Three things are converging in my brain this week — well, there are more but I mean relevant to this post kind of things. First, the semester started and so I have classrooms — in-person and online — of new students. Second, the online tracking class is settling in. Third, I am in the middle of a book about trauma (The Body Keeps the Score — HIGHLY recommend).
The book’s author describes what happens in our body when we perceive threat. In one paragraph, he was detailing the physical responses and ends it with noting that in response to this rapid and physiological activation of the body’s danger system, the family dog growls.
Dogs, in other words, read humans like I am reading the book.
I have long been convinced that what humans describe as dogs shutting down at events is nothing more than a dog’s appropriate response to the human non-verbally telling the dog that there is danger close at hand.
Humans are convinced the dog is “blowing me off” — no, the dog is appropriately trying to understand where the lion, tiger, or bear is hiding given that you — the human — are a stink bomb of danger signals.
This is only a slight digression.
I have a classroom of anxious, eager university students who need to be coached on how to interact in appropriate and helpful ways with other human beings. How can I provide coaching and feedback in a way that doesn’t cause them to feel threatened?
This matters because learning cannot happen when an individual perceives threat in the same way that a dog cannot perform in optimal ways when worried about the unknown dog show dangers clearly terrifying a beloved human.
Our bodies’s fight/flight/freeze system does not distinguish between real and perceived threats — that would take too much time and leave us vulnerable. Instead, it is activated when there is merely the perception of threat and when the danger system is aroused, the parts of our brain that are more rational and logical get muffled.
I think of this kind of stuff when training dogs — and training people. How can I provide feedback in ways that do not “feel” threatening so as to keep the dog and human engaged and able to utilize their rational brains?
My strategies include:
Being aware that feedback can feel threatening to self-concept and self-esteem;
Understanding that feedback should be invited;
Avoid overloading Learners with too much information at once;
Use language that focuses on skills;
Recognize it takes courage to hear feedback;
Focus on what is going well so that it can be maintained;
Maintain a compassionate connection to Learners; and,
Link feedback to identified goals.
When I am receiving feedback, I try to:
Assume good intentions of the feedback giver;
Understand the caring and courage it takes to offer feedback;
Recognize skills-based feedback as critical to my personal goal-attainment; and,
Practice mindfulness to understand and slow down my reactions to feedback if I feel my fight/flight/freeze system activated.
This process of learning through feedback is a challenging and imperfect one, and so there is an ongoing need for Grace because none of us will always get it right, no matter our role or intentions.
The view from one of our tracking sites — that is the Bitterroot River.
The Berners on Track group is making incredible progress in both skills and understanding. Tracks are lengthening and cookies are moved from being lures to reinforcers. Handlers are developing handling skills and learning to read dogs. I wish you could all see the progress!
In today’s Week Three video (click HERE to watch) we introduce how to incorporate a turn on the tracks of our Novice dogs. The turn is open (gradual and rounded), in the middle of the track, and because we have added a level of track difficulty, we increase the food drops on that particular part of the track.
Today’s video also gives us a valuable chance to watch the impact of a quick and unintended error message. At about the 2:05 mark, Sadie wanted to rejoin the track but Suzanne holds her back, perhaps thinking that Sadie should not merge so far ahead.
Sadie makes two attempts and gives up, returning to Suzanne. Because Sadie does not have a “bank account” of error messages, she is not discouraged and is quickly and easily redirected back to the track — that is resilience.
A steady stream of error messages, however small and unintended (and often unconscious), will cause a dog (or human) to eventually quit trying — we call this Learned Helplessness. The video is a valuable learning opportunity, and not just about tracking; much gratitude to Suzanne for letting us learn through her learning.
Sadie is ready for a longer line so she can make these kind of independent choices, and Suzanne now knows to let her. Not a big deal — just feedback. Luckily for Suzanne — and the rest of us — human imperfection does not result in the loss of our birthday.
This is Claire’s 770 yard track — you can watch the start and end by clicking HERE.
Happy Tracking — or Happy Whatever you are doing this week.