Tag Archives: Group counseling

Co-Leader Conflict . . . Vulnerability . . . and Giving Each Other (and Ourselves) Grace

Group this week was chaotic, great, and disconcerting. As the leader-instructor, I felt perhaps I didn’t get the students prepared enough to run their in-class discussion and color groups. I worried that now we’ve got too much experiencing and not enough educational content.

These feelings and thoughts are familiar; maybe they’re familiar to other educators. To learn, students need experiences, but they also need knowledge, information, and educational content to put experiences in context. They also need external feedback, to go along with the internal feedback process in which they naturally engage. How hard is it to hit the sweet spot? Very hard!

While observing one group, I noticed conflict emerging between co-leaders. I didn’t intervene. During their self-evaluation process, the leaders acknowledged their tension. My response? I normalized their experience of co-leader conflict and the challenges of co-leader conflict management.

Later, while debriefing the various group experiences with the whole class, I spontaneously began speaking about group leader conflict. Words came out of my mouth in advance of a clear mental formulation of what I wanted to say.

“Group co-leader conflict will occur. Sometimes your co-leader will go a different direction. You’ll be watching and wondering, ‘What’s going on here?’ You may have a negative reaction. You may feel critical and annoyed. When this happens, we need to give each other grace.”

Another theme bubbling up this week involved vulnerability. The group leaders feel vulnerable and on-the-spot for obvious reasons; I expected that. What I’ve been less prepared for is the vulnerability students felt as group members who were prompted to share “happy” and “meaningful” songs. Here’s their group leadership assignment:

Some students seemed sensitive to perceived coercion, and the related expectation that they were obligated to be vulnerable. I got enough takeaway emails about vulnerability that I’m sharing a few of my responses (I’m not sharing the emails from the students; I’m sharing my email responses)  

Emails on Vulnerability

I’m glad to hear the music activity felt connecting for you with your group. It’s interesting how music might seem like a “light” topic, but it certainly can get emotional and vulnerable, sometimes very quickly.

Thanks for sharing your reactions from your color group experience. I’ve heard similar reactions from others. I too, found myself surprised that some members felt the activity involved vulnerability . . . but then I remembered several things, not the least of which is the emotional power of music and the fact that talking about happiness nearly always, at some point, elicits sadness and vulnerability.

Your comments about the diverse reactions to the music assignment reminds me of a point I want to make in class tomorrow. The point being: When we talk about happiness, the emotional reaction is often the opposite! Initially, I felt surprised that some groups felt the assignment was pretty vulnerable, but then I thought, of course! Sharing anything feels vulnerable. . . and music is a powerful emotional activator.

Thanks for sharing your thoughts/reactions from your Color Group. Noticing and appreciating others’ discomfort is so important, partly because it involves empathy, but also because what causes some people discomfort may not even be a blip for others, including you. It IS a great thing to be mindful about.

Reading and responding to student emails is helping me be more thoughtful and accepting of their experiences. Although their experiences naturally activate my memories about my grad school group experiences, more importantly, reading about their experiences helps me move past my own memories and my own narrow lived experiences. My students are giving me a chance to have greater appreciation for the wide range of simple and complex factors that activate their vulnerabilities. For me, that’s one (of many) lessons from this week: My surprise regarding students’ feeling vulnerable is countertransference. As countertransference, it’s a good thing to notice. But the point is to give myself grace around my countertransference, while nurturing and growing my ability to move around my surprise and seek deeper understanding of my students’ experiences . . . just as I hope they will do with their clients.  

Storming: My Favorite Group Stage (at least for today)

In group class, we’re covering content related to group stage called “Storming.” The Coreys’, who’ve written about and led many groups, call this the “Transition” stage. During the storming or transition stage, group members start to push against or question group norms and/or the group leader’s authority. Not to be trite, but like roses, no matter what name it, the smell and tension of storming feels the same.

I’ve been waiting and watching for storming to emerge within my class. I know group process unfolds during class groups, just as it unfolds in psychoeducational, counseling, and psychotherapy groups. I thought I might ignite storming, by asking my counseling graduate students to focus on positive psychology. I did get a little push-back from students who emailed me about their “mixed” feelings about positive psychology. My response was to share that I also hold mixed feelings about positive psychology, along with mixed feelings about psychoanalytic theory, behavioral theory, CBT, feminist theory, acceptance and commitment therapy, and every other theory or approach I can think of.

This past week an ever-so-minor edge of a storm found its way into class. After class started, one student expressed negative feelings about a reading I’d assigned, noting that she thought the article was “shaming” to mandated clients. As often occurs with storming, I had an immediate and complex emotional and impulse-ridden response. Rather than acting on my emotions or defending the reading, I managed to welcome the critique. When I say “managed” I mean to communicate that IMHO, welcoming critiques is not easy, and maybe not natural. A few minutes later, I acknowledged that although I wished everyone would love all the class readings, I also wanted people to feel they had permission to not love the readings and speak openly about their opinions. Later that evening, I received an email takeaway from the student who didn’t like the reading. As you may recall, one of my group class assignments is for students to email me two takeaways in the days following class. Because she expressed what I want to communicate better than I can, here’s her email (shared with her permission).

Hey John,

My biggest takeaway from today was watching your modeling of working with storming, both with myself and [with another student]. The way that you allowed for expression of our feelings, were vulnerable with your own, and then used the material to create more conversations, norms, etc., was really helpful to see. I also want to share on this topic that when my oldest kiddo and I were talking this morning about what our days were looking like, I was talking to her about my feelings about an article we read for class that I didn’t agree with, and that I was going to bring it up in class. And her response was, “You’re going to tell your professor that?!?!” She was shocked that I felt like I could say that in class, and I wanted to thank you for creating a space where I felt like that was alright.

My other takeaway is your quote from class today, “We want to give people the chance to be interesting.” I think there are so few opportunities that people have to be seen and heard by others in a way that is meaningful. Coupled with the big, sort of inherent opportunity as a group leader to take up ‘too much space,’ your advice feels like a really important nugget that I want to take with me into leading groups in the future.

What I love best about this email (and I love a lot of it) is my student’s anecdote about her daughter’s reaction: “You’re going to tell your professor that?!?!” And what I love best about that is—consistent with other conversations we’ve been having in class—we should not run groups like cults. As leaders, professors, administrators, clergy, and politicians, we need to be open to independence of thought and listen to unique perspectives. What I think is not the truth and what I value is not necessarily the correct moral philosophy for everyone.

Today. . . I am very happy to have handled a little storming with acceptance and openness. Tomorrow may be different. But for today, I get to feel the good feelings of being able to live my best group leader values—even if it didn’t involve me being right about anything.  

Teaching Group Counseling: Class 1

I feel sorry for Mick Jagger. In that one song he lamented over and over about not getting no satisfaction. If he would just have asked me, I could have helped. I would have told him exactly how to get satisfaction. I’d have said, “Hey Mick. All you have to do to get satisfaction is to teach a course on group counseling to about 34 fantastic counseling students from the University of Montana, along with having a couple of teaching assistants.”

That’s it, Mick. Even you can achieve satisfaction. Getting satisfaction from teaching group counseling might even inspire you to write a new song titled “So Much Satisfaction.” Here are some lyrics for you to consider (no need to thank me Mick):

I can’t stop getting, satisfaction,

cause I tried, and I tried, and I tried, and I tried

I keep getting so, much satisfaction. . . satisfaction. . . satisfaction.

No doubt all you readers are now on the edges of your seats and experiencing bated breath while waiting to hear how group class #1 went. Well, here’s the answer. Great. Awesome. Exciting. Fun. And satisfying. . . so satisfying.

During our introduction activities, everyone was engaged, funny, profound, humble, and always interesting. During my lecture time, I talked about group types and made my “we need to stretch ourselves to listen with acceptance to everyone” speech. One response to my little speech was genuine concern about being able to be accepting with clients who, in their presentation, are harsh, judgmental, and politically and socially extreme in their values. This was a challenging comment/question, because of how incredibly hard it is to listen with compassion and empathy when someone is expressing extremely unkind and judgmental thoughts and beliefs.

Had I been a better group counselor in the moment, what I might have done was to push the question/comment out to the group. On the other hand, I knew that I was probably the one in the room with the most experiences of this type. I was immediately (in Class #1) thrown into an Irv Yalom-esque group leader dilemma. Should I respond with my thoughts. . . or should I deflect the question/scenario to the group.

Yalom also emphasizes that group leaders are, by default, the group role-models and norm-setters. That being the case (and given that this is a graduate course with 36 “group participants”), I chose to throw myself and a couple stories into my response.

The stories—working with parents who insisted on not accepting their child’s sexuality/gender and working with fathers who, not infrequently, would call me variations on the theme of “pansy-ass”—emphasized the strategy of listening first, of thanking parents, clients, students, for their openness, and then highlighting the truth that we cannot lead with education (no matter how much we think it’s needed). Instead, we listen with acceptance and empathy until there’s an opportunity to “broaden” the parent/client/student’s perspective.

I’ve put the word “broaden” in quotations because it’s related to what I want to share next: The Weekly Class Takeaway Email Assignment.

The Takeaway Assignment

This past year, I’ve been using the weekly takeaways assignment to give me a clearer sense of what the students are experiencing in our classes together. For this assignment, students send me, within 5 days of the lecture/class time, an email describing their top two class takeaways. The takeaways assignment also allows me to evade the possibility of an AI generated response.

Typically, and this was the case with week one of the group class, student responses are consistent with what I thought they would takeaway. However, the most exciting part of reading the takeaways is when students weave their own personalized perceptions into their responses; this gives me a glimpse not only of what they’re thinking, but how the content I’m presenting on is being received and interpreted by students. I especially like it when students have reflections that surprise me, or include content that I had not expected, because . . . that’s when the learning goes both directions. 

In their takeaways, a couple students used the word “broaden” to discuss their perceptions of my response to the “How can we handle very judgmental clients?” question. I hadn’t remembered using the word, but it felt perfect—especially in the context of group counseling. One of the big goals of group counseling—again, I’m channeling Yalom—is to hear, see, feel, and experience the reflected appraisals of ourselves that come from other group members. Because we cannot always (or maybe ever) see ourselves as others see us, experiencing how other group members experience us is gold. When it’s working, the group offers us other perspectives that can broaden or expand our own narrow views of ourselves and the world.

Among many of my takeaways is that I loved the use of the word “broaden” to describe what good group counseling can give us. With broadened perspectives we can grow the depth, breadth, and accuracy of our perceptions of ourselves and others.

Here’s the ppt deck for last Tuesday’s class:

Until next week,

JSF   

Teaching Group Counseling: Preparation

For the first time in seven years, I’m teaching group counseling this semester. This forces me to think about, “What’s the latest scoop on teaching group counseling?” I’ve been reading and talking and gaining information, but if anyone out there has particular insights to share with me, please do.

In my prep, I’ve decided that there’s tons of content out there, in professional journals, books, book chapters, and everywhere else I look. Nevertheless, to break free from the oppression of content, one of my first decisions is to go experiential. This isn’t much different from seven years ago, but my plan is to be even MORE experiential.

Based on previous experiences teaching group, talking with faculty, and talking with students, the Group course is a place with a complex mix of anxiety, vulnerability, and potential conflict. To manage this exciting and challenging mix, I’ve got several plans.

  1. After my infamous “Group is open” anecdote, I will share my philosophy on brain development and counselor skill development. In the Moodle shell, I wrote: “Hey Everybody, Welcome to our group counseling course at U of M. I love group counseling and I love teaching group counseling. More than any other approach, group work requires that we maintain an attitude of acceptance and hold the statements and disclosures that others make with sensitivity and grace. One big goal in this class is for all of us to continue to grow those parts of our brain that makes us excellent listeners. Mostly, we need to let go of other parts of our brain that wants to debate, argue, and express our opinions. I look forward to this adventure and journey with you. See you Tuesday, John SF”
  2. TBH, I’m not sure how my philosophy will fly with students . . . but sharing it fits with Irvin Yalom’s mantra that the group leader is instantly the primary norm setter and role model. Along with my philosophy, I will also disclose some of my anxieties and insecurities. Yes . . . even after 40+ years as a mental health professional, I still feel the creep of imposter anxiety.
  3. Then we’ll circle up and jump into two rounds of experiential introductions. I do two rounds of experiential introductions to give students a chance to “feel” the difference between more structured and less structured group process. I’ve done this before; it feels like a relatively safe, fun, and process-oriented opening.
  4. Then, in the spirit of Yalom’s “self-reflective loop,” we will debrief and debrief some more.
  5. After exiting the experiential introductions, we’ll stay in the circle, review the course syllabus (assignments), and then talk about our planned feedback process. Once, when I asked Allen Ivey for his best advice on learning counseling skills, he said he could summarize his advice in six words: “Practice, practice, practice, feedback, feedback, feedback.” I thought that was a pretty cool answer. You can check out my ideas about feedback on a previous blog post: https://johnsommersflanagan.com/2020/08/18/guidelines-for-giving-and-receiving-feedback/
  6. The last part of class #1 (time permitting) will be me reviewing a few group counseling basics (e.g., group types, group stages, cultural humility, under-confidence, overconfidence, and the wonder and narrowness of the dialectic of lived experience. Should be a blast.

I’m hoping to blog every week about my Group Counseling class and the teaching and learning experience. Of course, that will depend on my time management skills. I’m thinking maybe I’ll coax one of my students into running a psychoeducational group on time management—and then maybe I’ll actually achieve my weekly Group Counseling goals.

Here’s a screenshot of my feedback prompt (aka ppt slide).

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.