For many of the young people in the program where I work, one of the formal goals that forms part of the forest of paperwork about them is “Learn to say “Okay.'” What that means in practical terms is fairly simple: many of them are unable to accept criticism — broadly defined as anything even apparently critical of them or their actions — of any kind from adults.

A scenario from not so long ago illustrates how many things are going on that can make it difficult for someone just to say, “Okay.”

Two boys, in class, are doing something disruptive. Fidgeting with something, throwing it back and forth (maybe a jacket?) or something. I couldn’t see clearly what it was, but it caught my attention and I deemed it a distraction.

“Hey, guys, stop doing that, please.”

“Doing what?” one asks simultaneously with the other’s plea of innocence: “I wasn’t doin’ nothin’!”

Now it really doesn’t matter what they were doing. It really doesn’t matter if they were doing anything at all. The best response to bring the whole exchange to an end, to prevent it from escalating into something more serious, to ensure not getting into trouble, is to say, “Okay.”

“If you have a problem with that,” we tell them, “you can talk to the teacher afterward. If you don’t know exactly what the teacher is asking you to do, you can ask for clarification after saying “Okay.’ But getting defensive, taking it personally, exaggerating it into a personal affront will only make the situation worse.”

And so going back to the above scenario, I reminding the boys that one of the skills they’re working on is simply saying “Okay” and moving on.

“I ain’t sayin’ “Okay’ to something I didn’t do!” one replied indignantly.

“Why not?” I asked. “In saying “okay’ you’re not admitting to guilt. You’re not doing anything other than acknowledging that you heard and understood what the person in authority — be it a teacher or not — is saying.”

“But I didn’t do nothin’!” he protested.

“But that doesn’t matter.” I responded. “In protesting it, particularly in the manner you’re doing now, you’re not doing anything to help your situation.”

“Are you telling me that if someone accused you of doing something”

“Whoa, wait — I’m not accusing you of doing anything. I simply asked you both to stop. If you weren’t doing anything, then clearly I wasn’t talking to you. Even if I was addressing you alone and said “Stop doing that” and you were behaving perfectly, the best response is to say, “Okay’ and move on.”

“Move on?! You’re the one making an issue of this” he said, voice pitching upward into a virtual screech, eyebrows raised just enough to say — inadvertently or purposely — “You’re an idiot for saying that.

“No, I’m using this moment to remind you of a skill you’re working on and to try to get you to practice it.”

The boy couldn’t accept that saying “Okay” even if you’re completely innocent is anything more than an admission of guilt. And to prove his point, he brings up a most fascinating example: “So you’re sayin’ that if you walking down a street and cops come up to you and say, “You look like this guy who just robbed a bank,’ and arrested you, that you’d just say, “‘Okay.'”

The discussion is starting to get less and less productive as we range farther and farther off topic. Or are we off topic? Is this how the boy equates all these things? I decide to play along.

“Yes, I would. Or at least I hope I’d have a cool enough head to say that.”

“But you didn’t do it. Are you saying that if they said, “You robbed this bank,’ that you’d just say nothing, that you wouldn’t tell them you’re innocent? They’ll take you to jail and what — you’ll end up spending ten years in jail for something you didn’t do?!”

Right here, though I suspected it moments earlier, I realize the young man didn’t have a firm grasp on the workings of our criminal justice system. And another thing begins dawning — we’re really getting off track. Does this help the young man understand the situation? Is he just trying, like so many of the boys do, to get me so wrapped up in a discussion argument exchange that it’s just a matter of whoosh! blink! and the whole class is over? I decide, somewhat against my better judgment, to continue.

“Just because they arrest me doesn’t mean I’ll be spending ten years in jail. There’s a trial first, and in the meantime, I can be released on bail. But think of what they say, what you hear on TV, every time they arrest someone.” Almost together we recite the Miranda warning. Then I continue, “Now if I’m an idiot, I’ll start blathering on about how I’m innocent and how I didn’t do anything and then, in court, that will be used against me, because the irony is, it makes me look guilty. If I’m smart, I’ll shut my trap completely until I can get a lawyer.”

“But if you didn’t do nothin'””

“Especially if I hadn’t done anything,” I replied.

Finally things are winding down, and a boy enters from the other group.

“Hey, Mr. S, let’s ask him if he’d just say “okay.’ ‘Eric, if someone framed you.'”

And now everything is mixed up. Nothing is as it started. We’re no longer talking about whether or not saying “okay” helps you in a situation even if the request is relatively arbitrary; we’re no longer talking about whether or not saying “okay” is an admission of guilt — we’ve moved off into the netherworlds of arbitrary, six-sixty-degrees-of-separation tangents that suck up time and accomplish nothing.

Or is it simply that he doesn’t understand what I mean? Are all these scenarios that we’ve been bouncing off of each other identical to him?

In the end, he simply says, “Well, if that’s a skill, I guess it’s a skill I won’t use.”

And I think, “Okay — we’ll try again tomorrow.”