topAnecdotesStimulating short stories in support of communication masteryUpdated/corrections/edits 11/21/08 The Homework StoryThis story goes back to 1973 when I was teaching part-time at the University of Hawaii Speech Communication Department, Manoa Campus. Students reported on their Instructor Evaluation Forms that they felt as though they learned more from me than with other faculty members. It was also a time of awesome struggle in my second marriage. Coincidentally, the faculty members were arguing amongst themselves about combining the Speech and Communication Departments. Most disconcerting was the fact that although my students said they learned a lot from me I knew they could not communicate with their parents any better at the end of my course than they could at the beginning—in truth they mirrored me and my wife and the faculty. Whatever we were teaching, thought I, it sure wasn't communication. The results didn't fit my picture of our potential. I left the university and started doing my own thing, to my own standards, as a Leadership-Relationship Communication-Skills Consultant/Coach. Since then I've had thousands of clients, the vast majority through referrals. Although the interim stories are interesting The Homework Story takes place in 1987, 15 years later, with me moving to the Big Island of Hawaii and another part-time teaching position, this time on the Hilo campus of the University of Hawaii. Once again my subject is "Introduction to Speech/Communication." I was very excited about the opportunity. I just had spent fifteen years working with some of the most prominent business persons on Oahu (read, multi-cultural to the max). I had thousands of first-person experiences about the communication skills needed to succeed in the melting-pot of the business world. I knew I'd be able to do an excellent job. It's my first day. I have a fresh haircut and word-processed outlines. I'm cool and ready to go. The 22 students are great. We have fun introducing ourselves, getting to know each other. Communication courses are like that. I'm on schedule with my 50-minute class and I've left a generous 5 minutes to assign the homework. They leave happy and my next identical class comes in. I'm on a roll. Like the others, they are mostly freshman, from the Big Island of Hawaii's high schools, with three students from the outer islands and two from the mainland. We have a great time. We go over the Class Agreements and after assigning the identical homework (read the first chapter) I end the class exactly on time. It's day two: After about five minutes of small talk I asked them to form into small discussion groups and share what they got from the reading assignment. As I walked around it became clear that the majority had not read the first chapter. None had raised their hand (per a class agreement) to say so. H'mm, I could have sworn I communicated. Well, it's my responsibility for not communicating that I meant for them to do the homework. So, I modified my outline, cut short the discussion groups, and allowed myself 10 minutes to assign the homework. This time I made certain they got that I meant it. They reaffirmed their commitment to the Class Agreements, one of which was to do the homework. They left in great spirits. As soon as the second group was seated I asked, "Is there anyone who did not do the homework?" Two thirds of the class raised their hands. I acknowledged those that did and those that didn't. For the remainder of the class I had them do small-group work on a subject I took from the first chapter. Again I allowed ten minutes to assign the homework. I was certain they heard that I wanted it done. Day three: "Is there anyone who didn't do the homework?" This time about 50% of the class raised their hands. The same thing happened with the second group. H'mm, this is very interesting. With both classes I now set aside 15 minutes to communicate the homework. We talked about all the reasons, why they didn't do the homework, and I got their excuses. Day four: About five in each class didn't do their homework. Not always the same students either. I assigned study partners and they exchanged phone numbers and times to call each other. They agreed to each be responsible for the other doing the homework. Eventually, we spent the whole class talking about what this was about. They shared that most (Big Island) high school teachers don't expect everyone to do the homework, and, that they don't check homework consistently. They just say, "Here's the homework," but they don't mean it. They also they confessed, that other UH instructors and professors were "not as strict" as I was. The next day two students went to the Dean with tears in their eyes complaining about me. I got a call from the Speech Communication Department Chairman to meet with him and the Dean. They asked, condescendingly, "What are you doing?" [as in, What in the hell are you doing?] I told them I was teaching the students how to communicate. They looked at each other and almost in unison said, "No, no, no. Your job isn't to teach them how to communicate. Your job is to introduce them to the subject of communication and teach them about the communication process." My jaw dropped. I felt embarrassed, humiliated, and upset. With a B.A. and an M.A. in Speech Communication I had never made that distinction before. In one crystallizing moment everything became clear to me. No wonder high school teachers have a difficult time getting students to do the homework. No one has ever taught them how to produce that result. It's not something that is taught to education majors at the university level. The Chairman continued,
I mumbled something about one of the agreements the students made on the first day—to communicate any upsets with me first—and, that I wished the Dean had asked them, "Have you talked to Mr. King about this?" I knew from their comments, and the fact that I wanted to be right, that it was hopeless. I should have gone to them both, at the beginning of the semester, and asked if they would support my students in honoring their agreement to communicate upsets to the person with whom they have the upset. Duh! As though I didn't know the university faculty communication model supports (behind the back) badmouthing. The Dean then suggested that he and the Chairman sit in on one of my classes the following day. I said that it would be ok as long as they would agree to sit in the circle and participate in the discussions. They both said that they didn't want to be a part of the discussion, merely to sit in the rear and observe. I told them they would influence the student's participation. Unbelievably, they both argued that it wouldn't affect the students. I saw in that moment that I did not have the skills, nor permission, to teach them something I had been taught in a Freshman speech class, that observers always affect the outcome. I told them that it wouldn't work for me to have them observe. They were upset. The two students transferred to another class. I gave the rest of the students a choice, "... a watered-down easy course, or, the best I knew how." They unanimously opted for the latter. I finished the semester and have not been selected to teach again. —by Kerrith H. (Kerry) King Close your browsers window or press the back key to return The Copier StoryFor seven years I volunteered my services, four hours a week, at the est Office of Hawaii. That's another story. This one is about my experience with Elaine Cronin, the office manager, whom I hold in high regard. She knows how to manage. It was a privilege to work with her. One day she gave me a stack of about 300 letters to fold, add two inserts, and stuff into envelopes. She demonstrated exactly how it was to be done. I was a bit miffed that she thought I needed a demonstration, but watched anyway. She then had me do one. She then said, "No. This way." She showed me that I had not placed the fold of the letter in the envelope exactly as she had demonstrated. I was always discovering how unconscious I was around her. She kept me awake. Having satisfied her that I knew how to do the job as she wanted it done, she left. About 20 minutes into the job Elaine came out of her office and asked me to make a copy of something. It's important to know that we were working at the level of excellence, to get the job done exactly as communicated. Each job was an exciting opportunity, not only to serve but to show how great I was. Can you spell e-g-o? So, I went to the copier, placed the paper perfectly. I looked at the result. It wasn't centered top to bottom. I did three more copies, each one more towards perfection. I then sped back, like a second-grader having erased my first chalk board, with my great job done. She thanked me. She had no idea of the trouble I went through to do it perfectly. She really didn't care about how much time it took, just that I did the job. The drama was mine. I then went back to the table outside her office and resumed stuffing the envelopes. About ten minutes had passed and she came out and stood watching me for a few seconds and then, from the middle of one of the stacks I had done, took out one and opened it. They hadn't been sealed yet. She took out the letter and showed me it was missing one of the inserts. It blew my mind. I would have bet money that I had been doing yet another perfect job. She then walked over to the copy machine, opened the lid and to my embarrassment found the master I had left there, from which I made the copy. And no, she could not have seen me make the missing insert mistake from her office. My jaw dropped to the floor. She then said casually, with no emotion whatsoever, "Go though the stacks and double-check those you've done." I did and that was the only one I had goofed up on. It was mind blowing. I couldn't believe what she had done. To be so in tune with things. I had had enough experiences with Elaine, and other est staff members, to know it wasn't luck that she reached into the middle of the pile and found my one error. She knew enough to look for errors when she found that I not done complete work with the copying job. Magic happens in the space of integrity, when one is committed to doing complete work. How did she know to look for the error, the incomplete? She found herself making a mistake at her desk due to her incomplete job of supervising me in doing complete work with the copier job. —by Kerrith H. (Kerry) King Close your browsers window or press the back key to return general The General's Story The Army hired a communication consultant to improve communications, specifically between and amongst the junior officers and enlisted personnel. The consultant asked the Generals how communication was between themselves and their subordinates. Almost as though rehearsed they replied that it was "pretty good." They all said they had an "Open Door Policy." They sincerely felt as though they were there for their men. The enlisted men could come in any time and talk about anything. The consultant then asked the middle echelon officers, the Colonels and Majors, what they thought. The officers said that they also had an open door policy for their men and ensured that the policy was kept all the way down the chain of command. They felt things were quite good with senior officers, they were however, always aware of being diplomatic and respectfully courteous when talking with them. They all said they were more honest with fellow ranking officers. When the enlisted men were asked what they thought was the communication problem in the military, they said they couldn't tell their superiors the truth. They were always worried about promotions and pretty much kept their opinions of their sergeants and officers to themselves. The Open Door Policy? Yes, it's there, but who's going to tell a Sergeant or a General the truth? Whenever possible, "you tell them what they want to hear." The point of the story is that no matter what the leadership of an organization thinks, those dependent upon management for promotions and survival withhold certain thoughts, the personal-growth feedback, the stuff that really counts. There is a communication model that supports open, honest and spontaneous communication. It's not taught at public schools. —by Kerrith H. (Kerry) King Close your browsers window or press the back key to return playground The Playground Story My first recess, the first day of second grade in a new school. We had just moved. My parents had promised me wonderful new friends, excited to meet me. So far, the response had been cool at best. No one seemed to notice me at all, and everyone already had friends. So I sat alone at recess, in a safe shady spot, uncomfortable, anxious, assessing the mass of students, wondering where my niche was. Then, a loud bell rang. The raucous playground jumped, and kids jumped down from tires, off swings, running in all directions, disappearing into different doors along the brick wall. I ran too, toward a door, following the crowd, but as I got closer I realized it was younger children streaming into it. Wrong door. I stood still as the crowd of kids washed over me, looking for a face I knew. They all looked like strangers streaming by. Suddenly another bell rang, and all at once the doors closed. There I stood, alone in the silence, in a vast concrete plain of playground. I faced the red brick wall lined with orange doors. Maybe twenty doors. Each door looked identical; no words, no pictures, all the same orange. The silence and the wind, and my grief and fear, and total aloneness. Would anyone even know I was out here? Were the doors locked? Alone, abandoned, probably about to get yelled at if someone did discover me still out at recess. I stared hard at the doors. I searched within me to see if I knew it, could remember by instinct which one it was. I felt stupid and ashamed. Everyone else, even those smaller children, every single one knew which was their door. Every second I waited in that silence, the terror was building that someone was about to come out and yell at me, thinking I was bad and skipping school. Being new, no one knew I was good yet. I did not want to walk back into the second grade on my first day crying like a child before all those strangers, having been stupid. But I was crying. I tried to stop, but it was too late. There was no hiding it now, and no excuse for it. Only a medical emergency would do. I picked a door and burst into it, covering one eye with my hand, into a quiet room full of staring older students, and an unfamiliar teacher. I felt a twinge of relief that it was not my own class. "Help" I sobbed to the strange teacher, "I have something in my eye!" Put out but concerned, she called on a boy and told him to take me to the nurse. He was gruff and contemptuous, but he escorted me through the labyrinth of halls to the bright office without requiring from me even a word, which suited. He left me there, with a real nurse, wearing a white outfit and everything. She had me lay down on a paper-covered cot while she tended someone else. My heart sang. I breathed in the cooling air-conditioned air, and the mint/disinfectant smell, and was comforted. When she came to speak with me her manner was gentle, but when she said, "What's wrong?" I was undone. I cried and could not speak. She waited awhile, then began to question me. "Did you fall? Cut yourself on something? Twist an ankle?" Sobbing, I shook my head, but one part of me was waiting for her to name some hurt that fit. "Do you have to use the bathroom?" I paused in my crying, and realized that I did. So I went, and after I splashed my face in cold water, and collected myself somewhat. I came out. "I had something in my eye, but I cried it out." I felt bad lying to her, in her clean bright space, but better than having her, my only ally, know how stupid I was. She assessed me coolly, then said, "Very well, you may return to your class." "I don't know the way!" I said instantly, about to cry again thinking of the dark maze, twists and turns and strange doors. "I will take you," she said, and did. But the next day I had the same problem, and was back on the paper couch after an identical incident. I did this for about a week, until I managed to latch on to someone I could recognize from my class at the end of each recess, and stay on their heels until I was through the correct orange door. The nurse wised up, of course and began to ask things like, "Is there a class you have now that you don't like? Math, maybe?" But after I evaded the interrogation, she always escorted me back to my classroom. I never told anyone the real reason. — by Kim Wilkinson, Board Member, Community Communications. Close your browsers window or press the back key to return The Carp Pond Story Several years ago I arrived at that it was hopeless. The more I learned the less I knew. It hurt deeply. It shattered my Yankee can-do-attitude to the very core, so much so that I checked in to a Zen monastery in Japan. My thoughts were of retiring there. Actually, I visited with them, checked them out, left to tour Japan and then returned again. It's not by accident that on either side of the door to many Zen temples are two fierce looking guardians. The one called Paradox the other Confusion. The point being that to experience enlightenment one must pass through both. It was no secret that I was escaping and seeking refuge. I rationalized that I enjoyed serving so what better place to retire to than amongst people committed to enlightenment? The monastery surpassed my mind's picture of what one should be like. It was exquisitely beautiful and serene. This story takes place one chilly morning. One thing I hadn't counted on, after living 13 years in Hawaii, was the crisp cold mornings atop Mt. Koya. Each morning I'd sit in the sun on a porch overlooking a carp pond. The water trickled down into the pond from a near vertical snow-covered hillside. For me it was quite close to heaven. This particular morning I was doing what I called meditating, and not very good, because I was easily distracted by a gurgling, slurping noise made by some leaves that were stuck in a wire strainer at the edge of the pond. The wire-covered overflow pipe was to prevent the water from getting too high. The sound and activity engaged me as I sat warming myself. I was attempting to Zen the leaves away without success and the noise continued to echo in the amphitheater-like surroundings. I hadn't been there but a few minutes when Happy Heart, that's as close as I could get to the translation of the Zen Master's name, came out. He looked at me and then towards the gurgling noise. Without a word he slowly turned and went back inside. No less than two minutes later two monks came out, took off their sandals, and within seconds they had waded into the frigid water and removed the leaves. The reverence with which they did this task was such that it was clear they were merely giving the leaves another place to play. The two bowed towards me and left and then Happy Heart came out. He looked at me and I looked at him. And though an observer could see that not a word was exchanged, what I experienced was the most profound acknowledgment in my life. It was the first time I had ever been in the presence of what I call greatness or knowingness and not felt as though I had a long way to go. He was there to serve and honor me. I was deeply moved. I wish there was some incredible moral that I could end this story with other than I was there to serve and in turn was validated. I left the monastery shortly thereafter. One of the reasons I left? It has nothing to do with the truth but it's interesting, at least to me. It became clear to me that a Zen Master considers himself to be a success if he can replace himself before he dies. It's not the kind of communication model where there is room for input or change. The system works, to the degree it works. My commitment now is to incorporate the best parts of all the communication models of the world into one universal model, one that we can all drop in to from time to time, especially when it's important that everyone feel good upon completion of a conversation. —by Kerrith H. (Kerry) King Close your browsers window or press the back key to return pump The Water Pump Story Crawling on burnt hands and knees across the blistering hot sand, his throat rasping in searing pain with each seemingly last breath, with only about a day more travel before he reached town, a miner came across a cabin. In the cabin was a rusty water pump. The pump handle was in the up position, as though it was waiting for him. Tied to the handle was a goatskin flask with at least a cup of water in it. Attached to the flask was this note.
The variables seem obvious. Far from any desert, with our thirst quenched, we are able to sit righteously and detached and weigh all the factors. For example, we might think, "It would be stupid to pour the water down a possibly dry well." "What if the washers were so dry that they had cracked and broke?" "I know, I'll drink the bag of water and come back later and replace it." Unbeknownst to the miner there are several fundamental generating principles at work. The miner drinks the bag of water and promises himself to return and leave much more than a small flask. However, he gets bit by a scorpion and dies not 100 yards from town. You see, he dismissed the thought that while he was gone another traveler may have needed the water. What's the purpose of this story here in a web site about communication? Well, (no pun intended) it's about integrity as a communication variable. When something doesn't go as envisioned one can't be certain if it has to do with one's integrity or simply a communication problem until one has eliminated the outcome as being a consequence of an out integrity. "H'mm. lets see. What could this broken agreement be about?" If nothing comes up it's most likely has to do solely about your agreement making skills. For most, the question reveals an incomplete, an unacknowledged perpetration. For example: Take the case of a mechanic "past due" for his monthly house rent payment, who opts for his own survival. The mechanic has valuable tools or a TV that he could sell so that his landlord doesn't have to sell something to meet his own monthly mortgage payment to the bank. But the mechanic thinks, "I'll keep my tools so I can make some money so I can then pay my rent." He doesn't realize that he has had this survivalist philosophy, this ground of being, of his own survival being more important than his word, for many years. All people who file for bankruptcy have this survivalist philosophy. It's what brings about their failure. In the study of communication it's imperative that you study the subject of integrity. Look now to see what your philosophies are.
—by Kerrith H. (Kerry) King Close your browsers window or press the back key to return suicide The Suicide Hot Line Story
Close your browsers window or press the back key to return To Cause or Not to CauseOnce upon a time in the land of Be, where everything is perfect, there lived a young person. We're not sure whether the person was a boy or a girl. Anyway, this person had an amazing talent. Believe it or not they could cause people to do exactly what they were doing. Now you may smile, or even laugh at this unusual ability, but it's true. No matter what someone else was doing, this young magician could snap their fingers and, POW! They could even get adults to do what they were doing. Actually, most of the time it wasn't necessary to do the finger snapping. To tell the truth, it didn't make any "POW" noise either. They just silently intended it. Can you imagine walking down the hallway in school and someone yells at you, "Hey stupid! Yah, you!." And you saying, "Thank you. I knew I could count on you to say that." Or your mother, calling you into the kitchen, and before she can open her mouth you saying, "Yup , I'll go clean my room." Would that blow her mind or what? It was cool. Everywhere this young awesome person went it was the same. In school, with a teacher who was grumpy, they thought, "I wonder why I caused that? I sure did a good job." At other times, in fact quite a lot of the time, they forgot that they could cause what was happening to be happening. For instance, when they got in an argument with their best friend, who wouldn't let them borrow their bike, they'd have to stop the argument and remember that they were causing their friend to be stingy. How can you get mad at someone who's doing what you're intending them to do? Now you may be thinking, Yah, but why would someone cause that? Why would someone cause another person to be stingy? Well, you have to remember they could only cause what was happening to happen. Actually, you have the same ability, this magical power. You can choose to be exactly where you are right now, this moment. Go ahead, choose it, right now. Kind of simple isn't it. Almost silly, yes? Well, it's not so silly when you see two adults arguing. It's easy to see both have forgotten they have the same ability; to stop, listen and intend for the other to say exactly what they are saying. If you want to you can spend a lot of time trying to figure out why something is happening, or why it happened, but it's not necessary. Really! You don't have to figure it out. When the time comes for you to know, you'll know. The answer will magically appear as to why you caused something unpleasant to happen. Until then, just be willing to know that you caused it because you caused it. Here's your opportunity to be magical. The story's about end, would you like to have a shot at intending that? Once you choose to cause what's happening you too get to be magically transported to the land of Be where everything is perfect. —by Kerrith H. (Kerry) King Close your browsers window or press the back key to return The Zen Master Dog-Poop StoryA monk asked his Zen master, "Sir, will you teach me how to manifest my stated intentions." The Zen master said, "Sure. Sit down. I'll show you how to cause a dog to poop on that flat stone in the middle of the yard, on my command. How's that?" The monk said, "Way cool," or something like that. And they sat down. As dusk approached, the novice said, "Sir, I don’t mean to be rude, but you said…." The Zen master said, "Yes. And I will. We’re waiting for a dog to poop on the stone. When it does, I’ll command it to poop." To manifest a stated intention you must begin by intending what's happening to be happening, to choose what’s so to be so. To create something you first must know how to create nothing. Until you know how to create nothing, the space in which something is created, you can't be certain you are creating anything. —by Kerrith H. (Kerry) King parole Close your browsers window or press the back key to return ParoleParole, the First 24-Hours—a story...the motivation behind the
Community Support Group Project. With a clean slate and
within minutes of leaving the correctional facility a parolee, sincerely
believing they are intent on going straight, is usually picked up at the
gate by a spouse, family member, or friend. Quite possibly they are
asked, "Would you like to drive?" They are elated. They accept the offer
and cautiously pull out on to the freeway. The experience of freedom is
exhilarating. Soon they find themselves being passed by those going
faster than the posted limit. They dutifully obey the law resisting the
urge to keep up with the flow. But their passenger says, as though they
are joking, "Hey, you've been inside too long. You're holding up
traffic." The parolee, now trained to follow instructions without
hesitation, unwittingly succumbs to the peer pressure. And so, within
minutes of parole they have been lovingly supported by a true "friend"
in breaking a law, risking a sanction by their parole officer if they
get a speeding ticket. They ask their friend if they can stop off at a book store because they promised their parole officer they would buy a study guide for the upcoming Carpenter Journeyman's Test. The friend says, "Great, I'll treat you to some good coffee at Starbucks." He buys his book and then his friend buys two cups of coffee, sets them on a table, and leads him to the magazine rack. He urges him to pick out a few magazines to read. Not wanting to be a stick-in-the-mud he does as expected, knowing full well that reading without paying is wrong, and that he's ripping off not only the merchant but the distributors and authors. He feels uncomfortable doing it and keeps looking up, expecting, if not a Correctional Officer, possibly a clerk to ask, "May I see your receipt please?" The friend sees his furtive looks and further encourages him, "Relax. Look around. Everyone does it." It doesn't occur to him that Borders is capitalizing on the unethicalness of customers—it ultimately generates more sales. A "Please Browse" sign would support everyone's integrity. The "friend" is totally unaware that twice now they have supported the parolee in resorting to the same behaviors that contributed to his incarceration. Later they will say to others, "Yah, it's too bad. I could tell he was heading back to prison." The parolee then arrives at home and an old friend stops by and asks if he wants to go see some of the guys. He eagerly accepts the invitation. The guys are drinking beer. A few are smoking pot but he refuse both. Everyone laughs but they understand and seemingly accept his decision. However, they keep kidding him, and offering him tokes, trying to assure themselves he's still one of the guys. Later, when a few whom he respects have left the party, he finally has one beer and just two tokes. Later, on the way home, the driver of the car casually mentions that they don't have car insurance. This is a given for perhaps a third of his old friends so it's "no big thing." It's always been that way. The parolee just gets it, unaware of the friend's unethical dump, the unconscious test, to see just how straight the parolee is going to go. Silence assures the perpetrator that the parolee is still the same old accepting friend. At home, sitting around the kitchen table, his mother mentions how helpful his brother has been while he's been away, "He let me claim he lives here so I could get more food stamps and welfare money." Again, silence is complicity. It is unthinkable to say anything about the fraud. It's always been that way, one thing or another. Nothing really serious, but nevertheless, unethical. Each perpetration throughout the day eroded
the experience of wholesome integrity that was there earlier in the
morning. Each complicity having its own consequence. Each perpetration
begs to be acknowledged to prevent compounding consequences. Not having
anyone to clear with, to acknowledge the day's perpetrations, the
parolee falls asleep, but it's not the healthy sleep of a person
committed to integrity. He is neither whole nor complete, "But what the
heck," he mutters to himself dozing off, "nobody else is either." Close your browsers window or press the back key to return A Story About Military Academy ScandalsWith military precision (pun intended) one can count on a military academy scandal every few years. They take turns—the Navy, then a few years later the Army. Lately the Air Force is having its "rape" scandal. What follows is a point of view not reported elsewhere, written by a retired Army airborne infantry officer. For many this is going to be extremely uncomfortable to read. It has to do with responsibility, cause, intention, and communication. Following is an overview of the latest scandal: A female cadet reported that a senior male cadet had raped her, not once but repeatedly throughout the semester. When the female cadet finally reported the incident about 40 other female cadets came forward and said that they also experienced similar, and worse, and repeated treatments by many senior male cadets. The behavior of the male cadets is so reprehensible it makes it difficult to get to responsibility, to cause, in the matter. What has yet to be reported is the out-integrity of each of the "victims" and of the Commandant, the one responsible for communicating and supporting the academy’s code of honor. America’s military academies operate from what’s referred to as the West Point Code of Honor. To paraphrase the code: If a cadet observes another cadet or staff member breaking a rule, the cadet has agreed (pledged his/her word) to confront the rule breaker and ask that he/she report themselves. If the perpetrator refuses to report him/herself they must be told that they leave the observer no choice but to report them; or else, and here’s the biggie, both the perpetrator and the observer will be expelled. So we ask: How can a male upper class man make even sexual overtures, let alone rape in the form of sex-at-my-command (a most heinous misuse of control and power) towards a junior female class man, except with the fear of knowing with absolute certainty that it will be reported? We also ask: If both the victim and the perpetrator are equally bound by the same code of honor what choice does the female have but to handle the infraction (the first leer, the first untoward communication) as pledged by her word of honor? Would she even want to belong to an organization in which, if she reported such intolerable behavior, she was not believed? Did each female cadet not give her word to the Commandant of the Academy that she could be absolutely trusted to support the code? And finally we ask: Who communicated to the male cadets) that such behavior was acceptable? It was—unbeknownst to most everyone—the Commandant himself. How do we know? We know by the results. It was in fact unconsciously communicated nonverbally. Within a few conversations (a three-hour communication consultation) we could discover that the Commandant held (and most likely still holds) unacknowledged biased and sexist views. Now here's the irony. The subject of nonverbal, to include unconscious intentional, communication is not part of any academy's leadership-communication curriculum. It wasn't until I left both the Navy and the Army, and the university education system (see about) that I even heard about the subject of leading-communicating from intention. I first heard about it in the business world as part of the curriculum in advanced sales training. It was not covered at all in any of my BA or MA Speech Communication curriculums. Not even to this day do universities cover such important communication variables as acknowledgement, withholds, integrity, and perpetrations—the variables that a communicologist (communication skills coach) knows with certainty are the root of all communication breakdowns. This leads to the question: Why isn't this advanced communication model taught in our military academies and taught to education majors in universities nationwide? The answer is: A Commandant, Chancellor, University President, and a communicologist, him/herself must operate from impeccable integrity. Few professors/teachers can afford such luxury. Such a person is experienced as a threat to most everyone in today's leadership positions, in part because a student must agree to go absolutely straight, to include cleaning up all messes from cause. In the presence of someone who operates from integrity any out-integrity soon reveals itself. Herein lies (pun not intended) the rub, and the cause of the pattern of the repeating military academy scandals. The code of honor is not communicated. It is not delivered with intention for it to be honored, therefore it’s only understood. It's neither gotten nor recreated.
What’s so is, most academy commandants are stuck somewhere in the process of becoming a leader. What you say? A General is not a leader, they are only trying to be a leader? Yes. The way one can tell that an organization has a leader is that the agreements/rules are co-created and honored. This is because a leader communicates the rules as opposed to "announces them," "put them out," "tells everyone," "informs everyone," "says them," "make them available," etc. Just as a leader inspires integrity so too do subordinates have no choice but to mirror the out-integrity of their leader. An aura of integrity emanates from a leader. A leader can tell from experience if there is a withhold or an unacknowledged perpetration in a relationship. When a relationship starts from integrity any out-integrity is like a "mote in thine eye." It begs to be acknowledged (verbally communicated) and cleared. For example: The majority of parents miss their child’s first lie. Most adults have yet to be acknowledged (caught) for their own first lie. You might ask, why is the change (obvious to an objective observer), from a countenance of innocence to a look of guilt on their child's face, missed by most parents. It’s simply because most parents have so many unacknowledged lies that they have lost their ability to hear another’s. At some point in time most parents lapse into their imitation of communication. Here’s an example of a few minutes of a prospective 36-hour weekend-long leadership-communication skills workshop given at the beginning of each academy year. It would be titled "The Honor Code of Conduct—a communication workshop." It would be facilitated by the Commandant and a non-military communicologist (a communication skills coach). It would include the following:
More about the Air Force's honor code: Here's a headline from the Honolulu Advertiser: (5/15/04) Air Force Academy head takes blame in test cheating scandal. Only a few months later and we see that the Commandant is still using his old leadership communication model. Still recovering from the rape scandal the cadets once again unconsciously draw our attention to the academy's leadership. It's a shame because the source of the problem is not the cadets. Leaders lead and subordinates follow. Like children the cadets are doing exactly what they are supposed to be doing. Most students try to do as little as possible—in this case, study. Leaders know this. Those in the process of becoming leaders (the academy leadership) cannot not tell when a cadet (a subordinate) is jerking them around pretending to play the game. Cadets have absolutely no choice but to mirror the integrity of the leader of the organization. In this case, Lt. General John Rosa, the present Academy Superintendent, is missing the leadership-communication skills it takes to communicate the code of honor. Cheating is a powerful communication of disrespect. It's the only way a cadet has of bringing to the world's attention the fact that something is wrong. In this case the leader has become stuck doing his imitation of communication. The cadets are presently faced with a dilemma, they are bound by oath to support their Commander-in-Chief yet at some level a few hold the belief that something about the U.S. invasion of Iraq is out-integrity. Getting expelled for cheating is ironically the most noble, albeit unconscious, way of getting out of the responsibility of leading men in a battle they don't agree with. A part of an American's psyche is that a man's home is his castle. We just don't assassinate other presidents. There are other ways of communicating that will produce the desired result. —by Kerrith H. (Kerry) King Send us your feedback, corrections, comments, or submit a story to be posted. Other recommended readings, Abuse and Some Thoughts About Spanking.
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