"How strange. Yelling doesn't seem to be yielding my desired results."

The other day, I was playing with my little nephew. He was intent on going down one of those small plastic backyard slides.

Like many toddlers, he likes to carry things around with him, especially balls and toy cars. With a ball in his hand, it was challenging to climb the steps to the slide platform, but he managed.

Then, through that nearly telepathic communication that small children have, he showed me that he wanted me to hold his hands while he went down the slide. Well, one hand was busy with the ball, so it was a hand and a wrist.

“Wheeee!” Down the slide he went.

Immediately, he turned around and went to go back up the slide. “Let’s go around!” I said, and gently steered him back to the steps on the other side.

Then we repeated the process — about fifteen times.

Every single time, the little boy struggled with the ball but made it up the steps. Every single time, he motioned for me to help him down the slide.

And every single time, he made as if to go back up the slide from the bottom — and I gently reminded him to go around to the steps.

I don’t think my nephew really wanted to try to go up the slide. Each time I reminded him, there was zero resistance. He simply changed course and went around.

On a full night of sleep, with someone so irresistibly cute and tiny whose life and safety I’m not responsible for on a continuous basis, it was easy enough to be charmed and amused by the toddler’s consistent error.

But with an older child — or a sullen teenager — or a difficult colleague — or a stranger — or or a spouse — with no sleep — on an empty stomach — it is more difficult to handle such a situation calmly or assume goodwill on the part of the other person.

Instead of repeating our instructions, we escalate rapidly or immediately. “What is wrong with you?”

We assume the person wasn’t paying attention or that they were deliberately messing with us. And sometimes, that’s exactly what’s happening.

But if the person was deliberately messing with us, our agitation is the payoff they are looking for. Likewise, if the person is ignoring us to assert their power, the’ll know they’ve won when we get upset.

And if the person genuinely needed a reminder, like my nephew, there’s no reason to start yelling.

So regardless of the intent of the person we’re dealing with, a better course than rapid escalation is to repeat our request in the same neutral tone we started with. We can continue this until we get the results we’re looking for or intentionally decide on a different approach.

With learners, in particular, our instructions may need to be repeated several times in order to be understood. If we stay neutral each time, we avoid making shame a part of the learning experience ( for instance, by implying things like, “Why can’t you get this?”). By staying calm, we make it easier for someone to ask for help or admit when they don’t know something. Not only that, we can more easily reevaluate our own words, acknowledge when they are unclear, and adjust. We haven’t dug in our heels, so we can dance a little.

Staying calm and neutral, time after time, is not easy. But it is effective. It conserves our energy, keeps us in control of ourselves, and ensures that we remain kind to all (including ourselves).