High-fives & Hitting Deadlines

We are all aware of the corpus of education and psychology research which tells us that affirming effort, reinforcing good behavior, and keeping feedback constructive leads to much stronger results than scolding or showing frustration. That frustratedly asking, “But why didn’t you finish it? It’s in the list!”, is counterproductive.

I’m not sure what motivated the change this year, but the feeling was strong from the start; this year will be a positive one! For me, for you, for anyone who gets in my way – PMA all the way! Yes I’m cringing as I write these words. In past years, as deadlines crept closer, tones got tighter, reminders got sharper, emails more direct. I probably would have framed them as “realistic”. And every year, a chunk of kids go quiet right when they most need to dig deep, to make a big push on an important draft, to ask me questions, to engage. October is… tough. I love my job, but herding a cohort of teens across a stressful finish-line in concert with parents’ sometimes-counterproductive questions and friend’s terrible advice… it is not easy. I didn’t have the emotional energy for another fall like that. So without fully deciding to in any sort of a conscious way, I swung the pendulum: I went absurdly positive.

Have you ever made a teenager give you a Zoom high-five? I have. I wrote emails with greetings like “Bao oiiiiii it’s time to WRITE!!!!”. I use emojis in emails and messages now like an absolute lunatic (the dancing lady is my #1). I think I said “I’m proud of you” to each of them weekly. Messed up? I explained why it mattered, then it’s solution and moving on time. “Forgot to submit? If you make sure to update your spreadsheet in the D/E/F column tonight; we’ll push the submission to tomorrow.” Then when they do that thing? “YES you’re BACK let’s GET IT DONE.”

Was it easy? Change is rarely smooth sailing. There was a day when one teen said he didn’t know something was due October 15th (it was in 23 separate emails with a little ⏰ next to it). “Oh I don’t read your emails; I just download the file.” Deep breath in, and out… Did I finish that call and place my head on the cold stone of my desk, and have a moment? Maybe. But I chose this work, and these 17-year-olds…phenomenal little messes learning who they are… deserve at least one adult who can reset, keep the progress-focused mood on track.

Here’s my fun realization now that the entire cohort of them have submitted their Early Action November 1st schools on October 15th: I’ve never had a deadline go this smoothly. Ever. My “PMA the hell out of this” experiment worked, almost annoyingly well.

I noticed it in August. Fewer students ghosted. More owned the slip in real time and re-engaged. They were tired and stressed, I was tired and stressed, but it turns out telling someone you’re really-f.ing-proud of them at that moment makes both of you feel good. The vibe felt reinforcing even while the logistics stayed intense.

Even when they had exams and SATs on top of essay deadlines.

Even when I clocked 14 hour days.

Here’s another fun realization, we’re all in this together. The feedback loop includes not only them, but me, even you… should you still be in the way.

Things I did to protect my peace were also quietly meeting students’ psychological needs – it’s possible we have the same needs, who knew! When I explained the why behind a task and offered a concrete, doable next step, I wasn’t just being nice; I was supporting their sense of autonomy and competence. When I told a student, “You caught the missing transcript and fixed it ahead of the deadline—that’s the kind of systems thinking that keeps you on track,” I was giving process-focused praise that tells the brain exactly which behavior to repeat. When I let the exclamation points go WILD in my email responses confirming receipt of their essay draft, I was deliberately dialing up positive affect and collective efficacy, basically broadcasting “you can DO THIS,” which lifts mood and momentum and, the more we hear it and say it to each other, the more we all believe it. When I didn’t get annoyed by a forgotten deadline or a slept-through meeting I wasn’t avoiding accountability; I was developing their perspective, just enough for them to see a path back after a mistake. There are definitely some people who roll their eyes at all the sunshine (I had a moment or two myself), but having someone be unequivocally proud of you does a lot, and I watched some of my quieter teens blossom under it, responding in kind, making jokes about the exhaustion, and messaging me to celebrate small wins (that teacher finally submitted a rec letter, that weird paragraph finally conquered). Careful/clear expectations + “Let’s. Freaking. Do. This!!!!!”  turned out to be a tiny bit infectious. Less frustration for me. No shame spirals for them.

Name the clear goal. Explain so they buy in. Ask for their take. Discuss a small, specific next action, or recommend one if they’re stuck. Make a clear trade when they’ve slipped, and then instead of reiterating the slip, high-five them for completing their part. Celebrate the step they just took, however small, not the organization or writing skills I wish they had. Keep the spreadsheet, the timeline, the checklist, at the center so structure is never in doubt. Move past blunders without grudges. I started doing that because it lowered my stress. The evidence says it also builds ownership, resilience, and follow-through.

As I… rest my head on the cold stone desk, or stand next to the espresso machine staring into the crema of my 4th espresso for the day… I also learned why this doesn’t collapse under real pressure. Positivity on its own is noise; structure on its own is judgment. Together, they create traction. The praise has to be tied to the exact behavior we want repeated, but that behavior can be small. Attainable. “Ummmm Minh that email was super professionally written.” Or “Duc your “why major” essay was SO convincing this draft!” The expectations and deadline have to stay clear. The “deal” after a miss must be concrete and near-term, or it turns into a vague promise. Those weren’t research insights I started with; they were patterns I saw working, later explained by research.

Ten years in, I’m still learning. They’re operating with only a partially developed prefrontal cortex and somehow managing a full academic workload, college applications, and the existential weight of being seventeen. So I guess from now on what they get from me is space, grace, and 💛💪🥳 emojis.