Everyone Has a Story

Everyone has a story. A set of circumstances that sets up the 'how' and 'why' of every little interaction that occurs in our lives. But because of the nature of the human condition, we have what feels like an infinite number of stories and circumstances to contend with and consider on any given day. Between our own stories that we tell ourselves and those of the people that we interact with and care about, our brains can often become overwhelmed and caught off guard by outcomes that feel unfair and the stories may not seem all that relevant to the decisions we need to make next.

This sets up a chain reaction where we might just zone in on the consequences but ignore how they came to be. And then there are the unspoken stories that may never be told but are the forces that drive the outcomes of today to our doorstep. It's all just too much.

'What's in my control?' 'What should I do next?'  That's all that matters. But is that really true?

What if we could assume that everyone is just doing their best?

I feel like I often fall into the trap of thinking about only what is in front of me and what am I to do about it because that’s all that I'm able to handle in that moment, and then I have leftover thoughts that end up boiling over and causing chaos in my already messy thought process.

The Moment That Tested Me

What's in front of me? An unhappy child who doesn't seem to want anything to do with me and is claiming they are bored to tears. But I'm tap dancing and doing all that I can to push this student in the direction of having fun. Still nothing works.

I want the child to think of music lessons as enjoyable, so at the end of the lesson, I show them "the treasure chest" full of toys that I give out to students that put in the work during their lessons. This student didn't necessarily put in any work this lesson, but creating the possible association between music and fun in their mind is worth the price of giving away an unearned prize.

They poke through about 50 different little trinkets that most kids are excited to inspect, and the only thing they respond with is "these don't look very fun...."

I'm trying to contain my resentment for this interaction, but my insides are screaming at me to judge this person as "bad." Rational me knows that this is a child and there's an infinite web of potential circumstances that could have led to this moment.

The Infinite Web of Possibilities

Here's where my mind starts racing through the branching paths of possibility: Maybe they had a terrible day at school. Maybe their parents fought this morning. Maybe they’re dealing with something at home I'll never know about. Maybe they’re just tired. Maybe they don’t actually want to take guitar lessons, but the parents are making them. Maybe they’re hungry. Maybe they’re overwhelmed by too many activities. Maybe they’re processing something difficult and music lessons are just one more thing on a pile that feels too heavy.

Or maybe none of that is true. Maybe they’re just a kid who wasn't in the mood that day, and I'm overthinking everything.

The thing is, there are what feel like an infinite number of potential considerations that I can choose to keep in mind. The ones that I reflect on or ignore will lead to the overarching message that my mind elects to teach me about any given scenario. However, the messaging may or may not be helpful and could lead me astray by teaching me something that aligns with and allows the authentic expression of my feelings in that moment but creates a need to merely lean on that expression to cope instead of putting in the mental effort to put everything in perspective. The path of least resistance often becomes to just power through and never actually contend with the 'how' and 'why,' even if contextualizing it all may actually inform a clearer path forward that leads to less strife in the future.

The Uncomfortable Truth

Unfortunately, with this particular student, I never learned any more about their circumstances on that day, and I'm just hoping the next lesson goes differently. Yet despite how much brain power I'm utilizing trying to think up understandable reasons why this student may have been behaving the way they were – and it all might be completely false – I still think it's an important mental exercise to do.

When I take the time to imagine the circumstances that might be driving someone's behavior, even if I have it completely wrong, something shifts in me. My frustration softens. My patience increases. My creativity in finding solutions grows.

It doesn't matter if the story I create in my head about why this child was having a hard time is accurate. What matters is that the act of trying to understand – of assuming there's more to the story than what I can see – changes how I show up in the next moment.

The Practice of Assuming Positive Intent

Maybe this is what assuming everyone is doing their best really means. It's not about being naive or making excuses for difficult behavior. It's about recognizing that every person I encounter is carrying their untold stories, dealing with circumstances I don't understand, and operating from a place that makes sense to them in that moment – even when it doesn't make sense to me. This doesn’t mean that I will always possess the energy to do this in every possible circumstance, or that I will always be able to access this mindset during every frustrating moment, however what I can do is try to remember that there's always more to the story than what's in front of me. And maybe that awareness will help me find a different way to connect or at least help me respond with more patience when the treasure chest toys still "don't look very fun."

This is the type of thinking that I try to bring to every lesson. If you’re looking for a teacher that sees the whole child, not just the student, let’s connect!