Too often, we try to solve behavior problems our kids are having without actively collaborating with the kids. We tell them what we want them to do and why, and expect compliance because what we want them to do is reasonable (to us). Sometimes this works and we get compliance, but is it really a “durable solution,” as Ross Greene would call it?

Ross Greene is a psychologist who specializes in helping kids and adults work together on problem solving that not only results in desired behavior change but actively teaches the child skills necessary to be successful in an on-going way. His most recent book, Lost At School offers a clear, usable format to help adults focus differently on solutions. In one way, the book title is deceptive—making it sound as though this is only about school related issues. It’s not: It’s an approach easily applied in any relationship. In fact I sent him an email acknowledging my use of these principles with adults—an approach that makes sense to him, too, which he validated in his response.

Kids want to behave well and do well. Generally, there is no real incentive to do otherwise. I realize there are exceptions, but they are exceptions. Kids inherently want to do the right thing, and most kids by the time they are in school know basic right from wrong. Often, however, they are lagging in the behavioral skills needed to be consistently successful and/or they have a totally different picture of a situation than the adults around them have.

Here’s an example: Eight-year-old Joel often refuses to do his school work and follow directions both at school and home. Whether he’s cajoled, rewarded, or punished, it makes no difference. Joel looks like and is treated like a stubborn, willful, defiant child. On closer examination and approaching this situation from the lagging skills perspective, another picture emerges. The fact is, Joel gets overwhelmed receiving auditory directions in a group situation. He can’t remember sequential things very well and has a poor sense of time (time estimation). These combined factors mean that Joel gets overwhelmed and feels stupid and embarrassed, as well as misunderstood. Working systematically with Joel on solutions to these individual problems over time had very good results.

Too often, we put a psychological spin on behaviors that are causing problems without accounting for a broader range of possibilities. I’ve written about this in other posts, commenting primarily from the communication styles (individual differences) perspective. Ross Greene’s work helps open our minds to connect better with kids (empathy is the first ingredient in his model), collaborate, teach, and respect one another. The result is durable solutions and stronger, trusting relationships.

“I accept full responsibility” is the politically correct statement when mistakes are made. We’ve heard this over and over from CEO’s, government officials, and other leaders. Like many politically correct phrases, it so often rings hollow and is followed by a list of reasons justifying a lack of responsibility for the “mistakes.”

The reasons usually begin with, “If I knew then what I know now…” Yet, so often, a lot was known then that is not being acknowledged now. Words are important and they must match behavior—actions. Accepting responsibility and taking responsibility are two parts of the equation. Taking is a verb, which by definition expresses an act—doing something. Accepting (a transitive verb) responsibility means “to willingly receive, to endure without protest.” Accepting and taking responsibility are different, yet they must be part of a sequence of behavior to restore trust.

This is both a communication and a moral issue. When you communicate accepting and taking responsibility, there is a moral imperative to act congruently with what you said. So, when mistakes were made and the responsible party indicates willingness to accept and take responsibility, there must be action to back it up.

A heartfelt “I’m sorry” is necessary as part of the process. We, the listeners, must feel the genuineness of the apology. But even if we feel an appropriate level of sorrow, more is required before trust can be restored. The next step requires action that is transparent, where accountability is welcomed: “Here’s what I will do…” Then, of course, you must do what you said you would do in a way that is visible and can be verified. But it doesn’t stop there because when trust has been broken, the repair process (if it is successful) takes time—it is a process, not an event.

Whether we are talking about restoring the public trust or personal trust in a relationship, the same process is required. If you give a press conference or sit down to talk with your spouse about your transgressions, you express your sorrow for the specific hurts you caused and discuss your plan for attempting to restore the trust. Beyond that there is a responsibility to check back with those who were hurt to see how your corrective actions are affecting them.

Good leadership, like good friendship and parenting, requires backing up healing words with healing actions. We all make mistakes and must learn how to talk about them and what to do about them. We must not condemn each other for our mistakes. But it is hard not to when real responsibility is not taken. We must hold each other accountable, not to punish but to maintain a level of humanity and accountability for the common good.

Do You Know What I Mean?—Discovering Your Personal Communication Style was published one year ago. I’ve enjoyed having contact with many new people as a result of publishing this book and gotten a lot of worthwhile, positive feedback—all of which is gratifying.

During the past year I’ve also noticed a pattern to the questions and comments I’ve received, which has helped me become more efficient and focused in giving direction with the communication styles framework. So let me summarize by making a few bullet points:

• Start by focusing on the interpersonal and interpersonal—which one is stronger? Once you develop familiarity with the inter- and intra-, it’s easy to relate to the whole concept.
• Yes, all seven communication components are actively engaged all the time when you are talking with anyone.
• You likely have a few components that dominate your style and are easy to be aware of. The others are more elusive. That’s okay.
• Don’t try too hard to figure out other people’s styles. By focusing more on yourself, you’ll naturally pick up on cues about others.
• The more grounded you are in the CS framework, the more irrelevant the male/female communication stereotypes become.
• Workplace collaboration naturally grows from using the CS framework.

Working with the communication styles framework is actually fun. Noticing individual differences naturally creates more patience and results in better overall communication.

I really enjoy getting questions and comments. Please keep them coming.

For many years, mental health professionals were guided by the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual to differentiate bereavement from depression. In other words, if someone is grieving the loss of a loved one, don’t assign a primary diagnosis of depression. However, it looks like this is about to change.

The American Psychiatric Association is in the process of revising the DSM and is proposing a change to the bereavement exclusion. The proposed change says that after two weeks…no, this is not a typo…after two weeks if the individual is still grieving and the grieving behavior fulfills the requirements for a depressive disorder, then give them the diagnosis for depression

I listened to an interview this morning with two of the psychiatrists involved in making these changes. The first one said that we expect “modest” grief for a couple of weeks after the death of a loved one, but then this stage of grief abates for most people. The second psychiatrist used the analogy of a broken leg, comparing it to the depressed state related to grief. The comparison seemed obtuse.

I don’t know anyone who, after grieving the death of a loved one for two weeks, wouldn’t be still in the thick of it emotionally—intermittent crying, despondent, poor appetite, etc. Yes, they may be depressed but do they have a disorder? I don’t think so.

The proposed changes to the bereavement exclusion defy common sense and do not seem to be proposed for the benefit of those deeply grieving. Frankly, I believe it is being done to create another justification for medicating people. It’s that simple—and appalling.

In the shock of grief, a sedative (old-fashioned term) is useful to help a bereaved person sleep. This is compassionate if the individual is so hysterical and too emotionally exhausted to sleep. It’s not something to do over an extended period of time, however.

Mostly, those who are heavily grieving need care: a hug, a hand held; the company of a close friend or relative who will listen when needed or simply be there in quiet support; privacy; chicken soup; an offer to help with errands or small tasks—we all know the routine. Treating grief primarily as a medical problem is wrong. Sure, grief can evolve into prolonged depression where mental health help is indicated, but not at the two week mark. What kind of message does that give to the bereaved? It tells them that a normal, difficult process they are going through is pathological. That message isn’t helpful. It’s foolish and borders on being cruel.

This proposed change reminds me of another revision of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual many years ago when the term Adjustment Reactions was changed to Adjustment Disorders. Adjustment Reactions addressed the normal struggles we all go through when we have a major stressor or transition in our lives. Adjusting to it is difficult and we need some guidance and support to navigate confusing and painful times. With the change, what was normal became a disorder—another example of pathologizing ordinary human struggles that gives people the message that something is wrong with them.

The medicalization of human behavior has become a confused mess. Our ordinary and complex lives are being funneled into the land of disorders, which further removes us from common sense approaches to helping those in need.

My friend Al has a twenty-one-year-old cat. Not many cats live that long. Al has a few cats and takes good care of them. Two of them are pretty young, frisky, and demand attention. As expected, the old cat has become quieter and less active.

Earlier this spring, the old cat seemed to be fading. In fact, he was fading dramatically enough that Al was very close to having him “put down.” Al loves the cat and would wait until it was absolutely necessary before making such a big and painful decision.

Al began focusing consistent attention on the old cat, holding and petting him, as well as talking to him. Over the next few days, the old cat came back to life in pretty full force. He was more active around the house and back to his usual self.

It’s now been two full months since this occurred and the old cat is in good shape, the vet can hardly believe it, and Al is very happy. When Al was telling me the story, he summarized it this way: “The younger cats were getting most of the attention without my realizing it. Once I gave more attention to the old guy, everything changed. And it was pretty distressing to think how close I came to having him put down.”

Most of the time when parents are concerned about one of their kids, the first bit of advice I give is, “Spend a little bit more one-on-one time with your child.” It never hurts and often it helps more than you’d think. Usually this increase in attention results in more physical contact (a recent post discussed the importance of touch) and affection, as well. Giving our direct attention and affection to loved ones is something we should never take for granted. It’s a simple truth, but hard to do in our busy lives.

Many years ago when I was first discovering the value of learning styles, I became keenly aware of my auditory sense. For me, hearing is the gateway to understanding. I easily hear emotion in sound, whether it is words or music (other sounds, too). Therefore, talking on the phone is easy for me. I like it. I don’t feel cut off from information the way those who are more strongly visual do. It is my most reliable sense. I trust it.

As I focused more on the auditory sense, I realized how frequently I hear music in my head, especially when I’m alone. For days, I sing a part of a song or orchestral piece, both internally and externally. My body seems attuned to the rhythm of the piece. Often I try to make sense of it: why this theme? Why these words? Why this beat? I never come up with an answer. Does it reflect my mood? Does it keep me focused? Does it guide me in some way? I have no idea, and I know there is no point trying to figure it out. It’s just how I work (process) and it seems to work for me without effort.

Music is powerful—the sound, the beat, the rhythm and timbre. It is integral to culture. A world without music seems and probably is impossible. My world, in some way, revolves around it. My movements are usually in synch with the music in my head.

When I listen to others, I feel the beat and rhythm. I hear the cadence and timbre in the voice. It communicates something vital to me as I absorb communication and try to understand what is of importance. Sometimes I want to close my eyes so I can listen more intently but don’t, for fear others will find it disconcerting.

The auditory sense is vital for most people, yet some of us are clearly more connected through it and with it. It is a rich source of information and essential in guiding us toward understanding and achieving effective communication. The auditory component is, of course, a part of everyone’s communication style. Like other components that are directly related to one of our senses, it is so natural we don’t often think about it, unless we have a physical problem that compromises our use of that particular sense.

Recently I had someone say to me: “I have to remember to directly listen with my ears, because I’m so focused on seeing and feeling.” I often remind myself to pay attention to what I’m seeing because it is so easy and natural for me to only focus on what I’m feeling and hearing.

I’ve been following Alisa Bowman’s blog, www.projecthappilyeverafter.com, for several months. A couple who came to see me at a very low point in their marriage told me about the site. Between our first and second sessions, they “googled” their problem and Project Happily Ever After appeared in the search. After exploring the site, their comment to me went something like this: “She’s writing about exactly what we’re going through.”

The advice and discussion at Project Happily Ever After gave this couple renewed hope and more resources.

Alisa and I have had some correspondence during the past few months. She reviewed my book, asked me to weigh in on the topic of stonewalling in relationships for a blog post, and wrote about the value of the communication styles framework—giving an excellent summary, as well as discussing the impact it’s had on her relational world (posted this past week: 7/23/10).

There is so much self-help information available on the web, as we all know. Finding practical and useful resources isn’t always easy. However, Alisa writes about real and relevant issues in an honest, straightforward way. She’s not afraid to talk about the hard stuff, doing so with good information, humility and a sense of humor.

Alisa is also writing a book, Project Happily Ever After, which will be published in December. Look for it—it promises to be helpful, interesting, and inspiring.

Two people in the news this past week were fired from their jobs for being honest—and human. One was a journalist, the other a Department of Agriculture official in Georgia. Both were honest and open in their public comments with good intentions and clear purpose.

The journalist was a twenty year CNN veteran. She made a tweet (as in Twitter) about the death of a founding member of Hezbollah. The tweet expressed a sense of loss, which CNN saw as compromising the journalist’s objectivity. How could she have credibility if she expressed her private feelings publicly?

Two things are wrong here. The first is that the medium only allows 140 characters, so a complete understanding of what she meant is unlikely. The second is CNN didn’t bother to find out before firing her. That’s just wrong. She, of course, explained herself. Her comment was not a vote of confidence for Hezbollah, it was made out of respect for someone who had advanced the cause for women’s rights in the Middle East. That’s all.

The Department of Ag official (black) was talking honestly about her struggles with race as a young women and how she handled a situation with a man (white) who exhibited racism. His whiteness influenced her decision. She told this story in a context that was not promoting racism but doing the opposite. She appeared to have been forced to resign. Fortunately, the Department of Agriculture learned the whole story, apologized, and re-offered her the job. It shouldn’t have been necessary.

I understand the difficulty for CNN and the Ag Department in terms of public perception. They must be scrupulous with the public trust, so certain behaviors must not be allowed—discrimination and bias among them. Yet, we’ve become so jumpy about every utterance, without considering context, intention, and real impact (not imaged impact). It puts everyone on edge, trying to be politically correct all the time or you will lose your job and credibility.

It takes time and effort to understand one another. We must accept this reality, which means giving the benefit of the doubt by asking thoughtful questions until we have an absolute understanding of what was meant. That is a basic human courtesy and a basic and necessary communication skill. We must practice this in both our personal and public lives or risk continuing a climate of paranoia that fosters extreme political correctness—neither of which serves us well on any front or forum.

I listened to part of Weekend Edition this past Sunday on NPR and heard the letters-to-the-editor segment. Some of the letters referenced a story last weekend about PTSD in military personnel. The letters criticized someone interviewed who used the term, “former veterans.”

On one hand, the term “former veterans” can be somewhat amusing, a slip of the tongue, perhaps. On the other hand apparently it can be construed as a slam against veterans. This was the point of view expressed in the letters to the editor. The writers attributed negative motivation to the interviewee—that to refer to veterans with PTSD as “former” is to negate their status as veterans. I’m not kidding, and I was surprised that NPR chose to read those letters.

I heard the interview in question but do not remember hearing the words “former veterans,” although I do not question the other listeners’ memories. I do, however, question their attribution of motivation. I believe the interviewee made a harmless linguistic error. This person was being interviewed, on the spot if you will. We all make linguistic errors speaking extemporaneously. It is inevitable. To be judged because of these errors is unfair.

There are those with high linguistic sensitivity who go too far in criticizing other’s use of language, especially when the intention really is clear. From the interview, it was clear that the interviewee was not down on soldiers with PTSD. We easily got the gist of what was meant, so to be held hostage for a simple speaking error is unjust.

Use of language is important and we should be careful (without walking on eggshells) about what we say and how we say it. Those who are strong linguistically generally have a better command of language and take great care in the use of words. As I’ve noted in the chapter on the linguistic component in Do You Know What I Mean?(2009), however, one of the potential problems arising from this strength is being overly aggressive with others about their use of language. Doing this can be harmful to relationships and usually causes disruption to true understanding. Surely this is not the intended goal, but is often the net effect.

For those who are linguistically sensitive, it is best to focus on the gist of the communication first, then decide if giving feedback on the use of language will be welcomed and/or helpful. Sometimes inaccurate use of language obscures the true meaning. In that case, again, ask a thoughtful question to make sure you understand what the other person means. That, of course, is the point of communicating—achieving understanding.

What child hasn’t been scolded for calling someone names? They are admonished: That’s not nice. . . . We don’t call others names. . . . Tell him you’re sorry for calling him names. We use these and other familiar phrases to try to teach our children how to behave properly and respectfully in a civil society. Calling others names is character attack. To say, “You are an idiot,” classifies the other, is not specific about your objections/concerns, and invites defensiveness. In short, it is bad communication practice.

Most of us are careful not to do this in the workplace or with friends and acquaintances. We behave with a level of respect and courtesy that is intuitively obvious. We preserve the relationship by finding a respectful way to address problems and concerns (most of the time!).

But at home it is often a different story. Many of us assume we can “let down” at home, be “ourselves” with loved ones, with the result that we say whatever comes to mind. We justify it with a telling it like it is mentality or the moral obligation to be honest. Unfortunately, for many, familiarity lowers their standards—it in fact, does breed contempt.

In many cases, because we know the other so well, we assume we know their intentions. Logically, if we know their intentions and believe their intentions are bad, then we are justified in calling them the names they “deserve.”

From a communication standpoint it is always good practice to make sure you have verified the intentions and motivations of the other. “I know her well enough to know what she means,” isn’t good enough. You better ask her—with sincerity. “What you said really offended and hurt me. Was that your intention?” or “I don’t know where you’re coming from.”

“Oh, we are more informal. We don’t talk that way,” you say. Well that’s likely true, but there are many ways to ask for clarification. The Basic and Necessary Communication Skills section of my book, Do You Know What I Mean? offers several different ways to approach this.

As I write this I confess to having a scolding tone. Truth to tell, I am upset about this issue. I hear too many parents and kids and couples calling each other names without being aware of it. I see how desensitized they become and the gradual erosion of good will in family relationships because of it.

I hear on television, radio, and movies the smart-mouth one liners with a laugh track encouraging poor communication—words that are not about achieving understanding but are meant to get the upper hand. Good communication is not about winning, it’s about being effective in achieving understanding, which creates trust and closeness.