Tag Archives: Group counseling

Teaching Group Counseling

I forgot how much I love teaching group counseling.

Maybe I forgot because I haven’t taught Group Counseling at the University of Montana since 2017. Whatever the reason, last week, I remembered.

I remembered because I got to provide a group-oriented counseling training to seven very cool program managers and staff of the Big Sky Youth Empowerment program in Bozeman. We started with a structured question and answer opening, followed with a self-reflective debrief, and then re-started with a different version of the same opening so we could engage in a second self-reflective debrief. I’ve used this opening several times when teaching group; it’s getting better every time.

I love the experiential part where I get to flit back and forth between process facilitator and contributor. I love the opportunity to quote Irvin Yalom about the “self-reflective loop” and “The group leader is the norm-setter and role model.” Then I love getting to quote Yalom again, “Cohesion is the attraction of the group for its members.”  And again, “I have a dilemma . . .” Boom. When teaching group counseling, the Yalom quotes never stop!

Groups are about individuals and groups and individuals’ learning from the power of groups. I get to learn and re-learn about strong openings, monopolizers, closing for consolidation, and the natural temptation of everyone in the group to fix other group members’ problems—and the need for group facilitators to tightly manage the problem-solving process. We get to “go vertical” and back out through linking and then “go horizontal.”

Tomorrow I head back to Bozeman for more training with the fabulous BYEP staff. Part of the day we’ll focus on specific group facilitation techniques, which reminded me of a handout I created back in 2017. The handout lists and provides examples for 18 different group counseling techniques/strategies. For anyone interested, the group techniques handout is here:

I hope you’re all having a great Memorial Day and engaging in something that feels like just the right amount of meaningful or remembrance for you on this important holiday when we recognize individuals who made huge sacrifices for the sake of the greater and common good of the group.

All my best,

John

The Love Reframe

 

Years ago I had the privilege and challenge of teaching a class for divorced parents through Families First in Missoula. About half of the dozen or so participants were mandated to attend. This made for an initially less-than-pleasant opening mood. As I went around the room doing introductions, I came to a man who looked a bit snarly. He announced his name and then said, “But I don’t need no stupid-ass parenting class. The only reason I’m here is because the Judge told me that if I didn’t come, I’d be forced to have supervised visits with my 12 year-old daughter. I’m here, but I don’t need this stupid-ass class.”

 

This was a difficult moment and perhaps because I’m a man, complete with a pesky “Y” chromosome, I was tempted to get into an instant pissing match right there. I felt an urge to say something like, “Well, you may not think you need this class, but apparently the Judge does and so you’d better watch how you talk in here!” Instead, somewhat to my surprise, the following words came into my mind and then out of my mouth, “Well, let me especially thank you for coming because you must really love your daughter to be willing to attend this class.”

 

As the 6 hour marathon class progressed, the snarly man settled in. He was never really pleasant, but he contributed to discussions and politely got in line at the end of class to receive his signed certificate. When I handed him the certificate, I said something like, “Hey, you know you should frame this certificate and put it on your wall at home.”

 

A few weeks after the class I got a call from the guy who didn’t need a stupid-ass parenting class. He sounded different and immediately apologized for “being a jerk in class.” Then he told me in a cracking voice that he’d taken my advice and hung the class certificate on his wall. And then it was clear he was crying when he said, “My daughter came over for an unsupervised visit and when she saw that certificate on the wall, she turned around and gave me this big old hug and said, Daddy, I am so proud of you!”

 

This experience and others like it taught me an important lesson about parents in general and fathers in particular. I’ve learned that underneath the bluster of some irritable and difficult dads there are men who desperately love their children. If we tap this potential, good things can happen.

My Favorite Imaginary Group Therapy Session

This is an excerpt from our soon-to-be-published Counseling and Psychotherapy Theories in Context and Practice (second edition, 2012, John Wiley & Sons). It is, of course, like most theories textbooks, packed with subtle and less subtle humor. We even recently had a senior in college tell us that it was the first textbook he actually read cover-to-cover. Now if that’s not an endorsement of just how riveting a textbook can be . . .

The following excerpt is from the last chapter (Chapter 14).

A Concluding Image: Group Therapy with Some Amazing Clients

After reading and writing about so many great therapy minds, one of us (you can guess which one) had the following daydream: Imagine many of the historical and contemporary therapy masters gathered together in one location. They form a circle and begin a discussion. Old friends and rivals are reunited. Freud appears and shakes hands with Jean Baker, Miller who has brought quite a number of impressive-looking women with her. Fritz Perls tries to kiss some of their hands. Adler brings his wife. Carl Rogers signs a book for Prochaska. New friends are made, old rivalries rejuvenated. Insoo Kim Berg smiles quietly off to one side. Jung notes to himself that she must be an introvert. What might happen in this circumstance? What might happen in An Encounter Group for the Major Players?

After some initial mingling, the group process begins:

Rogers: I wonder where we might want to start.

Raissa Adler: Here’s where I’m starting. I’m not taking the minutes for this meeting. I did that back in 1912 for the Free Psychoanalytic Society, so I’ve put in my time. It’s someone else’s turn, and I nominate a male, any male. Women have been taking notes in meetings for so long it’s ridiculous. The problem with women’s psyches has more to do with oppression than repression.

Feminists: [Including Jean Baker Miller, Judith Jordan, Espin, Lillian Comas-Diaz, and Laura Brown—all of whom subversively snuck into the group] You go woman! We’re with you.

Freud: That’s it. Say whatever comes to mind.

Ellis: If you want to think that taking notes is oppression, that’s up to you, but as far as I can tell, you’re oppressing yourself with a bunch of damn crazy, irrational thinking.

Beck: You know Al, we’ve been through this before, but what I think you mean is that Raissa’s thinking that taking notes is oppression could be maladaptive, but not irrational.

Glasser: Raissa can choose to take notes or choose not to take notes. She can also choose to think she’s oppressed or choose not to think she’s oppressed. Personally, Raissa, I recommend that you read my book, Choice Theory. I want you to read it, and I think it will help you, but of course, whether you read it or not, that’s completely your choice.

F. Perls: Be here now, Raissa. Act out those feelings. Be the pen. Talk to the paper.

L. Perls: Fritz, she can be the pen without your assistance. If by chance she finds herself, that’s beautiful.

Ellis: She won’t find a goddamn thing in this group of love-slobs without a flashlight.

Skinner: Uh. Albert. I’ve been wanting to mention to you that if you could just keep quiet when people in here say inappropriate things, we might have a chance at extinguishing that particular behavior.

Ellis: Well, Burris, did you have an irrational thought that someone might actually care about your opinion before you engaged in that speaking behavior, or was it just a function of its consequences?

V. Satir: Albert, if you could just get up on that chair and talk down to Burris, I think you could get in touch with your placating style.

Skinner (Whispering to Ellis): Seriously man. Just ignore her. I’m talking about a complete extinction schedule. Just like I’m ignoring you – except for when you sit quietly and listen to me like you’re doing now.

Rollo May: Freedom and dignity are the essence of being. There’s far too much freedom, with very little dignity in this room.

I. K. Berg: If a miracle happened and we all got out of this group without anyone getting murdered, what would that look like?

A. Adler: My God, I just remembered an earlier memory. No wonder I felt so inferior.

Freud: I hate that word. I just want to be recognized for my contributions. It would make my mother proud.

Rogers: It’s like if only I can make my mother happy. And getting recognized, being remembered, that’s one big way you can have that experience.

Ellis: Siggy, my man. Let me just say this. That crap about being recognized and making your mother proud is the most f—ing ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life. What’s the big deal if everybody forgets you? What’s the terrible, awful, very bad thing that will happen? I mean, think logically about this. You’ll be dead and it won’t make a white rat’s ass difference if people remember you or not.

Feminists: That’s right. I can’t believe we’re agreeing with Albert Ellis. White males can afford to play with such big ideas. Immortality. Do you have a clue about the legacy you’ve actually left? There have been decades of girls and women with destroyed self-esteems. Do you recognize that they litter your road to “greatness”?

Mahoney: I can see Freud as great and I can see feminism as great. Even this lived moment in our genetic epistemology exudes the potential for greatness. We are not a passive repository of sensory experience, but instead, we’re co-constructing this reality right now.

Prochaska: This entire group seems to me to be in precontemplation.

D. W. Sue: Yeah, well, I might consider change if we could construct in a minority voice or two? Most of what I’ve heard thus far is the construction of a very narrow, White reality. Culture is primary, and we need to include color if we’re to meet the needs of everyone, including Raissa, who happens to have a strong Russian ethnocultural identity.

Raissa Adler: [Slowly stands and walks over and embraces D. W. Sue.]

Rogers: What I’m seeing and what I’m hearing, if I’m getting this right, is affection and appreciation. Two people who have, now and again, felt marginalized are able to connect more deeply with each other right now in this moment than with anyone else.

M. White: Actually, Carl, I think I’d just call this a sparkling moment.

A Short Divorce Education Story

It’s a sunny Saturday morning. I was hoping for rain; six hour Saturday classes on divorce and shared parenting are much easier when it’s raining.

Parents begin to arrive. I offer food, but no one eats.  A few people slip into the kitchen and fill their cups with coffee or tea.

Soon, I’m sitting, knee to knee in a circle with ten other men and women.  No one really wants to be here, including me. About half the parents have been mandated by the Court to take this class on divorce and shared parenting. The other half felt compelled to come to deal with a difficult divorce situation.

On the far end of the circle, a big burly man in his mid-thirties stares into space.  He looks angry. We mutually avoid eye contact. Class is about to start and so I’m compulsively making small talk. My chatter includes the local men and women sports teams, the short and long-term weather forecast, and other conflict avoidant topics.  I make a point to NOT bring up religion, politics, or recent changes in child custody law.

We begin with ground rules and introductions. Everyone agrees to confidentiality, to mutual respect, cooperative participation, and to be open to new ideas. As introductions proceed around the circle we eventually come around to the burly man. I notice dread building up in me for what I suspect will be an outpouring of anger and resentment. Instead, when he begins speaking his face contorts. Then he puts his head in his hands and quietly starts to cry.

The room is still. He finally manages to talk. His speech is slow and his words like water. We’re submerged in the ache he feels from missing his son and daughter. Three other parents are wiping their eyes. Only fifteen minutes have passed and these parents are already deeply into their emotional pain. There are no more involuntary participants in this class now; everyone in the room is just a parent—a sad, frustrated, and angry parent missing their children and hating part-time parenting.

In the end, the class that wouldn’t eat, orders pizza together. The participants have bonded; they’ve discovered a common passion. They all love their children and want to be better parents.

Amazingly, the 10 parents agree to put their own pain and misery aside when communicating with their children’s other parent. They commit to keeping their children out of parent-to-parent conflicts. They express their willingness to try to accept and listen to their children’s anger, instead of stamping on it like a smoldering fire. They all realize that nothing will magically make their lives easier. But they resolve on a sunny Saturday afternoon to work as hard as they can to leave behind their dysfunctional anger and frustration. They resolve to become not only more loving parents, but also more skillful parents, parents who are ready to put their children’s best interests first and to treat their children’s other parent with the respect they wish for themselves.