Month: May 2020

Is it just a hunch or is it in fact true that the virtues learned through participation in sport can translate into other areas of our lives? I started thinking about this again recently when I was listening to a podcast in which two of the hosts were contemplating whether a long-distance runner might somehow possess more “endurance” when it comes to suffering through torture at the hands of his captor. It’s an extreme example no doubt – maybe not the best one for this argument as I imagine that someone who endures torture without completely breaking down has traits and habits of mind that can’t be chalked up to the ability to run miles and miles – but the taxation of staying the course physically and mentally when both your body and mind beg you to stop is like any other learned skill. Some are naturally better at it than others, but anyone who practices at it can get better. And enduring pain, boredom, grief, or any other uncomfortable state of being is part of being human. So there are many opportunities to flex the skills of endurance.

Something endurance athletes learn is that the pain is a temporary condition. They know it’s finite and they usually believe that once it’s over, there is great reward. Or at least, there is the relief of having stopped doing something incredibly difficult. So, tapping into that memory of what it’s like to grit your teeth and carry on because you know you’ll come out on the other side, seems to be something that endurance athletes can access when facing challenges outside the athletic arena.

Another element of the endurance mindset that can translate is the ability to silence the thoughts that say “stop.” Endurance athletes learn when the “stop” message is a true survival signal and when it’s a false message, delivered by an instinct like the one that makes some dogs cover their food bowl to protect it from other dogs — even when they are the only dog in the house and will get fed like clockwork twice a day. Some deep-seeded instinct that long ago preserved life but is now looks like a behavioral relic. I believe that endurance athletes learn to identify those signals as fakes. They learn to ignore them and develop that habit quickly, the habit of discarding the negative thought and moving on.

Finally, the lessons of endurance normally teach that there is benefit from the pain (assuming the athlete can tell the difference between pain that will make them stronger and pain that signals that there is something seriously wrong with the body.) Whether the benefit is getting faster or being able to go longer, improve performance, relieve stress, or the satisfaction of accomplishing a difficult feat, the endurance mind knows that the pain is both temporary AND constructive. There is a tangible and positive effect from doing it.

So will that same virtue emerge in the work setting when the challenge is a difficult project or managing a personal conflict? It may. But perhaps it’s more likely to translate when the endurance athlete cognitively connects the skill to the work setting. When the mind says “If I can (fill in the blank – run a  marathon, swim 2 miles in open water, etc.) I can deal with this difficult co-worker” then the connection has been made.

Spring, 2019

Earlier this year, my mother was admitted to the hospital for what we thought was a kidney stone. Turns out she had shingles which is an extraordinarily painful condition and she was in significant distress. Her diagnosis aside, while I was waiting with her to find out whether or not she would be discharged that day, I noticed a checklist posted in her hospital room. 

The intention of the checklist was to serve as a reminder to the nurses, doctors, and other employees about the importance of listening. It began with a reminder to make eye contact with the patient. Somewhere around #4 or #5 on the checklist was the item “act interested.” I laughed out loud. My mother, who was still in pain, was not so amused.

As is often the case with hospitals, they seemed to be understaffed, managing multiple tasks, and waiting – endlessly, it seemed — for direction from doctors who were equally busy. From my experience in student affairs, it felt like the chaos of move in day for new students. Everyone was running around trying to make stressed and anxious people less stressed and anxious; there never seemed to be enough time to pay close attention to any particular patient, and at this hospital on this particular day, the employees were less than friendly. I was sympathetic to their plight. But this was my mother, the woman who gave birth to me and literally labored to bring me into the world. She was in pain, she felt like she didn’t have control over her own well-being, and we were being tossed from person to person, each of whom seemed to be too busy or without authority to give us any definitive information. They didn’t have time to follow their checklist and listen.

I thought to myself that the hospital checklist – despite its amusing exhortation to “act interested” when talking to patients — was a good thing. I know that the medical and aviation industries are wedded to their checklists and for that I am grateful. When your work includes holding people’s lives in your ends, minimizing or eliminating mistakes seems pretty important. 

And it occurred to me that those of us who work in student affairs and student services have much more in common with healthcare providers in a hospital setting than almost any other workplace setting. 

We are faced daily with people who are anxious and unfamiliar with their surroundings. And we are trying to respond to them while we ourselves are also stressed and anxious. So we are not always as patient and helpful as we’d like to be when they show up at (or call) our student affairs office with questions.

Our students and their families are also struggling with a knowledge or experience gap. Even those who are second- or third-generation college students are bewildered by the array of systems set up to manage the student experience on a college campus. I’ve been working on my small, liberal arts campus for many years and there are days I can’t figure out how to get help when my email doesn’t function or when my chair breaks. One can imagine that a first-generation student could easily become overwhelmed by it all. Oh, and by the way, we still want them to go to class, focus on their studies, become involved, and prepare for life after college. 

So how can we do this better? What should our “checklist” look like that will remind us how to approach helping students navigate this unfamiliar environment? When they or their family members call or show up at our office, how can we ensure that their experience will be both pleasant and productive? 

1. Empathize immediately. I don’t mean in the deeply emotional way. I mean that we need to first get out of our own skin and remember that students and their families don’t know what we know. So simply saying “you need to take this form over to the registrar’s office” could be problematic for several reasons. First, they may not know where the registrar’s office is. Second, they may have no idea what a registrar even is! Assume lack of knowledge – not in a condescending way… 
2. Pay attention. Make eye contact or at least, stop what you’re doing and give the student (or parent) your full attention. In many cases, they already feel like they’re bothering you. There’s no need to reinforce that perception by checking your cell phone, filing forms, or staring at your computer screen.
3. Listen and ask questions to clarify. We often get students who wander into our office and tell us that their ID card doesn’t work. Sending them away to another office without first identifying more about what the problem is could send them on a never-ending quest across campus for someone who can actually help them. So we ask the student where the ID card doesn’t work – the dining hall, the electronic access to their residence hall, the library? Their answer helps us better understand why the card isn’t working and who on campus can resolve the problem. 
4. Pave the way. Before sending a student off to another office, make sure that a) the person can actually help them; b) whether that person is available; and c) that the student knows exactly how and when to get there. We have trained our student workers to always call the next office that they are referring a student or parent to before transferring the call. If no one is available, they let the student know how to get in touch with that person and that if they are unable to do so, to feel free to come back to our office so we can help.
5. Write it down! This is actually part of empathy. Really! Rattling off a string of information including phone numbers, locations, names, etc. without writing it down for the student (even if they say they’ll remember) almost ensures a breakdown in communication. You may know this information backward and forward but for the student, this could be the first time they’ve heard the information. They’ll walk out the door and immediately forget what building they are supposed to go to and who they need to see (or what a registrar is!). I still love post-its for this (although some students are perfectly content to type the information into their cell phone). 

On our good days, this checklist might be a no-brainer and easy to follow. But, just like hospitals, we can get busy and overwhelmed. And we will very often be helping people who are stressed, confused, and unfamiliar with the world we inhabit every day. For those reasons, a checklist is always good to fall back on. Even if only to remind us how important it is to act interested.