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Real-life advice for frazzled, frustrated families. Lisa Lane Filholm shares frank and funny observations from her time in the trenches otherwise known as high-school English class.
Check out this piece in YOUR TEEN MAGAZINE, a wonderful resource for parents of adolescent people! Share with friends whose kids are starting to turn on them (remember, this whole phase of life sneaks up on most of us. A good reminder that you're not crazy: teenagers act their age).
Well-meaning parents sell their teenagers short by sticking labels on them. Teachers know the power of the Pygmalion Effect and its ugly cousin the Golem Effect, the blessing/curse of self-fulfilling prophesy in the classroom. Generations of research has shown teachers perform differently with students for whom they have high expectations. They are better teachers--and the classroom climate is more productive--for these students than those for whom they have low expectations. Parents who label can unwittingly set the bar low and negatively influence a teacher's first impressions of their child. (Likewise coaches, tutors and other adults.)
Often teachers receive emails--from parents, tutors, mentors or other specialists--detailing the learning challenges their student faces and the modifications needed for her to prosper in school. Some of these emails, of course, contain physical, emotional and processing requirements which teachers must follow to the letter (and to the law). Many times, though, the information creates a slight and unnecessary Golem Effect between the teacher and the kid in question.
Parents seeking to protect their children from the overwhelming world of high school (or varsity baseball, or any new and scary situation) drop 'helpful hints' to adults about their child's social or physical awkwardness, difficulties paying attention, or test-taking challenges. Time and again, these comments do not resemble the child who shows up to class. I think parents do better when they let teachers discover who their children are; even better, parents who listen to a teacher's perspective can gain valuable insights.
Reportedly 'shy' teenagers might hold animated conversations in the classroom. The student with chronic dyslexia might prove herself a savant--and the envy of her peers--when it comes to diagramming sentences. The perennial "behavior problem" may act gentle as a lamb for a teacher who recognizes his innate ability to translate diction into tone. On the other hand, the former bookworm may delight in devising creative ways to cause pandemonium in Biology class. Your darling angel may, indeed, be leaving campus at lunch to smoke weed in the park. The truth hurts, but we fail our children when we don't listen to it and act accordingly.
Believe it or not, teachers want every student to win, to "get it," to score well on the final, to care deeply about learning. When teachers meet a new class, we are excited to discover the possibilities and potential of our new students. Every time we grade a stack of tests, we root for each kid to hit it out of the park. We feel like superheroes when they do well; we sadly blame ourselves when it goes otherwise. Parents with the best intentions can temper a teacher's goodwill toward a student with outdated, inaccurate, or limiting labels. When teachers describe our kids to us, parents do best to listen.
Standing in lines all afternoon may seem obsolete in this age of 24-hour access to the gradebook, but conferences are a great resource for parents who want to KNOW their teenagers. Go. I urge you. Go; open your ears and your heart. I promise you, teachers can give us valuable information about our children. Try to bite your tongue and tell teachers less about your kids. Try to listen instead, to stories about who your children really are--how they act, what they say, who influences them--and let this new knowledge help you see your adolescents with new eyes.
A re-post from last year . . . because the message endures. Happy holidays, friends, whichever you celebrate. At these times especially I am grateful for the village helping us raise our kids.
Oh, the tyranny of the holiday season! Every crazy bit of it is amplified when teenagers live in the house. This year--inspired by my friend Deanna, a fierce single mama whose darling daughter is a freshman in high school--I'm shopping for my teenagers at Goodwill and in my mother-in-law's attic. Why am I putting a bag of dingy old silver tableware under the Christmas tree? Read all about it! Also, feel free to adapt the idea for your own purposes. (Note: this stroke of gift-giving brilliance would likewise be perfect for a Bar or Bat Mitzvah, the first day of seventh grade or indeed a baby gift for new parents.)
I’ve spent the last few weeks rummaging through estate sales, collecting a bunch of mismatched, past-their-prime spoons, forks, pitchers and tea trays. Most are merely plated; all are blackened with age and neglect. If a piece was sticky with grime, I snapped it up with special enthusiasm. Each piece--with a cloth and a lot of care--can be polished back into beautiful shape. And herein lies the best part of this gift for teenagers.
The adolescent years are rough for everyone, marked by conflict and confusion.All of it—the drama, the struggle, the strife, the fighting amongst the family—is as normal as it is awful. Our children are going to rebel. They're going to do stupid stuff. It's their job. Until further notice, we’re going to be at war with each other at least some of the time.
Teenager Time-Outs: The Gift of Pause
From now on, when my teenager and I are engaged in daily battle and I think we need a break, he will sit in silence and polish one piece of silver until it shines. The few minutes my child spends with a polishing cloth in his hands will give us both time to pause. In our too-busy, too-noisy world, a moment of silver silence is golden, indeed. Disengaging from conflict can be the most powerful (but difficult) course of action. When our children were little we gave time-outs: a chance to spend some quiet time alone, to calm down, to adjust behavior and then return to the demands of real life. Teenagers need time-outs, too. We all do. (For silver-polishing tips, consult this expert advice.)
Silverware—decorative and practical, a tool so basic we might take it for granted—requires maintenance. Like all things of value (including personal relationships), good silver must be cared for and tended. The symbolism is apt: every day of our lives, we must face our responsibilities. When we practice daily habits of exercise and sound nutrition we reap the rewards of good health. When we maintain our possessions and relationships we invest in their working futures. It’s a chore, maintaining a house and vehicles and families and careers. But it’s unavoidable and it’s worth it. I hope restoring this silver--piece by piece--will instill in our boys the importance of maintenance. I hope their adult selves will view daily habits and maintenance as necessary, meditative and fulfilling. As I say so often our kids no longer pay attention: Life is hard, but worth it.
Polishing the Silver: We ALL Shine on!
Sterling silver, a soft metal, has a “living finish,” highly reactive and susceptible to air, moisture and other common irritants. The other metals (especially copper) in sterling react and oxidize, forming an uneven, dark tarnish. Without frequent use and proper care, silver loses its original luster and can become completely covered in black. The tarnish, however, forms only on the surface. As a matter of fact, the layer of tarnish protects and preserves the silver underneath.
The analogies between silver and our real lives seem endless! Like sterling, we human beings are highly reactive and sensitive to irritants. We get covered in decay; we lose our original luster; we develop a layer of dinginess to protect ourselves from our environment. And yet all the tarnish in the world cannot damage our beautiful insides. The metaphor continues: like silver, there is always hope, for all of us: with a little attention and elbow-grease, the tarnish can be polished right off. We can be restored! We can shine again, as brilliantly as we ever did! We live in hope. (Also, silver gets better and more gorgeous with age as it develops a prized golden sheen; don’t even get me started about the symbolism of wisdom and imperfect beauty in middle age . . . .)
We will tuck something like this letter in with our dubious gift. Feel free to steal any part of it that makes sense to you.
Someday--in that distant future my husband and I see with our most optimistic eyes--these adopted heirlooms may grace the tables of our grown-up children. Perhaps as we break bread together we will feel forgiven for our parenting mistakes and adolescent rebellion. Maybe we will tell stories to the next generation: of crazy teenage antics and difficult family times, of epic arguments that now seem silly, of taking time to pause and reflect in order to survive the storms of adolescence. When our future grandchildren get poisoned by hormones and turn against their parents, maybe they will carry on the tradition of taking time out to polish the silver. With any luck, the values of maintenance and working with purpose—brought to life in our sons and their families—will be our greatest legacy.
As the holidays loom, we can all use a reminder of how important it is to force family fun with truculent adolescents. Read my post about it here.
You may also enjoy this post about the importance of time-outs for PARENTS!
And for a dose of schadenfreude as you strike family holiday poses, check out this botched attempt at my own family's picture-perfect moment.
To book me for your parent, school or church group (words of wisdom and belly-laughs for frazzled families), contact me.
When it seems like everything is spinning out of control--a sensation often enhanced by the holidays or, say, a nasty political season--I remember something my friend Kevin said to me back in our crazy and confusing twenties.
In the aftermath of a real disaster, when pundits were spitting opinions and the media were whipped into a frenzy, Kevin and I took a long walk through the Lower East Side. Amidst the decadent, unholy filth of the New York streets we dearly loved, we discussed one of our mutual favorite Bible verses. We were both kids raised Catholic, in the midst of our adolescent rebellion, riding the high-horse of defiance, stupidity and good intentions. It's still funny to me that we turned to the Gospel of Luke for inspiration. We both loved the line, "Mary kept these things and pondered them in her heart." Such a humble but appropriate response to the mind-blowing events of the Nativity story! When Big Things happen, we said as we meandered past tattoo joints and head shops and drag queens, it seems best not to make sense of anything immediately. It seems right to ponder. To listen to other points of view. To speak softly and open hearts and minds and--as the Blessed Mother instructs in a far different narrative, written by far different prophets--to let it be.
And then Kevin, who really was wiser than his years and who had a flair for dramatic storytelling (and who is now a super-successful theatre director of whom I am endlessly proud!) uttered--nay, exclaimed! hollered!--the line that really sticks with me all these years later. Mary pondered these things in her heart, we agreed, and, "if it's good enough for the mother of Our Lord and Saviour, then damnit, it's good enough for me!"
And may it be good enough for me. And for all of us. In the midst of chaos--whatever causes it--may we breathe and ponder and give things time and let it be. In the midst of raising our teenagers, as I remind you again and again, it's vital to step back and ask, "Do I KNOW what's going on? Must I PROTECT my child from real and present danger? Can I HONOR my teenager's unique journey toward adulthood?"
But sometimes, it's also okay to ponder and let answers (or inspiration) come. To forgive ourselves for imperfect days and to pray for better ones. To express gratitude for all that's good and to let things be for now.
Happy Thanksgiving, everybody. We all shine on (like the moon and the stars and the sun)!
Luke 2:19
The best shelter from the adolescent storm--and the craziness of the whole wide world--is a brain that works. Here, in observance of election day 2016, is a truncated version of a previous post (and chapter from the upcoming book!) on why it's vital to help our kids learn how to think. #VOTE2016
Our almost-adults will soon be making decisions about where they spend their money, whom they support in elections, and how they conduct themselves in the wide, weird world. Our parental, teaching, and grown-up decree is to give them shelter from the storms threatening to blow them off-course.
So we diagram sentences. We learn the rules of syntax. We write formulaically in the classroom until we can prove a thesis with air-tight precision. It's brutal work, but the minds of our future adults are worth the struggle. When they know how to defend a logical argument of their own (which begins with knowing how to craft a smart sentence), students are more capable of recognizing the fallacies in the arguments aimed squarely at them.
The forces threatening our teenagers--and all of us--are too many to fathom. Nary a parent I know would argue against the importance of fortifying our children's inner strength in the face of all the evils in the world. That strength--that ability to make sound, responsible decisions--begins and ends with understanding the messages we receive and interpreting them wisely.
Let us give our teenagers the shelter of strong backbones and critical minds. The study of rhetoric--which starts with grammar and embraces logical argument--is an excellent place to start.
See you in English class!
In response to several recent conversations (with several friends, raising several unique and challenging pre-teens), I've decided to re-visit an earlier post. Please join me in remembering: we're new at this. We're not alone. It's important to laugh at ourselves.
Lately I've been pondering the first lines of Leo Tolstoy's Anna Karenina: "All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way."
Maybe it's true. Maybe we are unique and set apart from one another by our struggles and strife. But these days, I doubt it. I gotta take issue with old Leo, now that I am part of my own struggling family.
Perhaps the details of each family's challenges are unique, but in the grand scheme of things, raising a family is hard for everyone. Few parents of teenagers escape unscathed. Most of the time, I feel like my crazy family is unique and isolated and messed-up in ways no one else will understand. And that's depressing, y'all.
We Are Not Alone: Seek Wisdom from Others
As promised, I am seeking wisdom from every source available. Most of all, other parents. Together, we can make sense of things. Every time I consult a parent of older children, I am comforted. Their wisdom--and their distance from the acute insanity of living with adolescents--gives me hope. They say thinks like, "Oh, please," and "That's nothin'" and they laugh (out loud) at my petty concerns.
One of the fine people offering me comfort today is reader and mother of real-life grown-ups Karen Dawson Haag. In response to my post yesterday, she offered this parenting gem:
"I had an a-ha moment when raising my oldest. One day, my teenager and I were having an argument about who-knows-what. I suddenly said, "Hey! This is the first time I've raised a child and you have to cut me some slack."
That broke the mood and we laughed. Sometimes, just telling your kids that you have fears, you don't know what you're doing, you love them and think you're looking out for them, and you're open to hearing their ideas made all the difference for us.
Now, we both say, Hey! This is the first time I've done this. Help me."
Here is some real wisdom. The inestimable Brene Brown teaches us about the gifts of "imperfect parenting" and the importance of vulnerability. What a gift Karen gave her teenagers when she admitted she didn't know what she was doing! When parents admit we are struggling, when we reveal our weaknesses, when we ask for forgiveness, we invite our children into the Truth. As always, it's a balance: we need to remain strong and assure them we--the adults--will protect them, but we gain their trust when we also tell them we don't quite know how.
Be Vulnerable: Laugh at Ourselves.
My other favorite part of Karen's comment is the reminder to laugh at ourselves. Sometimes (often) with teenagers, laughter is all we've got. "Breaking the mood" is magic. It's vital. If we forget to laugh, we succumb to anger and frustration. If we laugh, it's easier to forgive ourselves and our children and the whole, wide world.
Karen Dawson Haag is an educator and champion of literacy, which might explain her particular brand of brilliance. Please check out--and learn from, and use!--her amazing sites, www.liketowrite.com (a free resource for passionate people about helping students write well) and www.liketoread.com (a free resource for passionate people about helping children enjoy reading).
Thank you, Karen, for hearing my cry, "Help me!" Thank you for the practical bit of advice, but most of all for lightening my load. Shoulder-to-shoulder, we all shine on.
"Good Excuse," John Butler Trio: Step outside and see what's shakin' in the real world. <3
Forgiving Children is Easier Than Forgiving Ourselves.
When our children become teenagers, every day is a chance to forgive them their human imperfections. The lost jackets and phones and textbooks. The ugly words said in anger or frustration. The mess they leave in their wake. The bad grades or missing assignments or lies told in desperation. There is so much to forgive, even as we maintain their boundaries and reinforce the rules of decent human behavior.
Like artists who trust the messy process of creating a masterpiece, we know we must make peace with our children's imperfections. It's not always easy, but in general, we get the concept. We try to forgive our children the awkward fits and starts they will make as they emerge from the cocoon of adolescence into the fully realized wings of their adulthood. Forgiveness. Yes. Imperfection. Yes. These are the lullabies we sing to ourselves when things get really ugly during the teenaged years.
Parents Get Lots of Practice.
It's more difficult to forgive ourselves. Lucky for all parents of teenagers, Mother Nature affords us an excellent opportunity to practice. She gives us teenagers who resent our very identities, who will often tell us exactly how lame we are, who cause us to question the core of our value (if we let them).
Here's the truth: parents, we cannot win. No matter how hard we try, no matter the purity of our intentions or the pedigree of the parenting advice we read, we will mess it up. One example gets at the core of the issue. I give you:
Conditional vs. Unconditional Love: A Study in Why Parents Cannot Win
Some children (and adults) are truly wounded by a sense of conditional love from their parents. We know many people who live in fear of failing, who shuffle under the weight of parental expectations. They fear no one really knows them. These souls seek to be good enough--or accomplished enough or beautiful enough--to earn the love they seek.
On the other hand, I know just as many teenagers (and adults) struggling with unconditional love. These people reject praise and are suspicious of compliments; they fear no one really knows them. They resent the parents (or others) who have told them they're great, no matter what. Often, these young people cultivate oppositional identities, act out in secret, or lose a sense of their own value. They do not trust an all-forgiving, all-encompassing, always-there love--perhaps because they feel they have not earned it.
Sometimes, the two examples above come from the very same families. The same parents, apparently identical upbringings, but opposite results.
Parents, we cannot win.
Do we throw our hands up and stop trying? Do we throw the teenager out with the filthy bathwater? Of course not. But it helps to know: until further notice, while raising our children, we are stuck between a rock and a hard place. Nothing we do will be perfect; we cannot manufacture an upbringing guaranteed to save our children from strife.
Odysseus, with Scylla on one side and Charybdis on the other, steered carefully, cut his losses, and saved his ship. Parents, too, must navigate with care.
Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea: Chart a Careful Course.
What can we do? Start by forgiving ourselves--for not knowing how to do better, for failing to do our best sometimes--the way we would want our children to forgive themselves. Let us adopt the attitude of the artist, who trusts the imperfect process as well as the unique product. An artist's worst mistake is to let outside criticism alter the interior vision or the creative process. An artist knows imperfections can produce pure genius.
How can parents stay true to our course? Always, in every situation, get some distance and give yourself a wake-up call: KNOW-PROTECT-HONOR. Do I KNOW what's going on with this kid? Must I PROTECT this kid from any real and present danger? Can I HONOR this kid's unique process of growing up? If you are satisfied with your answers, trust the messy process, unfurl your sails, and carry on. You'll find the best course for you and your family. It will be rough, but it will be okay.
And If You Still Feel Guilty, Do This:
Forgive yourself like our new role model the artist, and if that doesn't work, put a little extra money aside each month for your child's eventual therapy. It may assuage some of the guilt you can't help feeling about how much you're screwing it up.
And--because sometimes good music helps us be more gentle with ourselves--listen as Mick and Keith lament our most ancient, human position:
If you're feeling disoriented, overwhelmed or crazy, adolescence may be on the horizon (or in your home)! You could use a laugh. You could use a shot of hope. Please join Denver South High School PTSA for this live event, especially for parents of teenagers (and almost teenagers):
As early as age ten, kids begin cultivating habits and attitudes which blossom into full-fledged adolescence. It can be a shock because suddenly everything stops making sense. Parents tend to think their kids are gone for good. Because the changes in their personalities seem so sudden, aggressive and frightening, we assume they turn into different people. We think these new behaviors and attitudes are signs of their burgeoning (and awful) adult personalities. Generally, this just isn't true. (See Chapter 2, Part 1.)
Veteran teachers are the perfect people to ask, “Is my kid going to be okay?” because they see it all—and they see it year after year. They also see freshmen grow into seniors and then college students and even grown-up professionals. Sometimes, all a parent really needs to hear is, “This too shall pass.” Because a heck of a lot of the time, it does.
There is no doubt teens require different parenting skills and tactics than they did when they were younger. The whole family needs to adjust to meet their changing needs and demands and abject craziness. They are difficult but they are vulnerable, and parents can do much to guide and protect them. The sooner we recognize signs of adolescent behavior, the sooner we can adjust and properly tend our new landscape. If we can name a thing, we can understand it. If we know what it is, we may be less afraid of it (and I'm here to tell you, teenagers can be pretty scary). Knowing the nature of the beast figures mightily in our ability to tame it. And so. If you've heard one or more of the following come out of your mouth lately, step back and take inventory. Is it possible you have an adolescent on your hands? (Take heart: your kids aren't rotten or ruined--at least not permanently. They're just entering the wasteland of adolescence.)
Well, Friends, where do you stand? If you recognize yourself or your child here, welcome to the wonderful, wild world of adolescence!
My friends (who are far more civilized than I am) beg me not to say this, but hanging out with a teenager can feel a lot like being a battered spouse. People balk at this analogy because they worry it minimizes or pokes fun at the very real and serious problem of domestic violence. I assure you, levity is not my intent. I use this model of dysfunction precisely because it is so grave and the patterns of abuse are so predictable and devastating.
Here’s what I have observed with both my students and my own kids: parents grow used to an icy distance between themselves and their teens. We learn to expect harsh criticism of our shoes, our living-room furniture, our ideas about life, the sound of our voices when we express such ideas. We seldom do anything right. Our presence—pretty much anywhere—might invoke humiliation or rage or both. Verbal insults in public become so commonplace we hardly notice anymore. And then, for some reason—we learn not to ask too many questions—our child treats us well. She says, “I love you, Mom.” He says, “Thank you, Dad.” He clears his own dishes or she remembers our birthday without being prompted. And then, like the battered spouse, we forgive and forget. We see a Ray of Hope in the Darkness! We think, it hasn’t been that bad! He loves me! She was nice to me! I can survive another day! And then the magic moment melts away, leaving the changeling who has replaced your child to continue dispensing that daily dose of nastiness.
Sounds similar to the patterns of an abusive relationship, no? Perhaps the analogy is too harsh, but either way, it’s crazy-making. Living with—and trying to communicate with—adolescents is like being on a carnival ride that looks fun and innocent, but once you are strapped in for good, it hurls you so painfully through time and space you wonder if a sadistic clown is at the helm. The whole world looks confusing and scary when you’re stuck on a joyride-gone-bad. This, my friends, is the reality of raising teens.
I am here to tell you they do mature. One of the great joys of teaching is having these very same troublemakers check back six or seven or eight years later to tell you all about their plans for grad school or the Peace Corps or a real-live paying job. In the meantime, it’s good to know what we are up against.
If you’re butting heads with someone this age, there are a few things you should keep in mind. Through no fault of their own, most people aged 12 to 15 in middle America simply cannot be expected to do certain things.
I know all this because teaching a class of freshmen feels like being trapped with a herd of knife-bearing three-year-olds. A vocabulary lesson can erupt into chaos if the teacher relaxes for even a moment. The best-laid plans of mice and men go oft awry, as Steinbeck reminds us in that perennial freshman-English favorite. Teachers make lesson plans and students thwart them. Inventing creative, surprising, specific ways to torture us is a teenager's job description. It is impossible to prepare; there is no rule book; spending time with teenagers is confusing, frustrating, humbling, and exhausting.
Teachers learn the hard way about lesson plans. Like any plans we have for our children, they do not exist in a vacuum. We teach actual, live human beings and it gets pretty messy. If we expect teenagers to play along and respect the rules of the game, we’re doomed. As teachers and parents know (but I marvel at my perpetual need to be reminded), our children seldom play by the rules. Instead, they dress like hookers or draw penis graffiti on their notebooks. We have to formulate a new game plan when their hormones take over.
On the bright side, living with teenagers keeps us in the moment. They are a constant invitation to remain flexible, keep learning, and see the world through new eyes. Meeting them where they are requires vigilance and super-human tenacity, but we know it's worth it. When we break through a sullen stare and connect with a teenager, when we get a glimpse of the funny, confident, fascinating grown-up lurking behind the angst (almost but not-quite ready to see the light of day) we can see it's worth it. Staying on the sunny side of the street is easier said than done when we're faced with real-live hooligans, but it’s worth it every single time.
Up Next: It’s Not Their Fault: Consider the Teenaged Brain.
This is the first part of Chapter Two of my in-progress manuscript. Earlier chapters:
Preface: Why I Love Teenagers (Catcher-in-the-Rye Parenting)
Chapter One, Part One: You Are Not a Failure and You Are Not Alone
Chapter One, Part Two: Teenagers Need Us (Even When They Act Like They Don't)
Chapter Two, Part One: "What Happened to My Kid?" A Parent's Lament
