Chapter 8, How to Motivate with Connections. The Story of the Time I Flipped Off Antarctica. When I was in high school, I found geography to be an exceptionally boring class. My teacher was awesome. And he did his best to make it interesting, but sometimes there's only so much you can do when it comes to memorizing countries and capitals.

On one fateful Thursday, I was sitting there wriggling around in my tan plastic chair trying to get comfortable when the assignment of the day slid onto the desk in front of me. Apparently, I was expected to label, color code, and memorize all the regions of Antarctica. I don't know if it was a lack of sleep, a still developing teenage brain, or just a general love of all things rebellious, but seeing that seemingly pointless assignment in front of me ignited a spark of defiance.

I scrawled across the top of the page. Dear, Mr. Feingold, if you can provide me with a compelling reason for why I will ever need to know this information in my adult life, then I will do this assignment. I then read Harry Potter for the rest of class and turned in my little declaration of independence at the end.

Not surprisingly, at the end of class the next day, Mr. Feingold stopped me before I left and asked if I could come back to see him at lunchtime. He wanted to have a talk. I felt an icy thrill of fear, but I agreed fearing the worst. Later that day, I walked into his classroom, sat down, and waited in apprehensive silence.

My Antarctica assignment was out on Mr. Feingold's desk, and he sat there looking at me steadily. Then he took a deep breath, smiled, and proceeded to change my life. "You know, I've been thinking a lot about what you wrote here and I think I have an answer to your question for why this is important. Do you want to hear it?" I nodded slowly. "Go for it."

"Thank you. OK. So first of all, you're probably right that memorizing the geography of Antarctica won't make a big difference in your adult life unless you're planning to go on an expedition there someday. However, this is still important, albeit in a more subtle way. I'm assuming you want to have a career someday." I nodded.

"Any particular field?" "I love psychology." "That's awesome. What do you love about it?" That was a long list, so I told him the short and sweet version. "Right on. Well, in the psychology field, you're probably going to need some kind of advanced degree, right?" I nodded again. OK. Then I have some cool stuff to teach you. Mr. Feingold's deep explanation of why Antarctica homework isn't totally pointless.

Part one, The History Lesson. "The US public school system really came into being a little under 200 years ago during the Industrial Age. Then it really picked up speed about 100 years later when child labor laws were passed. Children couldn't work in factories anymore, but many of their parents still did, so all those children needed somewhere to go during the day.

Those that first designed the school system did so with the Industrial mindset of the era. Most children were expected to grow up to become factory workers just like dear old mom and dad. It may or may not have been intentional, but the school system created a factory-like culture in the classroom. There was a strong emphasis placed on rigid routine, strict adherence to certain educational standards, and unquestioning obedience.

Many aspects of that culture still persist to this day. That's where we get the traditional classroom where students sit in rows, keep their heads down, and do their work. It's straightforward and efficient, just like a factory. Because of this underlying cultural bedrock, the system can often get confused about its true purpose, and it frequently places a higher premium on obedience and routine rather than on learning and education."

Part two, Cool Story, Bro. So What? "That means that because of the Industrial way the educational system is designed, it will ask you to do a lot of things you don't necessarily want or need to do. Factories aren't supposed to be fun or flexible. Additionally, if you don't jump through the system's hoops, then because of its rigidity, it will try to prevent you from getting where you want to go.

In other words, if you choose not to do pointless or difficult assignments, such as the Antarctica one, then you risk getting poor grades, another problematic system unto itself, and not graduating high school or not getting your GED. If you don't have one of those certificates plus decent grades, then it's very difficult to get into a good college or even any college.

Society will try to push you into another career path that you may not be as enthusiastic about, like being a truck driver, for example. Oh, and that's not all. If you do choose to go to college, you'll still run into the same problem. You'll be required to take certain general classes that may or may not have anything to do with your future career, but you will still have to take them and pass them if you want the degree that will ultimately allow you to be a psychologist someday, or some other degree-requiring job."

"Are there exceptions to the 'you have to have a degree' rule?" "Absolutely. Some of the most brilliant, knowledgeable, and capable people I've ever met don't even have degrees, and yet they still have successful careers in their field. Yes, even fields like psychology, medicine, or computer science. These individuals are still very educated. They're just self-taught.

In my opinion, that's really the best way to learn. But it seems that most of society is still in the mindset that you have to have a formal degree in order to work in certain fields. If you ever find yourself job hunting as an adult, you will likely have to do battle with that expectation. Of course, you could choose to go the truck driver type of route. That's not a bad path at all.

My dad drove a truck for his entire career, and he's one of the finest men I've ever known. Many trade jobs like that can make really good money, and there's usually a high demand. Ultimately, all of these are valid options, and there are pros and cons to each of them. If you don't want to play by academia's rules, then you don't have to.

There are plenty of other paths in front of you that won't require you to do this Antarctica assignment. To the best of my knowledge, however, the psychology path isn't usually one of them. You don't have to do the assignment if you don't want to. I can't force you. It's just up to you to decide whether or not the psychology path is worth it to you. My only purpose today is to present you with this choice and make sure you fully understand all sides of it. Now the ball's in your court."

Part three, Now What? Now I had a choice to make. In life, each of us will arrive at moments where our desires and priorities conflict. On the one hand, I was principally opposed to the idea of doing pointless things and I greatly preferred comfortable, easy things. I mean, who doesn't?

On the other hand, I was passionate about psychology and helping people and I would really love to be able to do that as a career someday. Near the end of our discussion, Mr. Feingold said something that has burned into my memory. "You have to decide what it is you really want and what you're willing to give up to get it. I don't know the answer to that because that's something you can only decide for yourself."

Was I willing to give up my dreams of being a psychologist in order to be more comfortable and not do homework ever again? Or was I going to bite the bullet and just do the difficult, pointless tasks in order to ultimately achieve my dream? In the end, I chose psychology, and I did the stupid assignment.

Why did this deep explanation work? Let's break it down. One, the Pasteur principle. The microbiologist Louis Pasteur is famous for saying "fortune favors the prepared mind." Sure, Mr. Feingold could have chosen to just dive into our conversation right after class and fly by the seat of his pants, but I'm betting he didn't do that. He obviously thought carefully about what he wanted to say, and he made it personal and specific to me.

By taking time to consider my point of view and thoroughly preparing his argument, he dramatically improved the chances that I would fully understand what it was he was trying to communicate. Granted, he was a history teacher who already knew a lot about the school system, so it's possible he could have pulled it off on the fly. I'll never know for sure.

What I do know for sure is that, for the rest of us, it's a really good idea to do some thinking, preparation, and research prior to initiating your deep explanation discussion. Think about what the other person's questions, concerns, and misunderstandings may be and be prepared to address all of them.

Two, the permission principle. Asking permission is one of the most powerful communication techniques you can use to begin any difficult or substantial conversation. It helps to get buy-in and ensure that the person you're talking to doesn't get blindsided. It also helps to let you know whether or not the person is willing to engage with you. After all, if they're not, then that conversation will be over before it even begins.

Trying to have a conversation with someone who doesn't want to be there is like throwing marshmallows at someone's head and calling that eating. If Mr. Feingold had just launched immediately into his lecture, I might have gotten defensive or tuned him out. Asking for my explicit buy-in showed respect and created an atmosphere of safety and consideration.

Three, the oxygen principle. To modify a quote from Robert Ingersoll, what air is to the lungs, listening is to the soul. We all have a need to feel heard, validated, and understood. Until your conversation counterpart feels like you have truly heard and understood them, then they will have a difficult time relaxing and listening to what you have to say.

Normally, I recommend starting into your deep explanation by asking questions, gathering more information, and giving the other person the opportunity to talk first. Then you validate and summarize back what they've just said. To be fair, Feingold mostly rushed through that first step. Although technically I still got to talk first, I had already made my feelings about Antarctica homework pretty clear in my sassy note.

Instead, Feingold spent a lot of time acknowledging what was valid about my perspective, questions, and upset feelings with phrases like, you're right. You probably don't need to know this. And, the school system is not efficient because it requires you to jump through pointless hoops.

Four, the connection principle. When I was a teenager, I was deep into fence mode and I rarely brushed my teeth. My parents tried for years to explain that grimy teeth equal cavities, but I guess that natural consequence just didn't resonate with me. What did finally hit home was a dating advice website I stumbled across which informed me that the number-one turnoff for girls was bad breath.

The timing of this information was fortuitous because I had just recently learned that the girl I had a crush on actually liked me back. Gasp. Suddenly like magic, I had all the motivation in the world and I started brushing my teeth religiously. I had finally made the connection between dental hygiene and something-- or, rather, someone-- I genuinely cared about.

As a result, I found the inner drive I had been missing for so long. Making new connections is the key to growing motivation for otherwise undesirable tasks, and the best way I know of to do that is education. You need to help them connect all the dots and give them any dots they might be missing.

Mr. Feingold helped me see the clear, step-by-step connection between the Antarctica assignment-- something I didn't care at all about-- and my dreams of being a psychologist-- something I cared about deeply. By doing that, he empowered me to draw motivation from that source and apply it to the assignment.

Five, the clarity principle. I'm sure you've heard that, when it comes to goal setting, the more vividly you can envision where you're trying to go and how you'll get there, the more likely it is that you will succeed. Well, it may be cliche, but it's true, and the same principle applies here. When helping someone with Asperger's to make a new connection, you will need an incredible amount of detail and specificity. They must be able to see a clear and complete logical path between the task at hand and what they truly want.

Mr. Feingold wasn't content with broad generalizations, such as, if you don't get good grades, then you won't have a successful career. He walked me through step by detailed step exactly how A connects to B, B to C, and so on. When you're going through this process with your child, it's really important that you don't inadvertently skip a step.

Remember the curse of knowledge? Be aware of your own unconscious bias and remember that what is obvious to you might be completely foreign to them. Avoid assumptions, ask questions, and be prepared to possibly spend some time digging into the details of a single idea until you find the missing piece where it all clicks.

Six, the choice principle. There's an outstanding gentleman by the name of Mauricio Delgado, who's done some exciting research out at Pittsburgh University. He's most interested in what exactly causes motivation and what that looks like in the brain. The experiment itself was simple-- participants were invited into his lab and were told they would be climbing into a brain scanner and playing a game for as long as they desired. They were free to leave at any time.

As each person slid into Delgado's trusty fMRI machine-- functional magnetic resonance imaging-- they found themselves staring at a blank white screen. To say the game was boring would be an understatement. A number between one and nine would flash on the screen, and the participant could press one of two buttons indicating whether they thought the next number that flashed would be higher or lower than five. That's it. Rinse and repeat.

Meanwhile, Delgado-- seated in the other room-- would watch what happened inside their brain. You would think that, with such a simplistic challenge, people would be bored out of their minds; and since there was no expectation to stay, would soon leave once they felt they had done the minimum amount of guesses they felt socially obligated to do.

Delgado found the opposite to be true. With each round of guessing, participants had a little burst of activity in their striatum-- a part of the brain associated with excitement and anticipation. Instead of being bored, they were hooked. Some participants would even play for hours.

Apparently, the thrill of guessing right and the disappointment of guessing wrong was slightly addicting. Delgado then set up another version of the experiment. This time around, the participant would get to make a guess. And then for the next round, the computer would just guess for them as they watched. The participant then got to guess again, and so on.

The results? On the times that the computer took over, there was zero striatal activity. None. As soon as you took away their ability to choose and make all decisions, all enjoyment of the activity-- read as motivation-- evaporated. My old teacher, Dr. Feingold, seemed to have intuitively understood the powerful truth that we've spent a large number of these pages talking about-- when you perceive choice, you perceive motivation.

So he didn't tell me what to do. He only gave me choices and information. That's it. As soon as he did that, I automatically took ownership of whatever happened next. I'm sure Feingold knew that, given his position of authority, with enough control, rewards, and punishments, he probably could have gotten me to do the Antarctica assignment.

But he didn't. He saw the bigger picture. He saw that the only way for me to succeed in school and in life as a whole was for me to decide to do that for myself. Review. Section 3, Desire. Bullet Point Recap. For motivation to exist, choice must exist too.

Choices can be presented in three formats-- open ended, multiple choice, and hard line. There are rare and extreme circumstances where control is indeed necessary. Everyday situations, such as asking your child to do chores, don't qualify. Use your best judgment. Desire and motivation for a task can be stoked by making a clear emotional connection between what they have to do and what they want to do-- i.e., a result that's important to them.

New connections can be made through education in a deep explanation conversation. When initiating a deep explanation conversation, consider the other person's perspective and carefully prepare your argument beforehand. Avoid the curse of knowledge, and don't skip over any steps when making that connection, however obvious they may seem to you. The connection must be solid and complete for it to work.

Always ask permission before initiating a difficult conversation. Listen, ask questions, and validate the other person's perspective before trying to make your own point of view known. In the end, one's innate autonomy is always intact. They can choose to say no, accepting and fully understanding the consequences.