When There Is Resistance

Me, with two colleagues when I taught 6th grade
in Edmonds, Washington

As a teacher, you deal with resistance all the time. Most students will not willingly do as they are told if they are asked to do something they consider unpleasant or worse, or that may compromise their social standing with peers. I can only imagine how hard it is these days to get them to do the multiple-choice tests and practice tests that have invaded schools like a nightmare garden weed.

Schools, like gardens, should
be weed free.

Teachers try all sorts of tricks, bribes, points, threats of pleasures denied or even punishments, and often have to enlist help from parents and administrators to get students to comply and behave. These often don’t work, and if they do, the effect is mostly temporary. Seasoned veterans know there is a magical antidote to resistance: choice.

We all love freedom, but we really love freedom to choose what we want, when we want to do it, and even whether we want to do it at all. Most students don't enjoy that sort of freedom in schools. I used to tell my students that choice is like magic fairy dust in the classroom; the more choices you provide for your students, the more harmonious and happy a climate you will create.

The shift from daughter to caretaker of a parent is not necessarily smooth or linear. For some, it comes after a sudden change in health status, such as a stroke, or a fall. For others, it is a slow process that can encounter a fair amount of resistance. In our case, the switch in roles is still a bit fluid, but it has helped that we are now in Italy where it is natural for me to be in charge of most things, and not just because I drive and speak Italian fluently. My mother still gets to tell me what (not) to wear, comment on my weight, suggest when something needs to get fixed or cleaned up. I have worked hard to help her understand that I get to make sure she takes her pills three times a day, drinks enough water, not too much wine, eats healthy balanced meals, and gets some exercise. We have a little joke that when she complies but unwillingly, she’ll say, “Yes, Mother.”

 

Mimi doesn't handle Monday morning very well.

But there was one seemingly insurmountable hurdle where my mother’s stubborn Irish streak coupled with my own softie sympathies meant a prolonged procrastination. My mother has macular degeneration (AMD) and was being treated in the U.S. with anti-VEGF injections on a regular basis. I have a hard enough time putting a contact lens in my eye, so the idea of shots into the eyeball, even with the tiny needles they use, was appalling. In October a doctor friend forwarded an article about increased mortality in patients being alternatively treated with an IV drug called bevacizumab, and when I read up on this compared to the drug my mother had been getting, Lucentis, I convinced myself that these monthly eye injections were another medical scam targeting vulnerable seniors and gave in to my mother’s refusal to see an eye specialist. Potential side effect of death? NO THANKS. The final nail in the coffin was the warning from my mother’s American doctor that Italian law required the injections be done in an OR hospital setting.

Nine months later when I noticed my mother was having more difficulty reading even with the 3.5 magnification reading glasses, I felt guilty for ignoring my health care responsibilities on her behalf. I made an appointment with the British doctor our American doctor had recommended, and just casually let my mother know. “No! I am not going!” was her response for the days leading up to the appointment, but finally she just had to comply. It helped that because of her Alzheimer’s she did not remember the regular eye injections back in the U.S. and was only resisting in general to the thought of additional doctor visits.

Thankfully, he was one of the best doctors I have ever met. For one thing, he knew a lot about nutrition and supplements and the importance of eye vitamins with lutein, zeaxanthin, and meso-zeaxanthin, suggesting either Macushield or Astar Plus brands. He said I should be taking them as well. He checked my mother’s vision, and examined her eyes, then quickly made an appointment that afternoon in another office where he had the machines to take the pictures to look for macular edema. He did not admonish me for waiting so long to have her eyes checked, but said she was lucky to have gone without Lucentis for so many months. We agreed it was time to have an injection in one eye and made the appointment for the following week in a different office. Relieved that the OR was not in a hospital-like setting, I helped my mother understand what needed to be done. She was an excellent patient throughout, and it turned out to be only a minor ordeal with a minimal reaction post injection. Now there is a follow up appointment this week and there is no resistance.

But what of my magical effect of choice? Well, it turns out that sometimes you have to create a sort of false choice. “If you don’t go to this eye doctor, you risk losing your eyesight and that would be worse, right?” Teachers know how to use this one with particularly obstinate behavior. “You have two choices. Either you do what I am asking of you, or you can call home to explain why we are having this discussion right now.” Um, okay, I really don’t want to talk to my parents with you listening in, so I guess I’ll take choice number one. Works every time.