It’s Good to See You
My son graduated high school this week, and I've found myself doing a lot of reflecting. At the ceremony, the principal told a story I keep thinking about.
He shared how his brother lost his sight in an accident: while walking his dog he slipped on ice, hit his head, and woke up in a world that had gone dark. He was angry at first, then bitter, then slowly found a way to accept it. Ultimately surgeries allowed him to regain about 80% of his vision, but the experience left a lasting impact. The principal described how his brother moves through the world now, genuinely grateful for things the rest of us might walk past without noticing.
And then he said: so the next time your kid comes home with a dent in the car, instead of saying "what the hell happened??" try starting with "it's good to see you." He offered a few other versions of the same scenario - different problems, different reactions - but the point was the same each time. You can respond to the thing, or you can respond to the person. The relationship is still there even after the dent has long been repaired.
The advice resonated with me, partly because it was a beautiful story of gratitude, and partly because it's the same instinct that guides how I approach facilitation: lead with the relationship, come with curiosity, and respond to the person before you respond to the problem. It's also the central lesson of the best parenting book I've ever read.
(Like I said, graduation has a way of sending you down memory lane…)
How to Talk So Kids Will Listen and Listen So Kids Will Talk, by Adele Faber and Elaine Mazlish, made a bigger difference in how I’ve approached parenting than anything else I read during those years. Picking it up again recently, what struck me is how directly the skills in that book apply to what makes someone effective in a meeting – not just as a facilitator, but as a participant.
One thing the book encourages is pausing before reacting. When a child is upset about something that seems small, our instinct is to correct or dismiss it. Faber and Mazlish suggests getting curious instead. A meltdown about the wrong pair of pants might really be about being exhausted, or scared, or having lost a favorite toy earlier that day. There’s a phrase I often come back to: what's going on isn't really what's going on. That behavior we observe is rarely the whole story.
That's just as true in a meeting room. Someone who shows up as the biggest jerk might be worried about what a decision means for their program. Someone who won't engage, sitting with their arms folded, might feel like the outcome is already decided. A group that keeps circling the same problem might be carrying distrust from a process that went badly years ago. By reacting to what's on the surface, you miss all of that.
The authors offer a few other ideas that translate directly. Use "I" statements: "I’m hearing tension that this matters a lot - can you help me understand more?" lands very differently than "why can’t you just get on board?" Give more information rather than reacting instantly: before you push back, ask a question. And remember that sometimes people just want to be heard, and that not every concern needs to be solved. Sometimes the most useful thing you can do is make sure someone feels genuinely listened to. Or seen.
The principal's story and the parenting book are getting at the same thing from different directions. Lead with the relationship, not the reaction. Come with curiosity instead of a response already loaded. And every once in a while, start with "it's good to see you."
