Getting in Touch with me Directly

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Is there a good email or preferred way to reach you directly?

laird@ic.org

The Art of the Report

Early in my 35-year career as a group dynamics professional, I became aware that most people only digest and retain about 20% of what happens when I work with them. Ugh.

I believe there are many reasons for this:

—There's typically a lot going on, and it's easy to drop stitches. 

—The tendency to be so self-absorbed (how does this impact me?) that they miss the bigger picture. 

—A lot of folks aren't that good at listening. 

—Being too embarrassed to admit when you're confused, and thus failing to ask questions to better understand. 

—Not being open to new ideas (because you're so invested in the old ones—even when they're demonstrably not working).

As a consequence of this insight, I developed the habit of writing an after action report, in which I carefully go over what happened while I was with them, plus what I observed and what I recommend going forward. Even though there is often little that's new in these reports (from what the group was given orally while I was with them), a good report can significantly enhance what the group can make use of.

OK, so what constitutes a "good report"? Good question.

While not a court transcript, it should, I believe, cover the flow and sequence of the conversation, and succinctly identify the themes, conclusions, and next steps that emerge from each segment of the work. It should incorporate reflections about the energy in the room, not just the ideas. It should also capture unfinished business which either surfaced tangentially, or for which there wasn't time to address.

Writing a thorough report takes me about as much time as the meeting itself. Why so long? Partly because many people won't read a longer report and it can take me a while to boil down my comments to what I consider essential. (There is a quote attributable to Mark Twain that applies here: I apologize for such a long letter—I didn't have time to write a short one.)

In my experience, concision—making one's point clearly, yet with an economy of words—is often the last skill learned among speakers and writers.

All of that said, there are a few other things I try to include in group reports:

• Any insights into the dynamics of that particular group that went unnamed while I was present. This may mean looking more deeply into what I noticed happening, or illuminating the awkward interplay of multiple activities that are not in and of themselves problematic.

• An analysis of why certain practices can lead to deleterious consequences, and offering specific advice about how to accomplish the same result with a different approach that's less freighted with danger.

• When offering critical feedback I try hard to be specific and direct (notice when X said this and Y responded in this way, leading to this misunderstanding or that degree of reactivity).

• When groups are doing well, I make an effort to celebrate their strengths as well as the ways in which they might improve. (All sulphur and no molasses makes for a mean diet.)

The Essential Ingredients to Excellent Reportage

1. Careful observation. Hidden in this criterion is the need for a large degree of free attention, so that you don't miss subtleties.

2. Good notes (don't expect to hold everything in your head).

3. The capacity to shift perspectives and see what's happening through the eyes of the various players. Actual evil, by which I mean intentional mischief or harm, is much rarer than is supposed—in general, people intend well, and it's your job as reporter to frame your comments in such a way that good intentions are honored, while not neglecting to illuminate concerns. It's an art.

3. The ability to write clearly (which, sadly, is less common than one would hope). 

4. Timeliness (I have a personal standard of trying to complete reports within two weeks of finishing an in-person stint).

While not rocket science, neither is good reportage accidental. It's a discipline, and well worth cultivating if you want to be effective in the world.

A final word: please don't let my laundry list of how to author good reports overwhelm you from trying (since I can't imagine ever getting that good, why try?). Any reporting can be worthwhile, so long is it's an accurate reflection of what you observed, and delivered in a compassionate and even-handed voice.

The Dynamics When Someone Gets Upset and Walks Out of a Meeting

Working with a group of nascent facilitators last month, the question came up: What do you do when someone leaves a unfinished meeting in distress, triggered by something that happened inthe room (not because they suddenly remembered they have to pick up their kid from cello practice)?

While it's not something you want to have happen, most of us have experienced it—especially if you've been living in intentional community for any length of time, and it feels yucky. It feels like a failure.  

[One of my mentors, Caroline Estes, use to say that if you're not thinking about leaving the group at least once every three months, you're either ducking the hard stuff, or you're not paying attention. The idea is that reactivity is to be expected when you engage on issues that matter and about which people disagree, and this may cause you to be fed up with people's stubbornness (attachment to getting their way), or it may cause you to question whether you are in the right group.]

In any event, I want to tackle this apple in three bites:

Bite I: Missing or Ignoring the Signs

Version A: If someone goes from placid to postal in a matter of seconds, it almost certainly indicates that they came into the meeting already amped up about an unresolved dynamic, which or may not be related to the topic at hand (sometimes the tension is with an individual or with a committee, and just hearing them speak sets the person off). Or it may be that they have built-up frustration with how the group has handled the topic under discussion and they are now on a hair trigger. In any event, it's rare that no one is aware that this person (let's call them Person D) is churning about something. 

Version B: In this scenario, the reactivity builds over the course of the meeting until it boils over, and Person D leaves, usually in anger or in tears. Their circuits are overloaded, they are unable to take in any more information, and they may be afraid they'll say or do something from frustration that they'll regret later. Having no confidence in the group's willingness or ability to work with their upset, they depart the scene.

In both versions, I'm wondering about the group's commitment to working emotionally, or its ability to do so effectively. To be sure, this is not a minor deal—agreeing to work with emotions—nor is it a trivial skill to do with sensitivity and neutrality, yet I believe both elements are essential to creating high-functioning cooperative groups. And really, do we have a choice? People are not just thinking animals, we are feeling animals as well. It's a package deal. 

While some in the group are likely to be more emotionally (or relationally) oriented, while others are more rationally (or idea) oriented, it goes with the territory that both will be present whenever groups gather, and I've come to the view that it works much better if you acknowledge that, and learn to work both sides of the street—instead of holding onto the ridiculous notion that feelings have no place in meetings (which comes directly from a mainstream culture that tries to do just that, and pays an enormous price in terms of alienation, and dissipated energy)—as if using only one of your tools is better than using more of them.

(Please understand that I am not saying that strong feelings are in play with every topic, yet neither will they be rare.)

When there is no agreement to engage emotionally, people learn to try to quash their feelings (rather than suffer the group's disapproval over their "loss of control") or to not speak up when they notice that others seem to be struggling (due to lack of agency). Not only do you lose the attention of the person in distress, but those noticing the person going into distress will be distracted by their rising reactivity, wondering what it means, and whether there might be an eruption. Very distracting, and very messy.

For information about how effective emotional engagement might look, reference these blog entries:

Questions About Working with Emotions in Group

Key Facilitation Skills: Working Constructively with Emotions

Bite II: OK, So We Didn't Catch it Before it Happened—Now What?

Regardless of what opportunities to work with the tensions were missed before person D walks (or storms) out of the meeting, what are your options once they have?

It's been my experience that people in high distress generally feel isolated and don't trust that they have been understood, or even that others want to know what's going on for them. With that in mind, I believe that the first step in compassionate deescalation is to reach out to the disaffected person in an attempt to show them you care—both about them and their views.

How do you do that? By inviting Person D to tell you what happened for them, expressly including the feelings, and what the meaning is for them of their reaction. If some of that has already happened (perhaps before the walkout), then the person engaging with Person D can start with an attempted reflection of both their views and their feelings, staying with it until Person D reports that they feel heard. This should always be deescalating—because you are contradicting the isolation, and everyone likes to be understood and cared about.

Note that I am not saying you need to agree with them. Nor should you promise that Person D will get their way or have their views weighted more seriously by virtue of having gotten upset.

If you are facilitating alone, and there is no one suitable or willing to be the group's ambassador to Person D, you must decide whether to postpone reaching out to them until after the meeting, or call a break during which you attempt this in the moment. This can be a tough call.

If you decide to do it afterwards, you can handle this yourself. Be aware though, that in staying with the meeting, that it may well make more sense to suspend what you had been doing right before the walkout to hear people's reactions to Person D's departure, and perhaps what led up to it. In serious cases, this could be the remainder of the meeting. What's more, you should be prepared to offer Persom D a summary of what was said about them after they left the meeting.

If you decide Person D's departure is better addressed immediately, you have a number of options, including:

• If you are team facilitating, one of your number can seek out Person D while others continue the meeting.

• If that's not available, you might ask someone from your Conflict Resolution Team to step up—if such exists.

• Finally, you might ask for a volunteer to do so (while the meeting continues under your facilitation), if you think there are people in the group who have a sense of how to do this with compassion and sensitivity.

Bite III. Impact on the Group

—If you don't engage with Person D's emotions

In my view, attempting to pick up the meeting again at the point of interruption, and acting as if the eruption didn't happen, is a highly questionable choice. Not only will it be hard to do (at the very least, people will need a moment or two to stand and shake out the adrenaline), but some will almost certainly have their attention on processing what happened, rather than on the meeting agenda, which will significantly complicate doing good work.

By "engaging with Person D's emotions" I do not mean judging them for being upset, or even for walking out. I mean sharing reactions to what happened, what people understood about Person D's experience, and how the group might have handled it better.

—If you attempt to engage with Person D's feelings but they jump ship anyway

Even if you are persuaded by my argument for trying to understand what's going on for someone when they're triggered, there's no guarantee that the attempt will succeed in reestablishing a connection. Person D may remain upset, and leave the room in frustration. In fact, done poorly, you may make things worse. Which is undoubtedly why it's so popular to not attempt it. 

Going the other way, however, there's opportunity for making things much better. Knowing that, I encourage all facilitators to try to develop their capacity to work with feelings (as well as ideas), and to live in the place of hope, possibility, and courage.