The 4:1 Rule

77% Weekly Newsletter

The 4:1 Rule

 

4:1 Rule — It’s not easy. But it’s doable. And, worthwhile.

 

 

I hear the canister signaling that the process of carbonation is complete as the button is rhythmically, continually pressed.

 

Psssh. Psssh. Psssh.   

Psssh.   

Psssh-sh-sh-sh-sh.   

Psssh. Psssh. Psssh

Psssh. 

Psssh-sh-sh-sh-sh.   

Psssh. Psssh. Psssh. 

Psssh-sh-sh-sh-sh. 

 

Emmett presses the carbonating button on SodaStream as many as twenty times when he makes himself seltzer.

 

The extra presses don’t hurt anything that much. 

They don’t break anything.

They are not unsafe.

 

It’s just not how I do it — which, coincidentally and not surprisingly, is how the directions and I think is should be done — and how the directions say it should be done.

 

(Funny how many things, I think, should be done as I think they should be done.)

 

Nonetheless, I keep quiet as he wastes minute portions of CO2.

 

The seltzer machine carbonates a liter of water after four presses. 

 

At most.

 

But, I don’t say anything.

Because of the 4:1 rule.

 

 

==*==

 

 

The 4:1 rule is something I first heard about from John Gottman, who studied couples who stayed together.

 

For every correction or negative comment, 

you need to have four neutral-to-positive comments.

 

(Actually, I’ve had it wrong. Here’s what he found in his research: for every negative interaction during conflict, a stable and happy marriage has five (or more) positive interactions.)

 

https://www.gottman.com/blog/the-magic-relationship-ratio-according-science

 

 

==*==

 

 

I saw the power of the 4:1 rule when I applied it in my classroom.

 

As my students’ math teacher, I had to correct them a lot. Of course, I did. 

 

But who wants to listen to someone who’s constantly correcting you?

 

So I tried to even it out with many neutral and positive comments. (I count anything not critical as neutral.)

 

“Oh, Taryn, you are here on time.” 

“Charles, you got a haircut, fresh cut.”

“Is that a new backpack?”

 

 

==*==

 

 

A second story… also about Emmett.

I text him: “Hey, Mom asked you to straighten up the house; can you get on that?”

 

A little while later, I hear the vacuum going. Success.

 

About 10 minutes after that, I head upstairs to put out some mail, and I see he is vacuuming the hardwood floor with the machine’s carpet roller engaged. It’s not the most effective setting. 

 

But, again, instead of correcting, I thank him for being dutiful.

 

I’m sure he’ll learn about the roller setting someday.

 

 

==*==

 

 

To not criticize is hard. It’s not intuitive.

In How to Win Friends and Influence People, Dale Carnegie teaches, 

Never say, “You’re wrong.”

Call attention to people’s mistakes indirectly.

Let the other person save face.

 

Of course.

 

But that’s not what most of us are used to doing.

 

 

==*==

 

 

Mistakes, deficiencies, and misteaks and errs, and mistakes are always there to comment upon. 

 

But so are opportunities to make neutral and positive statements:

I like how you spelled misteaks to make a point.

“You’re fun to be around.

“I see you are wearing a skirt today.” 

 

 

==*==

 

 

A third vignette with Emmett, from a very recent day, a few days before he started college. (Wesleyan.) He and I are sitting in the back seat of the minivan.

 

I tell him, “Hey, kiddo, quick ‘dad tip’—when you are out and give your credit card or ID to someone, don’t put your wallet back in your pocket until you get the card back. It’s a little hack that keeps me from leaving my card behind.”

 

I could see how that helps,” he says.

 

Because I want him to hear the things that I think are important, like this mini-lesson, I don’t correct every little thing he does.

 

 

==*==

 

 

It might take a bit of practice for you to do this—four neutrals/compliments for every one correction—with other people.

 

And, while you are working on it, I’d ask you to consider bringing yourself to do the same with your own mind/self-talk.  

 

It’s not easy. But it’s doable. And, worthwhile.

 

Next time you find that you are being harsh on yourself, see if you can think, Oh, look, I’m being mean to myself…which is a neutral comment…which means you only need to find three more to even out that particular criticism.

 

(And you might have to start with a ratio of 1:4, get yourself to 1:1, and then build towards 4:1.)

 

The 4:1 rule isn’t about perfection.

 

It’s about balance.

It’s about choosing love over being right, and choosing patience over teaching.

 

And sometimes, it’s about letting the SodaStream hiss away.

 

Rabbi Brian Doesn’t Understand

In the 18th century, in Hannipol, a small district of Khmelnytskyi Oblast, in present-day western Ukraine, there was a rabbi known as Reb Zusya. Zusya, a pious man, taught about humility and had a strange habit of referring to himself in the third person. Instead of saying, “I am hungry,” or “I don’t understand,” he would say, “Zusya is hungry,”

Read More »

Travesty

I rewind the etymology podcast 15 seconds because I missed the details about the origin of the word travesty. I want to listen again—more closely—so I learn it, so I can recall it later in conversation… because if I tell you how travesty—from “traverse” and “clothing”—came to mean “shockingly unfair,” you’ll think I’m smart. Lost in that thought, I suddenly

Read More »

The Soup We Are In

Most of the time, even when we don’t really need to be rushing (and sometimes without realizing we are rushing) a really large percentage of us rush anyhow. Seems we are angled forward, always striving to get ahead. I get it. It’s the soup we are in. Our society conflates productivity, hurriedness, and worth. We take on the flavors around

Read More »
77% Weekly Newsletter
77% Weekly Newsletter