Trust Me… This Work Needs to Fly

Why its time we let go of strength-based strategies and embrace a more honest approach to feedback

Dr Helen Street

I have just finished a binge viewing of Australian Channel Seven’s reality series? ‘SAS Australia’. The surreal mix of surprisingly frank pseudo-therapy, extreme adrenalin-fueled maneuvering and grueling physical challenge had me hooked from the first episode.

The show is a glaring contrast to popular held beliefs about strength-based feedback and building healthy relationships. In each high-octane episode, SAS instructor Ant Middleton appears to both befriend and belittle his overwhelmed celebrity cohort with equal measures. On the one hand, he is literally shouting at each hopeful contestant to let them know how horribly badly they are failing. And on the other hand, he is hugging them as they dissolve into tears. A move which often results in Ant then stating how proud he is of each exhausted contestant’s achievements.

It is a roller-coaster TV ride, created for entertainment far more than as a means of helping fallen stars regain their self-worth and their place in the spotlight. Yet, through all the glitter, (real) smoke and mirrors, the celebrity contestants appear to gain immense personal and professional value from being on the show. Rather than collapsing from the cascade of downright abusive feedback, they appear to grow mentally stronger with each passing episode. Even those leaving early, such as ‘Cocaine Cassey’ appeared to benefit from this negatively laden approach. Indeed, as she throws down her SAS armband in search of the Channel Seven coffee cart, she demonstrates a new resilient approach stemming from her time on the show.

Perhaps telling people they are terrible at stuff is not as destructive as us strength-based advocates have been led to believe?

I am reminded of my time as a PhD student. A time I look back on with a rose tint and enormous gratitude. I felt I belonged in the Sheffield university world of psychology. I grew as both a professional and as a person during my three and a half years of post-graduate study.? Yet, it was certainly not a time of growth that was nurtured with unbridled strength-based feedback.

About three months after I started, I remember entering my supervisors’ room to receive feedback on my first long-considered chapter. ?I was stunned to read the word ‘sh#t’ in large handwritten letters across the whole of the front page. This definitive ‘feedback’ was then emphasized to me as my supervisor sent my carefully written document flying out of the window…

If that had been the be-all-and-end-all of the encounter, I may well have run home as a weeping mess.

But it was only the beginning.

My very wise supervisor then proceeded to sit down and spend far more time than he had available, discussing how I might improve…we were there for hours.

I remember him telling me that my academic introduction read like an article from Marie Claire… I had even used the word ‘huge’ to describe statistical significance. (The irony of this is that I have spent the past ten years attempting to turn my highly trained academic writing style into a more magazine worthy read, but I digress…).

Years later, when I entered the examining room for my oral exam – a four-hour session in which I defended every word of my thesis to two eminent professors, I had never felt more competent or in-tune with my work. I ended up passing with no need to do more, not even a lost comma or missed out p-value needed finding. My jubilant supervisor took me and my fellow post-graduate friends to the pub for a celebratory, beer filled night.? He was proud of me, and his words of praise meant the world to me. ?I knew he was frank, honest and I could trust he would always tell me the truth as he understood it.

A bit like Ant and his SAS celebrity team…

So where is all this heading?

I want to be very clear in stating that I am certainly not suggesting we shout at students in schools, tell them they are ‘failures’ or throw badly written work out of the window. What I am doing, is suggesting that we need to re-consider the focus of our feedback.

Indeed, I have needed to revise and strengthen my own understanding of effective feedback. I have been known for emphasizing the difference between unhealthy ‘character strengths’ as a way of describing people, and ‘healthy’ strength-based feedback as a way of encouraging them. I now want to revisit this narrative, and stress that I am unsure that focusing on ‘strength’ in any form is particularly helpful.

Rather than focusing on strength-based versus problem-based; I propose we focus on ensuring our feedback stems from a genuine desire to support someone and is delivered with an understanding of who the person we are supporting is. When my supervisor gave me his flamboyant but very harsh feedback about my work, we already had a good relationship built upon trust. ?He had established his faith in my potential and knew I had a strong belief in my own academic capabilities.? He had a good idea of who I was, and what I might achieve.

As much as I believe we need to hold hope to stay engaged with our learning, I no-longer consider continual strength-based feedback to be a great, or effective idea in our schools, or in our homes. ?Rather, honest feedback delivered from a foundation of trust, be it good or bad, is far more meaningful and supportive. As such, I believe that all feedback needs to be delivered with the best of intentions, and a firm belief in the possibilities of ultimate success. It also needs to be authentic.

So, in this, trust and honesty are key.

When we trust that our teachers believe in our ability to reach our goals, we respond more receptively and pro-actively to their honest feedback. It is not so much about being told we got 50% of the test wrong, or that we got 50% right. It is not about the superficial framing of the feedback. Rather, it is about the deeper belief and investment that drives it.

Even though my supervisor’s feedback could feel upsetting at times; at other times it was cause for opening Champagne. More importantly, whatever feedback I was given, I remained fully engaged in the process of learning throughout my time in Sheffield. I remained confident that I would achieve ultimate success, which I did.

The reasons for my ongoing engagement were undoubtedly complex. Many factors contributed to my experiencing intrinsic rewards in the pursuit of my research. For example, I loved my colleagues and friends in Sheffield. I also loved the freedom, creativity and agency I had in my studies.

In addition, I had an ongoing sense of competency, at least most of the time. Even in the face of unashamedly negative feedback. This was a lot to do with my supervisor’s continued belief in me and my potential.? His belief in me was clearly demonstrated by his willingness to invest an enormous amount of time supporting me; his intelligence and humour, his great company when we spent time at the bar, or in the coffee room, and his jubilation when I finally managed to write something worthy of praise.

I believe that we need to focus far less on the positive or negative skewing of all feedback. Instead we need to be as honest as we can be, while also being mindful of who we are giving feedback to. That means we need to prioritize our relationship with someone to be able to give any feedback that counts.

When we trust that someone has our best interests at heart, tough feedback becomes helpful feedback. In contrast, when we do not trust someone’s investment in us, even the most sparkling of praise can leave us feeling uneasy and discontent.

In schools, and in life, let’s turn our attentions to the creation of healthy meaningful relationships as a foundation for providing honest feedback. Let’s ensure we hold high a firm belief in all those we are aiming to support. When we are authentically, positively connected with someone, the best form of feedback is the honest sort.

I believe that in our schools, students need to feel connected to their teachers, if they are to believe in their potential for success. They need to know that their teachers believe that progress and competency are possibilities. This is far more important than teachers learning to say that all things are good, or that there is good in them.?

Feedback is valuable when it is honest and comes from a place of genuine belief in another’s potential to thrive. Be it in an SAS bunker, a supervisor’s office, a classroom, or your home, we all need to know other believe in us, and that ultimately, we are on the same team.

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