Applying the science of Well Being to Schools

 Kelly was angry and mean—and showed it by starting vicious rumors about the other girls. She was attractive and bright, so the boys paid a lot of attention. The other girls hated her and she loved it—resentment, revenge and recrimination had become her three R's, especially since her high school was now Parker Academy a small private school that focused on bright students with learning differences. She thought the new school was too small with only fifty kids, and she knew they all were weird.  Obviously, her parents and teachers were picking on her again. "I'm mean and people hate me.  I'll get out of here one way or the other."  But, this article is not just about Kelly. It’s about applying IPNB along with positive psychology in schools. To do that, we must begin at the beginning, which is to provide a context for the students enrolled in Parker Academy.

Many private schools or alternative programs will have a large percent of its population, like Kelly, who do not fit into regular public school education. This means that each student has had numerous negative school experiences prior to coming to the private school.  While each story is different, the negative emotional tone will be the same. I have found it useful to have a working hypothesis that each student has developed a negative "state of mind" (Siegel, 1999) regarding school. While those of us who have been fortunate enough to study IPNB may find the neurobiological meaning of "state of mind" fairly clear, it can be difficult to teach to parents and staff in a way they find useful.  In the course of many IPNB-based school consultations, I have found there is often a tension between remaining accurate to the research results, while also offering information that is understandable for parents, students and teachers. Time is usually limited and it is impossible to fully explain many of the IPNB concepts to a group of parents or staff in a short meeting.

In the first months of this school year, there was a series of such meetings, first with staff, then with small subgroups of the parents. In each meeting I had only two hours to teach IPNB, so I choose only two concepts: neural nets (central to the idea of state of mind) and the hand model (core to understanding how the teenage brain works) (Siegel & Hartzell, 2003). I hoped to build our interpersonal system by developing a common conceptual vocabulary that would be useful throughout the school year.

For example, in the first parent meeting I described neural nets, using Hebb’s axiom—“What fires together, wires together”—to help them understand how repeated experience engrains a state of mind, held in place by these firmly associated neural firings.  By way of concrete example, I explained how their child had probably developed a "school sucks neural net" during the years prior to coming to Parker Academy.  The nods and smiles from the parents showed they understood quite well.  

Everyone grasped the "school sucks neural net" concept quickly; because it combined something they knew (their child's bad attitude toward school) with a simple but accurate explanation of something new (neural nets keep firing the same way unless conditions change).  Involving Hebb's axiom gave the idea scientific weight, and also helped the parents understand why it would be hard to change the neural net after 8, 9, or 10 years of negative school experiences wiring "school sucks" into their students' brains.  Empathy for their kids’ plight increased, and the corollary that what has been wired can be rewired (neural plasticity) also gave hope for change.

As a result, parents and staff began to shift their understanding and response to their students. The questions changed from the typical "Why does my child hate school?" Or the resigned acceptance that "all kids hate school," to the much more helpful problem-solving stance—“How do we help my child develop alternative neural nets?"

This led to a rousing discussion about just how much change is possible (a lot) and what components are most necessary to create a climate for neural change.  They immediately understood that if familiar experiences reinforce the old neural nets, then new experiences will create alternative pathways.  In addition, we discussed how greater emotional intensity (arousal) strengthens the neural nets being wired in, creating memories with greater meaning and longevity (Siegel, 1999).  These simple ideas created a shared vocabulary and an approach that lasted for the school year.

This helped us easily discuss why Parker Academy does things differently than other schools on purpose.  For example, some parents want to know why the students are allowed to use first names with staff.  In line with changing neural nets, this practice is a daily reminder that this school is different from their previous schools, perhaps slightly nudging the students out of their habitual negative perception of all things related to school.  A more complex question might be about the school’s “portfolio meetings,” in which students reflect on their personal/academic growth in the presence of parents and teachers.  These emotionally charged meetings purposefully raise the emotional arousal of students as they describe their positive progress, with the intensity of the emotions helping to create more robust neural nets filled with the pride of accomplishment.

Not surprisingly, I also found that teachers, administrators and psychologists (i.e., me) have neural nets with their resulting states of mind that while comfortable were also limiting. My consultation with Parker Academy began during the previous year as the school's "resident psychologist/expert." The structure was typical and comfortable for me: teachers asked for advice about particular difficult students or situations; I gave it, usually at the weekly staff meeting. I have been in this expert role with different schools for nearly thirty years and met with a good deal of success. From an IPNB perspective, my neural net was deeply engrained, as was the teachers’ and administrators’. This familiar and comfortable state of mind limited my impact to only one-by-one problem solving. In addition, teachers usually view an expert with suspicion. All our states of mind needed to change for me to increase my effectiveness. One-by-one problem solving is not an efficient way to have an impact on the whole organization and suspicion undermines everything.

IPNB helped me to find two possible ways to change our neural nets: First, by offering solid useful help on the one-by-one problems. This slow and steady approach establishes credibility and my own confidence. The successful problem solving lowers suspicion, and can have an unexpected broad impact as the principles of IPNB and positive psychology creep through the school.  For the sake of the interpersonal system, it may be helpful to talk a bit—and just a bit—about how you applied IPNB when you were in the trenches, especially if you have stories of bad situations turning around. The second approach is to solve one dramatic problem. The emotion that surrounds a dramatic situation and its solution instantly establishes credibility while cementing in hope.

At Parker Academy, it was the one-by-one problem solving that gradually built my credibility. The difficulties teachers brought to the staff meetings were usually addressed by using IPNB concepts.  The "sprinkler story" from the last issue of Connections & Reflections (Premier Edition, Spring 2006) is an example.  It was used in a one-to-one problem-solving discussion between a student and the principal.  Because the idea of the prefrontal connecting when she was calm and disconnecting when she was under stress made sense to that student, she adopted the “hand model” (Siegel & Harzell, 2003).  Now, through the lovely contagion of felt truth, "sprinkler kid" is a term some staff use (while opening and closing their fists) to describe other students who quickly lose emotional control.  With this concept under their belts, they are much more likely to stay in an empathic place with these kids.

A second and complementary aspect of my consultation with schools involves Positive Psychology integrated with IPNB. Positive Psychology is probably best described in Martin Seligman's Authentic Happiness (2002). The book suggests several exercises to promote life satisfaction.  Since its publication, some of these proven effective in field tests (Keyes & Haidt, 2003). One of these transforming exercises is the "Me at My Best Story.” The assignment is deceptively simple: write a one-page short story describing a time when you were at your best.  The story should have a beginning and a middle—and end with a bang.  This sounds like a simple assignment, until you try to write it. It forces you to think about yourself positively.  In other words, it might help develop an alternative neural net for a certain female student who believes she is mean.

Kelly’s vicious rumors and negativity were having a strong detrimental impact on the school's peer culture, while the staff and I were trying to work positive values into peer interactions.  Consequently, she found herself in “isolation,” being taught one-on-one during the school day without contact with the other students.  The school’s owner and the principal told me that this approach has proven helpful for some students, partly because it offers an opportunity for self-reflection. They wanted something more than the usual "think about what you have done and apologize", they wanted Kelly to have the chance for some real in-depth self-reflection. My credibility had been established enough for them to trust me to develop something for Kelly and other students in “isolation”.

To initiate a neurally-based change in Kelly’s state of mind, I suggested we should try the "Me at My Best Story." Her story (with minimal changes for anonymity) follows.  As you read it, you will be able to see (and feel) first the initial development her "kindness neural net” then its reawakening.

"Ever since I was thirteen I have been living a lie. Being someone I am really not. Although I sometimes don't realize it, I can be malicious, vindictive, and manipulative to others, and as the days pass I become more and more like this. As I sit here and actually think about it I feel so disgusted with myself.  How could I be this mean? What happened to the little girl who loved being nice and helpful to others without thinking there would be something in return?

“When I was six years old I was a second grader...  [The school] had this thing called "warm fuzzies." What this was, was a little certificate that you would receive if you did something helpful.  After you collected so many you would turn them in for a prize or a lunch with a teacher.

 “...As my second grade year was winding down my niceness was becoming easier and easier and pretty soon I didn't care if I received a warm fuzzy. I was so delighted that I was just being nice.

“At the end of the year [they had a contest] to guess how many warm fuzzies were collected.... For me I didn't think there should be a winner. If every other kid experienced the feeling that I got when I did something nice then their would be no need for this warm fuzzy thing. Then they announced [the winner] "Kelly _____" Everyone in my class started cheering and jumping up and down. I just sat there. I think I was more angrier than I was happy. I didn't deserve a prize for being nice. That's the way you should be all the time.

“...As I sit here and write this I realize that, that feeling is priceless and the only way I am going to get that feeling back is by being nice, and when I am truly nice (not just to front) I am myself. This is who I want to be—not the nice little girl, but the nice grown-up Kelly who doesn't manipulate people and that is mean and nasty. I am now going to step outside the box I was hiding in and face reality, but at the same time be the Kelly I was if not stronger and nicer, it is such a better feeling than being negative all the time."

Kelly had just completed her first draft (quoted above) and the principal took it from the printer on his way to the staff meeting. He began reading it while he drove between buildings, but had to pull over because his tears made it hard to drive. When he read Kelly's story at the meeting, there were tears and amazement.

We decided to expand the story's impact, and give Kelly a chance to practice her kindness (i.e., strengthen her reawakened "kindness neural net"). In an attempt to add even more emotional impact (i.e., try to further strengthen the neural net), we had Kelly watch the movie Pay it Forward. In addition, the principal gave Kelly and the other two students now in "isolation" an assignment to plan a random act of kindness.  They surprised all of us by deciding to pool their own money to buy and deliver coffee and donuts to the road crews working outside in the cold and snowy New Hampshire winter.  Needless to say, the road crews were very grateful. Dan Siegel has said it simply, “inspire to rewire.” The gratefulness of the road crews inspired the students to rewire their “kindness neural nets,” and the surprising actions of the students inspired all of us to expand the impact to the whole school. I suggested to the staff that all students write a story, but that we begin with ourselves, because the assignment was not as easy as it seemed.  

We had Kelly return to the main classroom building and introduce Pay it Forward for the whole school to view.  In small groups, the other students planned random acts of kindness as well.  We did this in the hopes of developing each students “kindness neural net” and hopefully a school culture that supported interpersonal kindness. Kelly then talked to each English class about her experience and introduced the school-wide "Me at My Best" assignment.  Creating these stories was a monumental struggle for some students (and staff). Most were not accustomed to writing about something good in themselves.  Also, the learning differences of some students made the act of writing difficult, instead they told their stories to teachers who acted as a scribes. It can be very useful to use approaches other than writing for this assignment. For example, in one group I asked students to draw their experience and then talked about it.

Wandering between classes during the month-long process of the assignment, I could picture the neurons firing in new patterns, within each writer and in the interpersonal system as well. Integration was in the air.  Copies of all the staff and student stories were given to the school secretary for a central file.  During some of the monthly parent meetings, we would read a story or two, which had an enormous positive impact on parents. Some admitted seeing a different side of their own children (i.e., maybe beginning a change in the parent's habitual neural firing patterns).

Last week was the school's "Night of the Arts" when students show off their visual art, music, and poetry to parents and other community members. Many of the stories (without names) hung on a bulletin board, and I watched as tearful parents read story after story.  The impact of Kelly envisioning herself in a positive way had truly spread to the neural nets of all of us.

As I write this, graduation is a few weeks in the future. One of the traditions is that each graduating senior makes a speech about their own personal growth during their time at the school.  I'm looking forward to all of the speeches, especially Kelly's.

Keyes, C. L. M. and Haidt, J. (eds.) (2003) Flourishing: Positive psychology and the life well lived. Washington, DC: American Psychological Association.

Seligman, M. E. P (2002). Authentic happiness.  New York: Free Press.
Siegel, D. J. (1999).   The developing mind: How relationships and the brain interact to shape who we are.   New York:  Guilford Press
Siegel, D. J. and Hartzell, M. (2003).  Parenting from the inside out:  How a deeper self-understanding can help you raise children who thrive.  New York:  Jeremy P. Tarcher/Putnam.