Discipline - by Darylynn Starr Rank
September, 2006

I was watching TV a while ago; well, not really watching, flicking channels, actually.  I ended up on a public television channel where a self-help educator was talking.  He was discussing an intervention in which he had participated. 

Now the word intervention has a very specific definition in this context, but the whole idea is really about trying to get someone to change their behaviour.  Something that comes up every single day (especially for parents).
 
I was interested in hearing what he had to say because I’ve dealt with a few people who have been part of interventions:  clients who were struggling with addicted loved ones, colleagues who participated in them.  But do they really work? (I have to admit that there’s always been a part of me that grimaced inside at the thought of them.)

The logic is easy to understand.  Perfectly clear.  Someone’s in trouble, doing something they need to stop doing, so everyone who cares about them tells them so, forcing them to listen. 

It’s common for these friends and family to focus on the impacts of the problem behaviour.  “You’re destroying yourself!”  “You’re going to destroy your life!”  “You’re destroying me!”  Or at the very least, “You’re breaking my heart!”  “You have to stop this terrible behaviour!”  “Please!”

When confronted with these painful truths, the problematic person will hopefully take to heart the pain he’s causing himself and the people he/she loves, and get some help.

But deep in my heart of hearts, I’ve always wondered how often the response to such devastating statements would be to get drunk, or stoned, or whatever the problem behaviour is, in an effort to dull the awfulness. 

But this television speaker described a different story.  He told  of an intervention in which everyone who cared about the “problem” person gathered around him and spent untold hours telling him everything wonderful about himself, right from the time he was born.  All the lovely aspects of his character, all the delightful things he’d ever said or done, all the loving acts and gestures he’d ever performed.  They told him every single thing about him they could remember that made them happy, or made them feel good, or they enjoyed.  Every gift and skill and talent he had.  Every time he’d made them laugh.

The fellow eventually broke down sobbing, holding and being held by everyone there, and from that moment onward, he began healing and changing his behaviour.

I teared up thinking about it.

If people are “misbehaving” whether they’re children or adults, it might just be worthwhile to consider a variety of other ways to respond to them.  Focusing only on punishing and blaming, and the awfulness of what they’ve done, aren’t the only ways to teach people different ways to behave.   (And often they don’t even work.)

Take care, all.

Darylynn Starr Rank (psychologist/writer) works part-time for Family Services of Greater Vancouver as a group facilitator. Her articles appear bi-weekly in The Record (New Westminster) and the Richmond Review.

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