There are many areas of my life where my expectations cause problems. One example is in the classroom. The other day I was telling Jim how frustrating it is when my students cross-talk or text while I am talking or lecturing in class, especially after I've explained that listening is a "classroom agreement," and especially because they are adults and they should know better (there's a reason I don't teach high school). Hrrumph! He looked at me warmly but skeptically and said, "So, you expect there to be absolutely no cross-talking or texting during class?" I nodded. And I should add that I nodded vehemently, with a " yur-darned-right" forcefulness. He continued, "We are social beings; we flirt, chat, laugh. It's just who we are. You're expecting a lot, Margaret." Because he said it in such a kind-hearted way, and because he knows me so well, I really took that in. I thought about it for a few moments and responded, "Hmmm. Maybe you're right." And then I smiled and thought about all the times I'd chatted with a fellow student in class as a high school, college, and graduate student (as for texting, thank goodness there was no such thing as texting back in the late 80's and 90's, because I would have been obsessively texting various love interests and friends throughout all my classes). I cared about what I was learning but because I, too, was and am a social being, I reached out even though it may not have been the most appropriate time to do so. I never thought about how my teacher felt about it or how she/he or other students may have been affected. I was a student, for heaven sakes and the world revolved around me, right? So, Jim and I talked about prioritizing expectations-- which classroom agreements, for example, do I really want to ask my students to keep and which ones are just suggestions, and which ones could I let go of altogether? It was really good food for thought, and even better, I felt calmed by the thought of not having to be such a drill-sargent all the time. I also realized that there are some behaviors--like texting--that really aren't acceptable to me. Getting clear about my bottom line felt really powerful.
As I said, my high expectations also rear their head in other areas of my life. My relationships for example---with my husband, my friends, my family, my supervisors. I expect my husband to be stable and kind even when I'm hitting below the belt; my parents never to make mistakes; my friends to always be compassionate and loving; my supervisors to treat me with the utmost respect at all times, regardless of how much work they have piled on their plate. Tall orders! I am just setting myself up to be disappointed and victimized time and time again. Not only that, but I set myself up to be a huge hypocrite!
This brings me to the subject of boundaries. Now I will admit that even though I am a psychology instructor and a former counselor, there are times when I suck at boundaries! During conflict, for example, I either have no walls or I build huge fortresses to protect myself. Pia Mellody, in her book, The Intimacy Factor, describes this phenomenon in terms of containment. She explains that, "...when we become boundaryless, we allow in too much from another person or send out too much from ourselves...on the other hand, when there is too much containment, we protect the self so carefully that nothing reaches us." Having unrealistic expectations is one thing, having no expectations is another. Boundaries seem to help one navigate this balancing act.
As Jim and I explored this idea of boundaries and expectations more deeply, he explained that we can ask people for what we want (or expect) calmly and succinctly without lecturing, over-explaining or emoting. He reminded me that doing any of the latter with adolescents (or adults acting like adolescents) will get me nowhere fast--I will immediately lose their attention, their respect and that antagonism I referred to earlier? Well, I should expect huge doses of it to come my way! If someone doesn't do what we want or expect then we have a decision to make--either set consequences ("If you don't eat all your vegetables, you can't have dessert") or let go of the want or expectation altogether ("Most kids hate vegetables so maybe I'll find a more creative, less combative way to make sure he get's his veggies"). Maybe the expectation was even a reasonable one (no texting when we're trying to spend quality time together), but if we keep hammering away at it, it will only turn into a power struggle. Best to let it be (chat with the waiter, or turn on the radio when the texting starts) or make another choice like simply not hanging out with the person anymore if they don't seem to be able to give us more of their attention. And we can communicate this without drama, anger, or lecturing. We simply make a choice rather than a demand. How empowering!
Having high expectations, I've realized, sets up a "me-against-you" dynamic; an antagonistic relationship from the "get-go" which can create strife in relationships with coworkers, students, lovers, family members, business partners, etc. I think my mentor was right when he said, "Once you come off as demanding and authoritarian they [my students, my husband, etc.] are going to see you as the parent, and then their going to start projecting all their " kid stuff" onto you." Think about it, do you really want your employees, your spouse, or your friends, throwing tantrums, whining, and rebelling? Yuck. I sure don't. In fact, I've had this happen more times than I'd care to remember. And if it's true what Jim says--that we are all kids and that I should look at my students, supervisors, husband, family and friends as kids rather than adults "who should know better--" my life would be a lot easier! If I could look at every adult who crosses my path as just a kid who is still learning and growing and trying to figure it out I would probably have a lot more compassion for them and, therefore, cut them a lot more slack, and, as a result, experience a lot less disappointment, frustration, and conflict.
So, the next time my husband feels the urge to open the oven door or check under the lid of a pan of boiling water and give me advice about what temperature to cook the chicken or the pasta or the whatever, I can calmly, kindly let him know that I've got it under control and that it would be really good for me to spend some alone time in the kitchen. Calmly, directly, without a fuss, without anger. Aaaah. There is peace in the kitchen once again, and without a tantrum, fight, or the silent treatment. Hallelujah!
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