Why It’s Imperative We All Learn To Be ‘Emotion Scientists’ | MindShift
Proof of our inability to deal constructively with our emotional lives is all around us. In 2015, in collaboration with the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation and Born This Way Foundation (founded by Lady Gaga and her mother, Cynthia Germanotta), we conducted a large-scale survey of twenty-two thousand teenagers from across the United States and asked them to describe how they feel while in school. Three- quarters of the words they used were negative, with “tired,” “bored,” and “stressed” topping the list. This wasn’t surprising given that around 30 percent of elementary and middle school students now experience adjustment problems severe enough to require regular counseling. In economically disadvantaged schools, this runs as high as 60 percent.
American youths now rank in the bottom quarter among developed nations in well- being and life satisfaction, according to a report by UNICEF. Research shows that our youths have stress levels that surpass those of adults. Our teenagers are now world leaders in violence, binge drinking, marijuana use, and obesity. More than half of college students experience overwhelming anxiety, and a third report intense depression. And over the last two decades, there has been a 28-percent increase in our suicide rate.
How clearly will kids think when they are feeling tired, bored, and stressed? How well do they absorb new information when they are anxious? Do they take their studies seriously? Do they feel inclined to express their curiosity and pursue learning?
Here’s a story that tells me a lot about the emotional atmosphere in schools.
The superintendent of a major metropolitan district was out making classroom visits. As she walked the halls with the principal, she saw a little girl headed to a classroom and greeted her, attempting to start up a conversation.
The girl refused to acknowledge her.
“She wouldn’t say hello to me,” the superintendent told me. After a moment of mutual confusion, the little girl put her head down and continued on her way. Apparently, students had been told they could walk only on the white line painted down the middle of the corridors. “Stepping over to talk to me would mean breaking the rules,” said the superintendent.
We’ll never know how that conversation might have gone. The natural instinct of both student and educator to engage with each other was squelched by the school’s demand for order above all else.
What can happen in a single exchange? A moment of small talk in a hallway? Probably very little. Although if you are like me, you have some memories from early childhood that stand out from the fog of years, that have endured over time for no other reason than that a grown-up made space in his or her life, for a moment, for you. A small thing like that, if it is heartfelt, can reverberate.
It’s not only students who feel oppressed. What about their teachers? In 2017, in collaboration with the New Teacher Center, we surveyed more than ﬁve thousand educators and found that they spend nearly 70 percent of their workdays feeling “frustrated,” “overwhelmed,” and “stressed.” This conforms with Gallup data showing that nearly half of U.S. teachers report high stress on a daily basis. A frightening snapshot of our educational system, wouldn’t you agree?
How eﬀective are our educators when they feel just as frustrated, overwhelmed, and stressed as the kids? Will they give 100 percent to their lessons? Do they snap at students unintentionally, or ignore their needs, because they are emotionally exhausted? Are they leaving work feeling burned out, dreading tomorrow’s return to the classroom?
If we don’t understand emotions and ﬁnd strategies to deal with them, they will take over our lives, as they did for me as a child. Fear and anxiety made it impossible for me to try to deal with my problems. I was paralyzed. The science now proves why. If there had been someone to teach me the skills – if there had been someone to even tell me there were such skills – I might have felt more in control of my situation. Instead, all I could do was endure it.
During presentations, I’ll often make the observation that many children today are in serious crisis mode. Usually this will prompt someone to ask a question that’s really more of an opinion: “Don’t you think these kids lack the toughness and moral ﬁber that people had generations ago?”
My response to this has matured over the years. Once, a statement like that would really rile me. It sounded like somebody looking for a reason to feel superior and blame the victims. Now I think it’s irresponsible.
Let’s suppose that children today do lack the emotional strength we, or some other generation, had in abundance. Let’s assume that in the past kids were just as challenged — maybe more — but they were able to buckle down and deal with it.
Would that mean we abdicate responsibility for doing our best to help today’s kids? If they do require a little help, isn’t it our job to give it to them, without judging? And if they need so much support, how did they end up that way? Did it have anything to do with how we raised them?
There was a time, not so long ago, that children did have a serious need that was not being met. Our national response was instructive. In 1945, while World War II was still raging, a general (and former teacher) named Lewis B. Hershey testiﬁed before Congress that almost half of all army draftees were turned away for reasons owing to poor nutrition. He was in a good position to know: Hershey was in charge of the Selective Service System. He saw the underfed and malnourished young American men and realized their unﬁtness for war.
Congress did not issue a proclamation condemning the fecklessness of the younger generation. It passed a bipartisan bill: the National School Lunch Act.
In other words, we fed our kids. It’s time to feed our kids again.
At the Yale Center for Emotional Intelligence, that’s all we think about: how we can help people to identify their emotions, understand the inﬂuence of their feelings on all aspects of their lives, and develop the skills to make sure they use their emotions in healthy, productive ways.
Once, after a talk to mental health professionals at a major hospital, the head of child psychiatry approached me. He said, “Marc, great job. But, you know, according to our data we’re going to need another eight thousand child psychiatrists to deal with the problems these kids will be having.”
I was stunned.
“You misunderstood me. I want to put you all out of business,” I said half-jokingly.
He was thinking that all those troubled children would need professional interventions in order to deal with their lives. I was saying that we need to remake education so that it includes emotion skills—so that professional interventions become less necessary.
It’s been nearly thirty years since the idea of emotional intelligence was introduced by my mentors, Peter Salovey, professor of psychology and current president of Yale University, and Jack Mayer, professor of psychology at the University of New Hampshire. It’s been a quarter century since Daniel Goleman published his bestselling book, Emotional Intelligence, which popularized the concept. And yet we’re still grappling with the most basic questions, such as “How are you feeling?”
Feelings are a form of information. They’re like news reports from inside our psyches, sending messages about what’s going on inside the unique person that is each of us in response to whatever internal or external events we’re experiencing. We need to access that information and then ﬁgure out what it’s telling us. That way we can make the most informed decisions.
That’s a major challenge. It’s not as though every emotion comes with a label telling us precisely what prompted it, and why, and what can be done to resolve it. Our thinking and behavior absolutely change in response to what we’re feeling. But we don’t always know why or how best to address our emotions. For parents, this might be a familiar scenario: we see a child who’s clearly suﬀering, and the reason isn’t apparent. Ask simply, “What’s wrong?” and the answer will almost never reveal the source of the anguish. Maybe the child doesn’t even know what’s wrong.
Here’s an example: Anger can sometimes seem unprovoked or inexplicable, but in almost every case it’s a response to what we perceive as unfair treatment. We’ve suﬀered an injustice of some kind, big or small, and it makes us mad. Someone cut in front of you in line— and you’re irritated. You were up for a promotion at work, but it went to the boss’s niece— and you’re outraged. But it’s the same basic dynamic at work.
Most of us don’t enjoy dealing with anger, whether it’s our own or someone else’s. When a parent or teacher is faced with what might appear to be an angry child, often the ﬁrst impulse is to threaten discipline—if you don’t stop yelling, or speaking rudely, or stamping your feet, you’ll go sit in the corner, or I’ll send you to your room, or you’ll lose your privileges!
When it’s an adult who’s angry, our response isn’t much diﬀerent. We immediately pull back. We stop listening sympathetically. We feel under attack, which makes it nearly impossible for us to deal with the information the person is conveying. But that anger was an important message. If we can try to mollify the injustice that sparked it, the anger will go away, because it’s outlived its usefulness. If not, it will fester, even if it seems to subside.
Thankfully, there’s a science to understanding emotion. It’s not just a matter of intuition, opinion, or gut instinct. We are not born with an innate talent for recognizing what we or anyone else is feeling and why. We all have to learn it. I had to learn it.
As with any science, there’s a process of discovery, a method of investigation. After three decades of research and practical experience, we at the Yale Center have identiﬁed the talents needed to become what we’ve termed an “emotion scientist.”
Here are the ﬁve skills we’ve identiﬁed. We need to
- recognize our own emotions and those of others, not just in the things we think, feel, and say but in facial expressions, body language, vocal tones, and other nonverbal signals.
- understand those feelings and determine their source— what experiences actually caused them— and then see how they’ve inﬂuenced our behaviors.
- label emotions with a nuanced vocabulary.
- express our feelings in accordance with cultural norms and social contexts in a way that tries to inform and invites empathy from the listener.
- regulate emotions, rather than letting them regulate us, by ﬁnding practical strategies for dealing with what we and other feel.
The rest of this book is devoted to teaching those skills and how to use them.
In the late 1990s, Uncle Marvin and I set out together to bring these skills to schools. We failed. We were prepared to deliver classroom instruction only to children. But some teachers were resistant. “Teaching kids about anxiety makes me nervous,” one said. “I’m not opening that Pandora’s box of talking about how these kids feel,” said another. If the teachers didn’t believe in the importance of these emotion skills, they’d never be eﬀective at instructing their students. So Marvin and I, along with new colleagues at Yale, went back to the drawing board. We saw that we would never reach children until we ﬁrst enlisted teachers who understood the importance of emotion skills. And soon after that we realized that only if there was commitment at the very top, at the school board, superintendent, and principal levels, could entire school systems be transformed.
Then it became clear that the skills must be even more widely shared. We adults all need to understand how our emotions inﬂuence us and everyone around us, not just schoolchildren. We need to develop the skills and be positive role models. Educators and parents have to demonstrate the ability to identify, discuss, and regulate their own emotions before they can teach the skills to others. Our classroom research shows that where there is an emotionally skilled teacher present, students disrupt less, focus more, and perform better academically. Our studies show that where there is an emotionally skilled principal, there are teachers who are less stressed and more satisﬁed. And where there is an emotionally skilled parent, there are children who have a greater ability to identify and regulate their emotions.
Once our children grow into emotionally skilled adults, the entire culture will change— for the better. But learning the skills and improving the way we respond to our feelings doesn’t mean we’ll suddenly become happy all the time. Perpetual happiness can’t be our goal— it’s just not how real life works. We need the ability to experience and express all emotions, to down- or up- regulate both pleasant and unpleasant emotions in order to achieve greater well- being, make the most informed decisions, build and maintain meaningful relationships, and realize our potential.
But that starts with all of us. If you’re a parent, ask yourself this: What are the qualities you most want your children to possess as they grow into adults? Is it math skills, scientiﬁc knowledge, athletic ability? Or is it conﬁdence, kindness, a sense of purpose, the wisdom to build healthy, lasting relationships? When we consult with corporations, they tell us they’re searching for employees who persevere with a task, who take personal responsibility for their work, who can get along with others and function as members of a team. Not technical abilities or specialized knowledge— they’re looking ﬁrst for emotional attributes. A colleague from the RAND Corporation told me that technology advances so rapidly today that companies don’t hire workers for their current skills— ﬁrms are looking for people who are ﬂexible, who can present new ideas, inspire cooperation in groups, manage and lead teams, and so on.
We may acquire some of those skills by osmosis—by watching and emulating others who possess them. But for the most part they must be taught. And they are best learned in communities. Emotion skills are both personal and mutual. They can be used privately, but their best application is throughout a community, so that a network emerges to reinforce its own inﬂuence. I have seen this happen— these skills are being deployed in thousands of schools all over the world, with dramatic results. The children beneﬁt, naturally: there is less bullying and emotional distress, better attendance, fewer suspensions, and greater academic achievement. But we have also seen that schools where these skills are taught have teachers with lower levels of stress and burnout, fewer intentions to leave the profession, greater job satisfaction, and more engaging classrooms.
We all want our lives, and the lives of the people we love, to be free of hardship and troubling events.
We can never make that happen.
We all want our lives to be ﬁlled with healthy relationships, compassion, and a sense of purpose.
That we can make happen.
Uncle Marvin showed me how. It starts with the permission to feel, the ﬁrst step of the process.