The Helper's Fine Line: Story and Reflection

I usually received good grades and positive comments on my report cards as a kid. However, I received one remark from my first-grade teacher that I wasn't sure how to take. She wrote, "Tonya is sometimes too helpful to her neighbors."

Being helpful is good, right?

I mean, Dawn was struggling with her math, and I had counting to 100 by 10s down pat—so I just wrote the answers on her paper. Problem solved, right? And when I heard Brian struggling with sounding out a word, I'd just tell him what the whole sentence said.

Looking back, it’s funny to realize that I completely missed the point: They needed to go through the process of learning. And yet, that instinct to help—even when it’s not actually helpful—sticks with a lot of us well into adulthood.

I see this all the time in coaching.

It's normal and appropriate for senior residents to accompany their interns to the ER at times for a new admission. Their reasons vary:

• "I'll just lay eyes on the patient and ensure they're appropriate for an intern to see and workup."
• “It was clear that the patient needed all of us urgently.”
• “It’s just faster, and we have too much going on.”
• But lately, I hear more of: “I just want to be a good senior. I don’t want them to feel alone.”

The intention is kind. And in the first few cases or even in certain circumstances, I think it can be very supportive. However in their eagerness to help, they sometimes forget that a little discomfort—theirs and the intern’s—is part of learning. That discomfort of really thinking through a clinical issue independently, looking things up, figuring it out, making an assessment and plan is what builds the "mental muscle," decision-making skills, and the ability to navigate complex situations independently.

And it’s not just residents. Some faculty are helicopter faculty to their residents. Colleagues do it with each other. Many of us naturally slip into rescuer mode, often without even realizing it. Not only can it rob the other person of gaining independence, it reinforces a negative loop. The rescuer doesn't think they can, so they don't let them, and the learner never grows in self-efficacy and can never demonstrate growth.

(Imagine if no one ever let us steer the wheel by ourselves when learning to drive).

A Moment to Pause

Next time you feel that pull to step in, try this:

• Ask yourself why. Are you helping because it’s truly needed, or because you feel uncomfortable watching someone struggle? If you don't believe they can do it, what's the evidence? What can you allow them to do?
• Consider the cost. Are you providing guidance, or are you robbing someone of a valuable learning moment?
• Leave room for your own work. You have enough to do in your various roles already. Over-helping can lead to burnout—yours and theirs.

Helping isn’t bad. But helping too much can be. Sometimes, the best way to support someone is to let them figure it out on their own.

What’s one time when stepping back turned out to be the most helpful thing you could do for someone?

In what situation are you now thankful that someone stepped back to allow you grow?

Explain the reasons, set some expectations and how you'll signal each other that support is needed.