Monthly Archives: June 2021

Here is one of my favorite stories from the writings of the Desert Fathers.

A novice is worried because the monk that he sits next to during the late prayer keeps falling asleep. He asks an older monk what he should do.

The master’s response? See that the sleeping monk is comfortable. Do not disturb him.

Often, we conceive of a “conversion experience” as necessarily startling or shocking.  Many times, though, an experience of unexpected gentleness can be uniquely powerful and an enduring reason to believe.

Last week, our older son and I flew on an airplane. As we were about to take off, the pilot explained where on the trip we might experience turbulence and how to prepare ourselves.

This is an outstanding exercise for our personal and professional lives. Anticipating turbulence with loved ones, in counselling, and in spiritual direction can enable our artful response.

And yes, there is turbulence for which we cannot prepare. Knowing this, we can spend the time in silence, cultivating solitude and trust, so that we have the interior resources we need when a challenge arises.

Anticipating turbulence helps us respond instead of react when strain enters our lives.

The experience of being a first-year teacher is uniquely disorienting.

I find myself suddenly responsible for children at an age of which I have limited experience. I must attend compassionately to who they are and what they need even as they are unable to communicate this to me directly. I must, balancing empathy and assertiveness, consistently create the world of the class. And I must maintain this sense of consistency even as I integrate constant improvements to serve the students better. And I must do this every day.

For parents, too, a similar dynamic is always at play. Since my oldest child is always getting older, I am always a parent of a child of an age of which I have little direct experience. (Today is the first day I have parented a child of 4.65 years, for example.)

It is right to acknowledge the challenge of this dynamic. When we do, we are able, also, to see the possibility. We get to meet our child anew every day.

(This is the first of the Four Horsemen of Fixed Mindset, four mental stances that clip our potential, limit our intelligence, and stifle budding growth.) 

When faced with a setback, a challenge, or a bit of critical feedback, we occasionally collapse into ourselves declaring: “You’re right. I suck.” We fixate on the negative so thoroughly, we are scarcely able to see anything else. We over-identify with the experience of failure.

This represents a subtle form of hiding. If I am fundamentally incapable of addressing the challenge with flexibility and insight, I am off the hook!

This mental stance distorts reality and side steps the wisdom on offer. Namely, it:

1) Over-identifies with the negative moment, hardening the (untrue) narrative that we are bad and incapable.

2) Blinds us from the positive buds of growth that already exist in the situation.

Let’s watch out for “you’re right, I suck.” Seeing and naming it drains it of its power.

(This is the second of the Four Horsemen of Fixed Mindset, four mental stances that clip our potential, limit our intelligence, and stifle budding growth.) 

In this mental stance, when faced with constructive feedback or a setback, we become defiant. (I don’t deserve this! You’re wrong, world! I rule!)

This Horseman takes the legs out from under our curiosity. We avoid the questions that could lead to our growth. For example: What could I learn from this generous gift of feedback? What is the whole, complex picture of why I experienced that specific failure? How might I improve?

When we say, “I’m right. I rule. Full stop,” we wimp out. We dodge the uncomfortable but healthy questions that the situation at hand poses to us.

(This is the third of the Four Horsemen of Fixed Mindset, four mental stances that clip our potential, limit our intelligence, and stifle budding growth.) 

Here, when confronted by challenge, we absolve ourselves of responsibility by externalizing blame onto things outside of our control. “It’s her fault! It’s his fault! It’s their fault!” Blame an easy target and pretend that we do not have agency in the system.

This mindset has the air of validity because much of the world is absolutely outside of our control. Rather than fixating on “the rain,” though, it is much more productive to see the bits of agency we do have, acknowledge our role in the system, and step forward toward growth.

The outstanding teacher residency program where I coached teachers some years ago immersed the residents in the need for “growth mindset.”  Someone with a “growth mindset” believes that they can grow, that ability and intelligence can be developed.  Because of this belief, a person engages challenges and helpful criticism with sincere effort on a path to mastery.  

Its converse is “fixed mindset,” which believes that one’s traits are essentially fixed, and so effort is useless.  This mindset avoids challenges and truthful critique. It feels threatened when others thrive.

Fixed mindset is everywhere, in all of us, and quite tricky to talk about.  (No one wants to hear or acknowledge that they are stuck in such a narrative.)  So, the teaching program’s leadership wittily and decisively seared this concept into the minds of the residents by naming the “Four Horsemen of Fixed Mindset,” the four ways that this stunting mindset typically manifests.

They named the Four Horsemen as follows:

(1) You’re right. I suck.

(2) You’re wrong. I rule.

(3) Blame it on the rain.

(4) Optimist without a cause.

These conceptual hooks have been such a gift to me, that I wanted to share it with you.  I’ll write the next week’s posts about each of these manifestations.

Until then, here are the master teachers themselves acting out the Four Horsemen in the video they used to train the rookie teachers.  Enjoy… if you dare!