Sugar before the medicine goes down.

Once upon a time, having returned from the Peace Corps in Micronesia, trying to find my footing back in the U.S., I took a job as a live-in nanny for three boys and their parents. Little did I know that being a nanny would weave its way metaphorically into my life as an Executive Coach years later.

How so? Well, one day, as I was coaching a group of high-level executives at renowned Ivy League business school, and in a moment of what felt like improvised brilliance, I told them when it came to giving them feedback, I’d be using the philosophy of the fictitious nanny Mary Poppins: I’d be delivering them a “spoonful of sugar before the medicine goes down.”

So much for my improvised brilliance — it was a culturally diverse group. I had to do a bit of backtracking by explaining to them the badassery of Mary Poppins. (Cultural awareness duly noted — not all of my personal references translate in the classroom, nor does the word badassery work for all clientele.)

Since then, I’ve gone on to coin this phrase in more and more coaching sessions and provide the appropriate background on Mary Poppins.

This feedback methodology was a slow-growing evolution, peppered with moments of personal learning and unlearning, that ultimately led me to some great epiphanies:

1. I’ve spent years in the performing arts where a great many directors, often because time is of the essence, or it was presumed since I was good enough to get cast in the role in the first place (aka — in the corporate sector — I got the job) it seemed reasonable to assume I also know I am “good” throughout the entire directorial/coaching process. Any further sugar was therefore deemed unnecessary, and medicine alone is what I was given. Praise, I was led to believe, would come later from the audience or in the reviews. I will add here my own desire to be the best also got in my way* (See bullet point #2). The point is — somewhere along the way, I trained myself out of hearing a compliment. The epiphany came when I realized how much I appreciate it when people honestly say what I have done well. In fact, I hear and receive the critical/medicinal remarks better when I know I have hit the mark on at least a few things. I realize now that a gracious open acceptance of compliments on my part sets me up for greater success. Not only does it affirm the work I have put in thus far — it also confirms I trust the perception of the person who is directing or coaching me. So much so that now I openly tell people when giving me feedback, I want the sugar first. Just a spoonful will do.
2. My second epiphany: I lean toward being a perfectionist, and I often don’t hear another’s praise because my own inner coach is hard at work giving me her own dose of medicine. I also possess a weird superstition around receiving praise — meaning if someone tells me I am doing well, I will lose the mojo I had because I am now aware of the mojo. To be perfectly honest, sometimes I do lose the mojo in that first rehearsal after receiving praise. It isn’t, however, from the praise I was given, or necessarily from lack of humility on my part thinking how awesome I am. No…it’s because, after any feedback, positive or negative, I tend to step into a state of hyper-awareness. Therefore, I have to rehearse a few times to get back into flow — and get my mojo risin’ again — as I incorporate all the feedback.
3. Lastly — (duh) Not everyone is like me. There is the golden rule: Do unto others as you’d have them do unto you. Then there is the platinum rule: Do unto others as they wish to be done unto — as a coach if someone really insists on no sugar, and intuitively I am in agreement, I’ll give them the medicine when they ask for it. In addition to it, I also ask them to reflect on where the resistance to the sugar/praise stems from. It’s a worthy thing to reflect on because there is a chance they actually are like me, and epiphany is possible for them too: While the metaphorical medicine is healing, so too is the fine art of receiving a compliment and taking ownership of what you are doing well.

If it isn’t already clear — it’s taken some unlearning for me to embrace this philosophy. If you ever work with me, know this — I’ll be aiming to give you a little sugar, followed by the medicine because as a participant once pointed out to me, the actual quote is:

A spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down…in the most delightful way.

For my money, learning (or unlearning as the case may be) is far more palatable and potent when paired with moments of levity and (de)light.