Four Seconds

I opened the email at 7:20.

It was early, before any staff or students had arrived.

The subject line was in block caps, and there were a couple dozen lines of text with no breaks.

I caught myself starting to read, like I was looking at my self from outside my body. I knew I should step away, take a deep breath, and compose myself for what I knew was going to need some emotional preparedness.

And yet I continued to read, standing up, coat still on. I could feel my blood rising. My eyes kept darting back to the worst line and rereading it. By the time I got to the end of the message, I already had a hasty reply drafted in my head.

Fortunately, I’ve learned not to trust that first draft.

My process aligns with a book I recently read, called Change Your Questions, Change Your Life, by Marilee G. Adams. Adams calls her process ABCC, for Aware, Breathe, Curious, and Choose. You can run through those four steps in about the time it takes to open a new email.

Aware

Step one is noticing things are starting to hit the fan. That’s the whole job: I’m in it right now.

I notice it showing up in my body before it shows up as a thought. My jaw tightens, and I find my shoulders up around my ears. I sometimes notice a tiny voice in the back of my head building a case, rehearsing what I’ll say to prove I’m right (and they’re wrong). I find myself judging, sorting people and situations into right and wrong.

Breathe

One deep breath makes a world of difference. Two or three is enough to put a pause on a situation.

I do this often before I compose a hard email, make a difficult phone call, or work with a student in the midst of a blowup. A nervous system under siege can’t think its way out of the threat. The body has to come first. Two or three slow inhale/exhales sends the signal to stand down.

Skip this step and the next two won’t have the intended positive outcome. You’ll ask a curious question in the same furious tone, and the person across the desk will react before you finish the sentence.

Curious

Now get curious: What’s going on for this parent right now? What do they need from me in the next five minutes?

This step is risky. It requires giving up the comfort of being right. Judging might feel good in the moment (but does it, really?). Curiosity feels vulnerable, exposed. You’re admitting there’s something you don’t know.

I’ve tried versions of that question quite a few times, with parents, staff, kids. It almost always changes how the conversation goes.

Choose

Pick the next move on purpose.

When I’m running on autopilot, when I’m fully annoyed, I default to defensiveness. For me, a fast choice isn’t always a good one. Take time to be intentional with your time, judgements, and the people around you.

The email is still sitting there a half hour later, as the buses start pulling in and a line starts forming outside my door. I’ll get to it, but I’m giving it at least four seconds.

Aware. Breathe. Curious. Choose.

Then I open the door.