Episode 10: Leona

A teacher turns a physical threat from a student into life-changing attachment.

Leona is a high school science teacher. She’s got some rough kids this year – as this story will show. And she’s dedicated to those kids – as this story will also show.

Leona has a student, let’s call him Drew, who is becoming attached to her. She can tell because he’s been paying more attention in class; he’s asking the occasional question; he’s making eye contact with her. Most importantly, he’s talking to her. Joking with her, sharing bits and pieces about his days, about his life.

His life? Not good. His days? Variable. Up and down. Mostly down.

This particular day, the day of Leona’s story, seemed to be off to a good start for Drew. Leona began class with a brief explanation and demonstration of the lab the group was going to do in pairs. When Leona was circulating around the room helping students to set up and settle down, Drew briefly connected with her. He told her that he had a doctor’s appointment later that afternoon in a nearby city “where,” Drew said, “bad things come out of.”

Leona redirected him.

Drew turned back to the lab table and focused on his work for about 10 minutes. Then he and his partner started goofing off. Leona called him on it, as is her wont. She has high expectations and, while she doesn’t hit students over the head with them, she is firm and direct.

“Drew,” she said. “Get back to work.”

“Make me!” Drew snapped back.

Leona, stunned by Drew’s rudeness and unsure what to do, walked away.

“Oh,” Drew called after her, “the teacher is walking away. The teacher is not doing her job.”

Leona kept on walking away, escaping to lab tables and students on the other side of the classroom.

So this was going to be a down day after all.

By the time Leona made her way back to Drew and his partner, all work at their lab table had stopped. The two were playing with the lab equipment, making snarky jokes, doing their best to distract each other and any other students who could be lured into their vortex.

Leona called Drew out into the hall for a talk.

Drew followed her willingly and then escalated at lightning speed. Leona didn’t remember much of what he said. What she did remember was highly agitated energy. She remembered that he called her a bitch. And she remembered that he threatened her. “If you don’t get out of my way,” he said, “you’ll be sorry you didn’t.”

Leona told Drew to go immediately to the school counselor’s office. And she got out of his way.

[break]

I have to say, just telling this story makes me tense. It just crackles with energy, for me at least.

I’m sure that’s how it felt for Leona, too. And undoubtedly for Drew. Leona’s responses to this energy make complete sense. First, she avoided it. Walked away and stayed away as long as she could. Then, in the hallway, when Drew threw it right into her face and avoidance was impossible, she banished it. Sent it away. “Go to the counselor’s office,” she said.

And Drew did. Thank god.

I’m interested in thinking about Drew’s energy as a form of information. That Leona picked up on but didn’t necessarily address as such. That is, she didn’t address the energetic information – that Drew was crackling, that he was anxious – until he packaged that information in a more familiar form: words. A threat.

In my world, I divide these forms of information into two levels or layers: the content layer – that is, words, ideas, texts – and the emotional layer. The content layer is the one teachers tend to prioritize. This makes sense, of course, because it is their job to deliver content and facilitate their students’ learning of that content.

But the emotional layer, what I call the bedrock, is also really important.

Let’s rewind this story and go at it again from the standpoint of content and emotional bedrock.

Drew’s attempt at connection at the beginning of the period was actually a lovely combination of the two: content – “I’ve got a doctor’s appointment” – and emotional bedrock – “in a city where bad things come out of.” It’s not hard to hear, in retrospect, that he was conveying emotional information here: his anxiety about going to this city. Not sure why he was anxious, but it’s undeniably there.

Understandably, and typically, as I’ve said, Leona attended to the content. Drew shared an irrelevant detail about his life at a time when she didn’t have the bandwidth to take it up. So she redirected him. If he’d asked or said something about the lab, she would have responded appropriately, of course. But this trip to the city was not something she could address right then.

Evidently, it was what Drew needed Leona to address, though. Not because she owed him anything. Not because he was being entitled or demanding. He needed her to address his emotional bedrock because he was so anxious (for whatever reason) and he had come to rely on Leona as a comforting attachment figure. He needed her to feel his anxiety and help him with it. So the content really didn’t matter to Drew. The emotional bedrock did.

Bind. Leona’s need to stay focused on her curricular agenda – on the content – was completely correct. And Drew’s attachment to Leona, his hope that she could help him, was also completely correct. And they were goals that were completely opposed to each other.

Leona went with her teacherly instincts and redirected Drew. To his credit, Drew was able to manage his disappointment – or to suppress it – for about 10 minutes. I take this as a testament to his trust of and respect for Leona. But emotions will out. Drew started goofing off, discharging his anxious energy, sending the emotional message – unconsciously – once again. Giving Leona a second chance.

But Leona would have none of it. She was not interested in the emotional bedrock. She was on a roll, keeping the lab going, keeping the students organized, and probably thinking she should be able to expect Drew to continue focusing the way he had for the past 10 minutes. Clearly all he needed was a quick rebuke.

Which it almost seems like he was waiting for. His hostile rejoinder – “Make me!” – shot his emotions right at Leona. And did she ever absorb them. Her shock was emotional – Drew took her totally by surprise – and, actually, physical – she walked away. She couldn’t help it. It was as if Drew had shoved her. (Which in effect he had. With his words and with his emotion.)

OK now Leona was getting the message, the information Drew wanted her to get. (May I emphasize here?: Drew was not conscious of any of this, I’m sure. He was simply doing what he had to do, what felt right to him, what his internal state – his extreme anxiety – impelled him to do. No blame here. Just curiosity. From a safe distance.)

The problem with Drew’s delivery was that, while he definitely made Leona feel the anxiety he felt, he also alienated her. He made it extremely unlikely that Leona would be willing or able to attend to his emotional bedrock.

Things get a little complicated here, because the way I see it, Drew’s behavior did a double whammy. Not only did he incite in Leona the anxiety he himself felt, but he also guaranteed that his need for emotional connection and support would not be satisfied. Why would he do that? Because, I’m guessing, it’s what he expected from adults: that they would not see or hear him accurately, that they would disappoint him when he needed them. That they would “walk away”; that they would “not do their job”; that they would abandon him.

This is, of course, just a guess. But people do this all the time. In moments of stress, we fall back on our expectations of the world and behave, unconsciously, in ways that fulfill those expectations. Especially with attachment figures. Since it is our original attachment figures who taught us these expectations in the first place.

So, again as I see it, Drew’s actions made sense.

But they were a disaster for this teacher-student relationship. Uhh. Do-you-see-what-I-see? Student sends out tentative tendrils of trust to a teacher who looks like a worthy attachment figure. Teacher misses the message. Student, out of disappointment and very likely an expectation that the teacher actually despises him, sends the contempt he fears the teacher feels for him back at the teacher. Teacher feels anxious and repelled; their connection is broken.

Sound complicated? Welcome to the world of relationships.

OK so the dénouement is escalation. Leona is alienated by Drew’s initial rudeness; Drew increases his disruptive behavior in the lab (he’s not giving up on her, though by now Drew’s emotional bedrock is – just a guess – crusted over with disappointment, fear, and rage, which make relational repair extremely difficult) (and which, by the way, can serve as great distractions from underlying anxiety about going to the city). So Drew increases his disruptive behavior (still in the classroom), drawing Leona back to him; Leona has to intervene. She calls him into the hallway.

At which point Drew goes completely uncontained. He’s all electric energy; he’s abusive; he puts into words what he himself (again, just a guess) feels: threat.

And, probably not unexpected to him, he gets sent away. Just as he effectively sent Leona away. Round and round. New behaviors are tested; disappointment is experienced; old behaviors get activated; dysfunctional expectations and negative self-beliefs get played out again and reinforced again. And again and again.

[break]

From the safety of my little office, I find this interaction super interesting. Of course, I am very glad that Leona protected herself from a threatening, angry young man. That was top priority. It always is. But I’m also really glad Leona brought this incident up in our coaching session.

Because, from the safety of my little office, we were able to get curious about this incident and what Drew mighthave been communicating to his teacher. We took the developmental point of view that I just laid out – that is, the point of view that Drew is attached to Leona and was hoping to use her as an emotional and relational developmental partner, not just as a content-catching baseball mitt. This made a lot of sense to Leona. We also talked about what she could do the next time she saw Drew.

In a nutshell, I suggested Leona meet with Drew and share her (our) guesses about what his behaviors might have meant. Something like this:

“Drew, we had a tough interaction recently, as you know. I just want to say: I think I missed an important message from you that day. I think you were feeling pretty anxious about your upcoming trip to the city, and I didn’t pick up on it. I wish I had.

“That said, your behavior was – right? – inappropriate. It can’t happen again. What about this? When I’ve missed the boat with you, you give me a heads up that I recognize. Like a hand signal. Or something like ‘Ah, Ms. L? Can I talk to you?’ Or something else. What can you imagine doing or saying to let me know I need to listen differently to you?”

Leona reported that she didn’t see Drew for a few days after that incident. She’d had to call in a sub for his class. Not surprisingly, Drew was, as Leona put it, “SUPER defiant to the sub and got in trouble.” My guess? He needed relief; he needed repair. He needed Leona.

The first day Leona was back in the classroom, she said, Drew “had his hands up swinging, trying to act angry.” She greeted the entire class with humor and enthusiasm; she was genuinely happy to see them, including Drew. Leona told me that Drew “felt left out and jumped in on the need to interact with me.” 

Time out.

What an interesting interpretation! What Leona saw was Drew doing some clamoring, being loud, being a little aggressive, “trying to act angry,” as she described it. But she didn’t interpret his behavior as threatening or out of line. Do-you-hear-what-I-hear? Leona interpreted Drew’s behavior as affiliative, as aimed at connection. She recognized in no uncertain terms that Drew “needed to interact with me.” Her interpretation was both detached – she was able to see what Drew was doing – and connected – she could embrace his need to “interact with her.”

Brilliant. Crucial. Very different from how Leona could have interpreted Drew’s behavior. Right? She could have interpreted him as aggressive and threatening. And sent him away once again. And deepened the relational pattern, deepened Drew’s expectation of being unseen, misunderstood, abandoned. Leading to more acting out. Pipeline to prison. Not. Good. In fact. Very. Bad.

Back to Leona’s class: Her plan was to have one-on-one conferences with students about their lab reports. They needed the conferences, but Leona also wanted to have a chance to meet with Drew alone without singling him out.

At first, she told me, Drew was “angry and defensive.” Of course! He had every reason to expect Leona to chastise him. He had, after all, behaved badly. I daresay Drew had already decided that this relationship was over. He might still have wanted Leona’s attention, but why would he expect her to ever respond positively to him again?

As Leona proceeded with her plan – which was, in her words, “a lot of me saying, ‘What I think happened is this’” – Drew, Leona said, “eased in quick with a smile.” They agreed on their separate yet intertwined roles – that it was Leona’s job to let Drew know “that he was not acting OK” and it was his job to communicate with Leona if he needed a break or was feeling angry or disconnected. Amazingly, in the midst of this honest conversation, Drew shared that the anxiety-producing trip to the city for a doctor’s appointment was turning out positively. And Leona was able to convey her caring commitment to and interest in him despite his terrible behavior.

This is the essence of effective repair: when the developmental partner draws an appropriate line, survives destructive pushback, and circles back with understanding, care, and honesty. Exactly what Drew needed. Frankly, it’s what Leona needed, too. Cuz she really did care about Drew! She really did want to be connected to Drew! Win-win.

But the story doesn’t end here.

A couple months later, Leona had to cut down on her teaching load for her own medical reasons. Drew’s class was one of the two she had to drop. When she made this announcement to her students, she told me, she cried.

She told her students that she would meet individually with each of them. The first student she met with was Drew. Here’s what Leona told him:

“Of all the students in this class, you’re the one I’m most worried about. I know you’re afraid of abandonment, and this feels like I’m abandoning you. But I’m not going anywhere.”

Drew, Leona said, “lost it. He cried and sobbed and snotted.” Leona cried, too. Then she reviewed for Drew how much he had grown in the area of self-regulation over the past couple of months and told him that, if he started having any trouble at all, to “come find me.”

[break]

I’ll be honest. As I’ve been telling this story, I’ve been thinking, repeatedly, “My dear listeners are going to tire of all this psycho-babble. They’re going to think, ‘Really?! You’re reading way too much into this terrible boy’s actions!’”

But here’s why this story is so awesome, why I love it so much: I was right. Actually, that’s not quite accurate. I love this story so much because it confirms my deepest and most cherished beliefs: That emotion work can attune relationships, and that attuned relationships can change people’s lives for the way way better.

Put another way: Drew matters. And he knew what he needed (even if unconsciously). He needed an adult to see him – in his need and in his frustration and fear and acting out – and still care about him. And he chose well. Leona was that adult.

I. LOVE. THIS.

So my psycho-babble was correct: Drew was attached to Leona. He was communicating with her. She did miss the boat. Their relationship was teetering on the brink.

But Leona’s willingness to think differently about her experience with Drew, about the emotional bedrock of his frightening threat, and her ability to put this thinking into action, pulled their relationship back from the precipice. And, by George, strengthened it. How do I know? How can I be so sure of the strength of the relationship between Drew and Leona even after Drew’s horrific aggression towards her?

Here’s how I know: the snot.

Need I say more?

Well, as always, I do need to say a little bit more. That last meeting between Leona and Drew showed at least three things. First, that Leona mattered to Drew. That their relationship was transformative for him. Second, that Leona’s guess – that Drew was going to feel abandoned by her – was spot on. And, because it was so spot on, it was a gushing relief for Drew. To be seen so accurately and loved so obviously in spite of his vulnerability. Wow.

And, third, that this loss, his losing Leona as his teacher, was very likely going to be different for him. That it wasn’t going to feel like abandonment, as he had come to expect from important adults. That it would be something else. Ongoing useful attachment, maybe. Survivable sadness, maybe. Flexible, reliable connection, maybe. In any case, his experience of loss wrapped up in an ongoing, if changed, relationship with Leona might be an emotional corrective for him. Possibly setting the stage for growing and maturing that Drew could not have done otherwise.

That’s the power of attending to the emotional bedrock.

And there’s our axiom for today: Attend to the emotional bedrock. And its corollary: Beware the seduction of content! Paying exclusive attention to what people say as if it’s the gospel truth can distract so effectively. Making time to wonder what the purpose of the words is, what the underlying need is, can aim us directly to the very heart of the bull’s eye.

And to sobbing and snotting. Genuine, heartfelt, soul-shaking emotion. Relief. Gratitude. Sadness. Care. Connection. The loamy soil out of which growth, development, learning, and change emerge like beautiful little sprouts.

What else are we on this planet for?