Seeing the Positive Intention

Years ago, as a desperate newbie teacher with an out-of-control classroom, I read Jane Nelson’s Positive Discipline in the Classroom. Later, as a parent desperate to prevent out-of-control children at home, I read Positive Discipline.

In both books, Nelsen points out that kids’ misbehavior grows from mistaken goals, such as attention and power. Adults need to look beyond behavior and seek the child’s positive intention.

So, for example, when one of my students loudly interrupts me as I’m starting class, I deal with his attention-seeking behavior. But I also look for ways to honor his positive intention: this student wants to connect with me. I seek appropriate (and far less public!) ways to build my one-on-one relationship with the student.

Or if a student argues with me beyond what the situation warrants, I deal with the power-seeking behavior. But I also look for ways to honor her positive intention: this student desires influence. I seek appropriate ways to mentor this student in leadership, in and out of the classroom.

Within each negative behavior hides a positive intention. (Click to Tweet this.)

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A few weeks ago, at my Eating Disorder support group, one of the members was returning Jenni Schaefer’s excellent book Life Without Ed.

I commented that I’d found the book especially powerful in shifting my own thinking when I read it 7 years ago.

The group leader asked me if I’d seen her newest book, Goodbye Ed, Hello Me.

My glowing endorsement faded to a scowl as I acknowledge that I had.

“What did you think?” she asked.

“It made me mad,” I responded.

“Why?” she pressed.

“The way she considers herself 100% recovered makes me jealous,” I confessed.

“Or perhaps hopeful?” the leader suggested.

We moved on to other topics, but her unexpected juxtaposition of jealousy and hope startled me. I’ve been pondering it ever since.

Perhaps within every negative emotion lies a positive intention?

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I nearly stopped on top of a freeway overpass recently. The road was dry, the sun was out. Yet as I drove up, up, up and around the overpass, sudden anxiety crashed over me. My palms broke out in sweat. My peripheral vision closed in. I slowed, breathed deeply, shook out my shoulders, and all was well. But what was that all about?

To be honest, that wasn’t the first time. Over the last few months, I’d “freaked out” several times while driving on the freeway, always on the freeway while driving overpasses or major curves. I’d always maintained control of the car, but I worried about what these episodes meant.

What kind of trick was my mind playing on me and why? Was I developing an escalating anxiety disorder? Vertigo? Was I losing my ability to drive altogether?

Driving from Southern California to Monterey last Sunday, I was hit by similar panic. The torrential rain pouring down and flooded highway only made things worse. I truly “white knuckled” it as I sought an offramp. And I began to mentally berate myself.

“What is wrong with you? Why can’t you get a grip? You’ve been driving for almost 30 years. You’ve done this hundreds of times before. This time is no different.”

Suddenly the thought occurred to me: But what if this time is different?

What if, instead of berating my body for these “crazy” signals it’s sending me, I listen? What if I believe what my sweaty hands and ringing ears are telling me: that I am in danger and my body is doing everything possible to protect me?

What if I trust that behind these negative physical reactions is a positive intention?

As I relaxed and continued on with caution, I realized that every single “episode” had occurred when I was driving a left curve. Never one to the right.

And I recalled reading in Malcolm Gladwell’s Blink that our subconscious causes us to change behaviors well before our conscious mind realizes what we’re doing or why.

What if the grinding “transmission” noise I’d been hearing during our 420 mile drive down to Southern California and, now–even louder–on our 420 drive back home wasn’t transmission after all?

Sure enough, on Tuesday, Nissan replaced my Murano’s left front wheel bearings (still under the extended warranty, thank goodness!)

Left curves and overpasses on the freeway? No trouble, now!

And hopefully in the future, I’ll have less trouble seeing the positive intention, in behaviors, emotions, and even physical reactions.

In others and in myself.