A good friend of mine was driving down the road last week when black smoke began to pour out of his tailpipe, a good indication that all was not well under the hood. His truck sputtered as far as the nearest mechanic, where it died.

How do you think the mechanic diagnosed the problem? I doubt he replaced the exhaust pipe. I’m sure he looked under the truck’s hood. Even I, as one whose mechanical knowledge is severely limited, know that the exhaust pipe coughing black smoke was merely the harbinger of bad news, not the problem’s cause.

I raise this illustration to highlight important considerations for human relationships—particularly when we are committed to helping improve the health of another. We often only recognize and therefore occupy ourselves with symptoms of problems. The symptoms, like the black plume trailing behind my friend’s truck, can be a smoke screen, blocking our view from the core problem.

Our federal government embodies this phenomenon when it channels millions of tax payer dollars into numerous funding streams with the aim to deter particular behaviors: alcohol prevention, drug prevention, obesity prevention and so on. Programs that target behaviors are, by definition, addressing a particular symptom. This does not mean, of course, such programs are indifferent to the causes of such behaviors. And I am not advocating that we only treat the cause and ignore symptoms, many of which are quite harmful. But what’s critical is that the people, programs, and organizations honing in on these behaviors are mindful of the common sources from which these behaviors spring.

We can describe the source in a number of ways: lack of self-worth, negligible future orientation, and the like. Treating the root causes of destructive behavior, which reside at the core of our being, require a deeper human-to-human connection in which trust is the bonding agent. I hope to refresh your resolve and remind you that who you are as a unique person, not the program or protocol you implement, is the most potent element of your work.

Process is to learning what digestion is to eating. Content that people make their own is content that can change their lives. To make our work as meaningful as possible we have to allow time for others to process what we’re discussing. This is exactly like the digestion process by which our bodies break down food and make it something we can use.

I played soccer throughout high school and college. During each high school season we’d gather at a teammate’s house the night before the game. The menu was always the same: spaghetti. In addition to building camaraderie, the high carbohydrate fare helped fuel us up to play the next day. Our bodies required approximately 24 hours to digest the pasta and extract the necessary nutrients.

Imagine playing a soccer game immediately after eating three helpings of spaghetti. Not a pretty thought. (Viewers of The Office should have no problem conjuring an image here.) But sadly this is what many educational approaches amount to–a spaghetti feed/soccer game.

Without process we can’t assume any material we present will be relevant to our listeners. The goal of the process phase is to help others take ownership of the content we present. They do so by strengthening their relationship to the content. Through process we can afford participants the opportunity to more deeply understand and internalize the risks of alcohol, for example, resulting in their truly owning their convictions surrounding alcohol use. This ownership can lead to changed action.

Underlying process is the opportunity for abstract, intangible ideas (think “Just say no”) to be more concrete. As ideas become more concrete they become more real. Then they have power to alter our perception.

It’s great to be working with you to promote meaningful, lasting change.

Send an email to andrewfrobinson@aweber.com to subscribe to future newsletters.

“Development is progressive inhibition,” says Dr. John Mazziota, a UCLA neurologist, referring to the teen years. Teens are learning to inhibit their impulses—but they aren’t yet very adept. The result is the typical troubling behavior we see in adolescents: impulsiveness, mood swings, lack of self-control, and poor judgment. We see this exemplified in teens that participate in so-called high risk, dangerous behaviors such as drinking, smoking, and drug use.

A recent article in Scientific American discusses some noteworthy new findings about the brains of such “high-risk” teens: they begin to form myelin sooner than other teen brains. Simply put, myelin is the outer sheath that covers neurons in the brain. This sheath increases the speed and efficiency of brain activity. Once formed, myelin reduces the plasticity of the brain. The fact that myelin is most abundant in adult brains led the article to state that risk-taking teens possess brains more like those of mature adults.

The article’s conclusion, while logical, seems to me to be truncated. In reflecting on the study’s ramifications, I am inclined to believe that the teens in the study are more prone to taking risks because they possess the gas pedal (myelin) but lack the brakes to inhibit their impulses. Parts of the brain, such as the amygdala, are essential to helping us apply the brakes. These parts are not fully developed in teens. Think of rerouting an interstate through the heart of a metropolitan city and you’ll have an accurate depiction of what the researchers are observing.

These findings also beg the question: From whence does this early onset of myelination stem? The article doesn’t answer, but I can’t help speculating. I suspect myelination in these teens is a self-protective response to adverse experiences—trauma, neglect, abuse, loss. These teens may have had age-inappropriate experiences that forced them to grow up too soon. The pathways they develop for survival are more efficient, but they are also out of sync with the rest of the brain and their overall development.

This research ought to motivate us to help kids and teens grow and develop at a cadence that’s in keeping with natural development. We should treat childhood and adolescence like a wildlife sanctuary. We go, we sit, we watch and delight in what we see. We protect and nurture, rather than endanger. Animals within sanctuaries deserve to exist and relate to themselves and their environment without fear. The same ought to be true for youth. Their preoccupation ought to be how to thrive, not how to merely survive.