagers--are a lot more resilient than we often acknowledge in these paranoid times. Some struggle is essential.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Thursday, February 5, 2009
The Power of Straight Up Apology
A straight up apology is one in which someone does not say, "I apologize if anyone was offended." One apologizes for actions or words simplicter. If done quickly, then, as suggested by authors down through the centuries--including the author of the Hagakure, the book that describes how the samurai ought to act--the offense may seem to vanish. The listeners or readers now have an obligation to accept the apology, or at least seriously consider doing so.
If one waits too long (and this is a necessarily elastic concept of "too long), then the straight up apology may not help at all. We use a complex code of timing and appropriate content.
All this is brought to mind by a written apology offered by an officer of a civic organization I belong to. By writing the apology, he really is committed to its promulgation. The offense may not really involve any ethical or legal matters--thus, he may not have committed an offense at all. But rather than draw out the arguments, he just sent an apology to all the members. I thought that was well done.
If one waits too long (and this is a necessarily elastic concept of "too long), then the straight up apology may not help at all. We use a complex code of timing and appropriate content.
All this is brought to mind by a written apology offered by an officer of a civic organization I belong to. By writing the apology, he really is committed to its promulgation. The offense may not really involve any ethical or legal matters--thus, he may not have committed an offense at all. But rather than draw out the arguments, he just sent an apology to all the members. I thought that was well done.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Virtual Virtue
Election Day in the United States: for once, columnists and pundits are correct in reporting an undercurrent of excitement, although that may be too weak of a word--it's an overcurrent. We have survived months of nasty conspiracy-thinking mental viruses unleashed upon friends and foes alike. The only despair I have felt about the political process this year has been the awful fearfulness some of my friends now display. As Barry Glassner wrote some time ago in The Culture of Fear, we too often are afraid of things that we should not be, and are distracted entirely from those things that, though difficult and nearly intractable, require our vigilance.
The actual topic today is relevant to our elections, since it concerns the very meaning of political. For the Romans and Greeks (to generalize a bit), one's public character was everything--the idea of a separate "private" one would have made little since. The downside of such a view is its sanctioning of private horribleness--one could be a monster at home, as long as one's actions never leaked out to the public. But the strength of this view is its focus on actions for which one is accountable. Ones actions can be tallied up and tracked.
For much of recorded history, humans lived in small groupings: villages or towns where many people knew your business. Highly mobile, industrialized societies are quite recent, but supposedly such mobility has led to social disconnection and a general loss of community. I suggest that the Web and other recent developments are returning us to a permanent era of accountability, though often of the phantom sort (that is, people can know a great deal about your supposed actions, though the information may be erroneous). We will need to care about--and for--our reputations from a much earlier age. No more reinventing ourselves in high school or college or our second or third jobs. Such a change is big, but we can handle it by aiming for consistency in our actions across platforms, communities, and virtual environments.
Critics of the Internet and game technology worry that the line between reality and fantasy is being blurred. If we follow out the reasoning, however, we might conclude that one should start to act as though a virtual environment, at least when it is not an obvious game or role-playing situation, is an authentic political arena that affects our reputations, and therefore the constitution of our characters.
The actual topic today is relevant to our elections, since it concerns the very meaning of political. For the Romans and Greeks (to generalize a bit), one's public character was everything--the idea of a separate "private" one would have made little since. The downside of such a view is its sanctioning of private horribleness--one could be a monster at home, as long as one's actions never leaked out to the public. But the strength of this view is its focus on actions for which one is accountable. Ones actions can be tallied up and tracked.
For much of recorded history, humans lived in small groupings: villages or towns where many people knew your business. Highly mobile, industrialized societies are quite recent, but supposedly such mobility has led to social disconnection and a general loss of community. I suggest that the Web and other recent developments are returning us to a permanent era of accountability, though often of the phantom sort (that is, people can know a great deal about your supposed actions, though the information may be erroneous). We will need to care about--and for--our reputations from a much earlier age. No more reinventing ourselves in high school or college or our second or third jobs. Such a change is big, but we can handle it by aiming for consistency in our actions across platforms, communities, and virtual environments.
Critics of the Internet and game technology worry that the line between reality and fantasy is being blurred. If we follow out the reasoning, however, we might conclude that one should start to act as though a virtual environment, at least when it is not an obvious game or role-playing situation, is an authentic political arena that affects our reputations, and therefore the constitution of our characters.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
At the FCTE Conference, Orlando, Florida
I'm a bit early to a conference, for once. Today (Thursday) the conference opens, but I must have caught the registration people at lunch--this is the middle of the "pre-conference," actually. So after walking around looking quite confused, I am sure, I have given in. While a crowd of seemingly two hundred troop into a ballroom for a pre-paid lunch, I'm sitting in the New American cuisine-style hotel cafe (this is a Renaissance--quite nice, but too rich for my blood right now. So I am staying at a much cheaper, somewhat down-at-the-heels conference hotel exactly four minutes away by Mapquest claim). Internet access is a steep $10 per day--fortunately, I seem to be riding on some kind person's open access WiFi.
(Score so far for those who expect bloggers to notate the minutae of the day: nice service, undrinkable espresso. I view the latter as nothing artsy or special, just real coffee. The server--Tracy, by the way, has maintained her cheer nicely. She even said that she would be "honored" to be mentioned in this blog--a nice choice of words, given the very name of this blog!)
I last presented at an FTCE conference when I taught in an inner-city high school. I have returned as a business owner, but one who still believes in the fundamental principles underlying my approach to creating a miniature culture of honor in the classroom, whether high school or college. Tomorrow, I'll be leading a workshop for high school teachers that provides concrete strategies that build the dignity of teachers and students. I have no doubt that we can improve the situation in schools so that teachers (and students) don't burn out.
My friends who still are teaching in Florida public schools--most of them veteran, award-winning teachers--are showing signs of complete exhaustion. Principles have had to make do with less and less money while suffering a barrage of new "intiatives." But these initiatives drain people, rather than inspire them.
When people outside the school system hear about bureacracy, they may imagine complex documentation. Sure, that's part of the burden. But what I found while working for the public school system went beyond complexity: the forms seemed cramped and out-of-date, with no uniformity. No one had the time to update procedures so that teachers and administrators struggle with a bizarre, ugly chimera of online and hard-copy forms. If you have known the (relative) satisifaction of completing a paperwork task cleanly and precisely, then invert that feeling and you will have a sense of the ugly, lumbering educational bureacracy that provides a mental environment at odds with any sense of professionalism, let alone beauty or quiet control.
(Score so far for those who expect bloggers to notate the minutae of the day: nice service, undrinkable espresso. I view the latter as nothing artsy or special, just real coffee. The server--Tracy, by the way, has maintained her cheer nicely. She even said that she would be "honored" to be mentioned in this blog--a nice choice of words, given the very name of this blog!)
I last presented at an FTCE conference when I taught in an inner-city high school. I have returned as a business owner, but one who still believes in the fundamental principles underlying my approach to creating a miniature culture of honor in the classroom, whether high school or college. Tomorrow, I'll be leading a workshop for high school teachers that provides concrete strategies that build the dignity of teachers and students. I have no doubt that we can improve the situation in schools so that teachers (and students) don't burn out.
My friends who still are teaching in Florida public schools--most of them veteran, award-winning teachers--are showing signs of complete exhaustion. Principles have had to make do with less and less money while suffering a barrage of new "intiatives." But these initiatives drain people, rather than inspire them.
When people outside the school system hear about bureacracy, they may imagine complex documentation. Sure, that's part of the burden. But what I found while working for the public school system went beyond complexity: the forms seemed cramped and out-of-date, with no uniformity. No one had the time to update procedures so that teachers and administrators struggle with a bizarre, ugly chimera of online and hard-copy forms. If you have known the (relative) satisifaction of completing a paperwork task cleanly and precisely, then invert that feeling and you will have a sense of the ugly, lumbering educational bureacracy that provides a mental environment at odds with any sense of professionalism, let alone beauty or quiet control.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Apologies that Work
Theodore Dalrymple's "False Apology Syndrome--I'm Sorry for Your Sins" (http://www.incharacter.org/article.php?article=119) often hits the right tone. He moves beyond the insincere-sounding "I'm sorry if you were insulted" and its ilk to the public apologies for past transgressions by long-dead people. So the Pope apologizes for the Crusades, and Tony Blair apologizes for the potato famine. Dalrymple claims that such pseudo-apologies actually have a corrosive effect on virtue. It increases pride without any real responsibility--virtue becomes a matter of loud proclamation, rather than painful self-examination.
He also suggests that shame--that often ignored emotion (no one is supposed to feel ashamed these days)--is an appropriate moral emotion for past transgressions, at least horrible ones. His article is consistent with others that place such emotions at the center of our moral lives.
Dalrymple is concerned with the effect of sham apologies on the giver and recipient. So how should we apologize? The guidelines should include the preservation of the recipient's dignity. For many transgressions of the daily variety, they should in some way preserve the giver's dignity, too. That is, by facing those to whom you are apologizing in a dignified (but not arrogant) manner, you actually are demonstrating respect. And such apologies transmit the indirect message that you will be good for something after the apology, including action to make things better.
He also suggests that shame--that often ignored emotion (no one is supposed to feel ashamed these days)--is an appropriate moral emotion for past transgressions, at least horrible ones. His article is consistent with others that place such emotions at the center of our moral lives.
Dalrymple is concerned with the effect of sham apologies on the giver and recipient. So how should we apologize? The guidelines should include the preservation of the recipient's dignity. For many transgressions of the daily variety, they should in some way preserve the giver's dignity, too. That is, by facing those to whom you are apologizing in a dignified (but not arrogant) manner, you actually are demonstrating respect. And such apologies transmit the indirect message that you will be good for something after the apology, including action to make things better.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
The Mountains Have Severed My Exo-Cortex
I write this from a vacation home (not mine) perched near the top of a mountain in Otto, North Carolina, a small, picturesque town near the westernmost tip of the state. The only internet connection available is a slow 28.8 dial-up, a circumstance that has rendered any work dependent on the Web relative misery (and yes, I do remember when such a modem speed seemed blazingly fast).
My main problem right now is work, not entertainment—the lack of bandwidth is an inconvenience. Still, I feel the nagging lack of access, as though part of my cortex—my exocortex, I suppose—has been cut off. I have sufficient internal resources so that I can function comfortably within my own skull. Surely, though, the day is not far off when many people will distribute more of their identities in fragments spread throughout the net, keeping records, files, and preferences in many places. Or rather, represent themselves as clouds of preferences, drawing in data only when and as needed.
I think that we may well be the last generation to insist that our personal libraries be housed in one room, one house, one hard drive, or one head. I like being able to house such a personal collection, but my likes and dislikes will not affect the shift to a different world. But to accept wide distribution of information and data does not mean that we should accept a loss of control. Psychologists developed the term locus of control, but we might use it in a less technical way to emphasize our need to maintain a sense that we can identify some place or location that represents what we fundamentally are.
I notice that this post is a bit fragmented.
My main problem right now is work, not entertainment—the lack of bandwidth is an inconvenience. Still, I feel the nagging lack of access, as though part of my cortex—my exocortex, I suppose—has been cut off. I have sufficient internal resources so that I can function comfortably within my own skull. Surely, though, the day is not far off when many people will distribute more of their identities in fragments spread throughout the net, keeping records, files, and preferences in many places. Or rather, represent themselves as clouds of preferences, drawing in data only when and as needed.
I think that we may well be the last generation to insist that our personal libraries be housed in one room, one house, one hard drive, or one head. I like being able to house such a personal collection, but my likes and dislikes will not affect the shift to a different world. But to accept wide distribution of information and data does not mean that we should accept a loss of control. Psychologists developed the term locus of control, but we might use it in a less technical way to emphasize our need to maintain a sense that we can identify some place or location that represents what we fundamentally are.
I notice that this post is a bit fragmented.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Can We Focus through All the Phog?
An onslaught of books and articles confirms what many of us have known for some time: multi-tasking, in any meaningful sense, is a mirage. Particularly for the daily tasks of the office commuter, one simply cannot email and phone, phone and drive, and so on, without degrading each individual task. The behavioral deficit may be abetted by a nasty side-effect: “rewiring” our brains in a way that cannot be undone.
The latest entry is Brian Appleyard’s deftly written “Stoooopid .... Why the Google Generation Isn’t as Smart as It Thinks: The Digital Age is Destroying Us by Ruining Our Ability to Concentrate"
http://technology.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/tech_and_web/the_web/article4362950.ece --I especially that he mentions that all the worry may be the usual hand-wringing of this generation’s older generation. Still, he comes down firmly on the pessimist’s side.
If we really are caught up in a “phog,” what should we do? I suggest that it is not enough to tell people to disconnect, even though such advice makes sense to those of us who existed before the Web. We need to be strategic: if you want, say, a teenager to learn the importance of single focus, then you must demonstrate its value. Doing so is not so hard. For example, if teachers asked students to memorize short quotes, then slip them strategically into conversations throughout their days (and this is the sort of lesson taught in Antiquity), then teenagers—and young adults—understand immediately the benefits of deep focus. I realize that this focus is not the same as that required for artistic, mathematical, scientific, and other like immersions, but it is a start.
While technological consumer clutter partly got us into this mess, I do suspect that the very same may help us out of it a bit. For example, it won’t be long before we can create online avatars to handle low-level inquiries, presences that are programmed with our usual responses. We may well come to see these as extensions of ourselves. I strongly believe that we will do so someday, even if it is long after I am gone.
In the meantime, we need strengthened “out-of-office” replies that allow us to engage in off-line thinking. Some cognitive psychologists and linguists claim that language, particularly written language, offered us the ability to download some mental tasks into the environment (for example, ones that require remembering locations and directions), thus freeing more room for thinking other thoughts. In addition, language itself helps build a cognitive space for that off-line thinking, detached from immediate action—thus, we can conceive alternative futures.
It is perverse that our tools are reclaiming our online thinking, but we can build new ones that wall it off, too.
The latest entry is Brian Appleyard’s deftly written “Stoooopid .... Why the Google Generation Isn’t as Smart as It Thinks: The Digital Age is Destroying Us by Ruining Our Ability to Concentrate"
http://technology.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/tech_and_web/the_web/article4362950.ece --I especially that he mentions that all the worry may be the usual hand-wringing of this generation’s older generation. Still, he comes down firmly on the pessimist’s side.
If we really are caught up in a “phog,” what should we do? I suggest that it is not enough to tell people to disconnect, even though such advice makes sense to those of us who existed before the Web. We need to be strategic: if you want, say, a teenager to learn the importance of single focus, then you must demonstrate its value. Doing so is not so hard. For example, if teachers asked students to memorize short quotes, then slip them strategically into conversations throughout their days (and this is the sort of lesson taught in Antiquity), then teenagers—and young adults—understand immediately the benefits of deep focus. I realize that this focus is not the same as that required for artistic, mathematical, scientific, and other like immersions, but it is a start.
While technological consumer clutter partly got us into this mess, I do suspect that the very same may help us out of it a bit. For example, it won’t be long before we can create online avatars to handle low-level inquiries, presences that are programmed with our usual responses. We may well come to see these as extensions of ourselves. I strongly believe that we will do so someday, even if it is long after I am gone.
In the meantime, we need strengthened “out-of-office” replies that allow us to engage in off-line thinking. Some cognitive psychologists and linguists claim that language, particularly written language, offered us the ability to download some mental tasks into the environment (for example, ones that require remembering locations and directions), thus freeing more room for thinking other thoughts. In addition, language itself helps build a cognitive space for that off-line thinking, detached from immediate action—thus, we can conceive alternative futures.
It is perverse that our tools are reclaiming our online thinking, but we can build new ones that wall it off, too.
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