Posted in Fragile Life, Insight, Nuts & Bolts, Takes a Village, Teens, Underage Drinking & more, Wisdom of Youth

The Devil is in the Dichotomy

ClayOgre_BASIC_YIN-YANG
ClayOgre, open clip art.com

Though I’ve pestered friends and stormed the internet and rifled through leaflets outside the guidance office, I can’t find anything worthy of my son’s honesty.

We’ve already been clear: No sex, no drugs, no alcohol. Nothing new there. We’ve been talking about it for years.

What’s new is our son. He’s changed. He turned the corner on sophomore year and sprinted into his junior year, and he knew. He wanted to join in. He wanted to drink too. He wanted to get high. (Not everyone is, but his friends are, and he’s missing the fun.)

“Do you want me to hide it?” he asks. “Or do you want me to tell you?”

“I want you to wait,” I say, and he does. Until he says he doesn’t want to anymore.

“I need some time to figure this out,” I say. “How much time do I have?”

He estimates 7 or 8 months, but a few months later, he presses me:

“What are we going to do?” he says. “This is stressing me out. Nothing is changing. You just keep saying wait, and I know I’m not going to.”

I try threats–Military school.

I try thinking outside the box of culture–Moving abroad.

I try diversions–How about a trip to the mall. (I hate the mall so this is a huge concession.)

What I really want is to fast forward to 18 when these decisions are his, as these should be.

“I don’t want to lie to you,” he says. “What am I supposed to do?”

Other parents are of two minds–just say NO (and expect it’s not happening) or just say nothing (and pretend it’s not happening.)

I know this implies that most high schoolers are participating illegally, and of course that’s not true.

“Why can’t you be part of the two-thirds who aren’t using?” I ask.

“There’s no way that’s true,” he smirks.

“Well then, be a part of the 1/3 or even the 10% or even the only one. Be different.”

“I don’t want to be.”

His father and I partied long before we were of age. 300 bars in 1 mile at the Jersey shore (our hometown) kind of lends itself that way. If there were people who weren’t drinking back then, we didn’t know them, and didn’t want to.

Neither of us recall our parents saying anything to us about it–before. Of course, the drinking age was 18 which was a dramatic difference. Seniors could go to a bar at lunch time if they wanted.

21 is so unrealistic, and as a parent I can’t hold the course that long.

“Is it just the legality?” my son asks.

“It’s important,” I say. “No matter what, you’re putting someone at risk–some parents’ home, some kid who is driving.”

He tries to hedge around that, but I don’t let him. There’s no arguing this starkness of this truth.

“I want to be safe,” he says. “That’s why I want to be able to tell you so you can help me.”

Where is he getting this stuff? Online? Where’s my stuff?

“It’s also the other kids,” I say. “Maybe you’ll be smart, but someone else won’t. And then there’s the other kids for whom your choices will set the norm. What about their risks? What about that responsibility?”

He doesn’t have an answer. He looks as defeated as I am. We are sitting on his bed. I reach out and caress his shoulder.

“If I thought alcohol or pot were the answers you were looking for,” I say, “I’d go out and get it for you because I want you to have fun. I want you to experience your wildness.”

“I know,” he says.

When I return to the internet for some kind of support with this conversation, I find two extremes–Be clear with your kids about your expectations; OR when they’re heading toward rehab–encourage them to be candid with you.

What about the in between? What about a son who wants to remain in right relationship with his parents, and yet wants to explore the world in ways in which we can’t legally or logically approve?

The devil is in this dichotomy, and neither my son or I can live with that.

‘What about emancipation?” I say. “Then you can make your own decisions.”

“I’m not ready to be on my own,” he says.

“Then save these decisions for when you are.”

“I still need your support,” he says. “Even with this.”

Kelly Salasin, November 2011

For more on the drug and alcohol issue, click here.

To read more about parenting teens, click here.

Posted in Sexuality, Teens, Wisdom of Youth

Feminist or Whore?

After telling my son that he wasn’t allowed to date until he was 18 (I was only half-kidding), I shocked him at 15 with this (private) Facebook message:

I’d rather you have real sex–with a real girl–than use porn.

His response was priceless–and was actually in person–because as a mother I opted not to send my teenager a message with the words  “porn” and “sex“–but instead invited him to read it on my laptop before deleting it.

It took him a moment before he “got it”–and then he drew a quick breath and attempted to suppress a shy smile, saying:

Woah…that’s intense.

I smiled too–satisfied that I had driven my point home (despite how it unnerved me.)

It’s important to me that my teen not confuse my parental attention to his choices as a lack of passion for life itself.  I want him to know that I celebrate all that is good in life–including sex–but I want him to be intentional with his choices.

That’s how we ended up in a half-hour conversation around the word “whore” last week after he relayed a comedian’s skit that included the label.

“What does that mean to you?” I asked him.

Right away, he turned to leave the room, wishing he’d never stopped in to say goodnight to his parents or made the mistake of sharing something funny with his mother.

“Have a seat,” I said, with my–this is not an optional conversation voice–which I reserve for “these” kind of talks.

He sat himself down at the edge of my bed, prepared for a quick escape.

“So, what does ‘whore’ mean to you?” I asked again, keeping my tone lightwhile making sure he knew that this question was NOT going away.

He fumbled a bit and then said something like:

…That a girl is easy.

“What does ‘easy’ mean?” I probed, wondering where he was gaining this socio-cultural literacy and how much he had already been informed by it.

“Well how about guy?” I asked.  “What are they called when they’re ‘easy’?”

Our conversation continued in this manner with me asking lots of questions with the aim of greasing his thinking away from convention so that his mind might open beyond these gender stereotypes.

Some of his responses were surprising (given that I was certain that I had the final word on the subject.) My son thoughtfully spoke to the “economics” and power dynamics of the male-female exchange and how that determined why women would be called “easy” and men wouldn’t.

I pressed him further on this distinction, reminding him that women wanted sex too.  He was taken off guard by this response and then took me off guard with his own followup:

Mom, are you a feminist or something?

My husband and I looked at each other with suppressed smiles.  We both wondered how it was that our son could live with this particular mother for 15 years without knowing this about her–and we also wondered where he had learned the concept of feminism–and what it actually meant to him.

“Ask your grandfather about that,” I said, knowing that my dad would love to give his grandson an earful about this particular first-born daughter of his.

“What would Poppop have to say?” he asked, still bewilderingly unclear on my stance.

“A lot!” I said, and then to his dismay, I began the next chapter of our bedtime lesson on culture and sexuality–with this new leading question:

What is a feminist?

(to be continued)

Kelly Salasin

Posted in Fragile Life, Insight, School, Wisdom of Youth

H is for Homework (a teacher-turned-parent perspective)

~an open letter to our sons’ 5th grade teacher~

September 2005 (and June 2010)

Dear David,

Since you stated in your summer parent letter that, “We all agree on the importance of homework,” I thought I’d take the opportunity to offer another perspective.

With the advent of your class, we’ve been concerned about how our family relationships will be impacted by school and homework.  Fortunately for us, our son has (generally) been able to handle his assignments without too much stress or intervention.  We’re also fortunate that he has taken increasing initiative around his work over the years, and that he truly cares about the responsibility that is placed in him.  Most of all, we are fortunate that his earliest teachers were a bit flexible around the participation and timing of homework which allowed him to develop into the student he is now.

At the class meeting last week, I was inspired by what you offered the parent who found himself entangled in nightly arguments with his child around homework.  You advised him to prioritize the parent-child relationship over the the parent-teacher one–emphasizing that more than anything, the child needed support from his parents, and would continue to need that for much longer than the teacher-student relationship would last.

David, despite your sound advice, you must know how much pressure is inflicted on most parent-child relationships due to homework.

Another topic that came up at the parent meeting was the difference between what happens in classrooms now–compared to what happened twenty years ago.  You concurred that “the basics” were vital, but that there was much more that could be done and was being done with regard to education today.

I’d like to suggest that this same inspirational change is needed with regard to homework;  In many ways, its practice is the same as it was years ago.

As an educator and parent, I can appreciate the role of homework.  It provides a vital bridge between home and classroom; it provides an opportunity for the “practice” and the deepening of skills, knowledge, and concepts; and it allows the teacher to focus on more in-depth work while repetitive work (eg. math facts, handwriting) is facilitated at home.

Since transitioning from teacher to parent, however, I’ve discovered that managing homework is a tricky business–even in a disciplined, orderly family who loves learning like ours.

Once a child enters school, and parents return to work, family time is a dwindling and precious commodity.   As children grow older, family connections and harmony are challenged in a myriad of ways.  Sometimes these hurdles are a healthy part of family life–enabling children (and parents) to create and focus on their individual identities.  Other times, they can be the robber barons of the quality of life together.

One vital lesson that I missed in my formative years is that life is not all about work–that the quality of life comes more from the quality of “being” than the quantity of “doing”;  that “emptying” the mind is just as important (if not more important) than “filling” the mind.

This sense of “being” comes naturally to children, but is driven out of them by our culture.  Our school is no exception to this culture, but it does seem to have one of the best balances around when it comes to public education. Still, at the end of the day, there’s not much time left over for “emptying.”

With a nation facing an epidemic of obesity, even in children, it seems more important than ever to allow ample time for play and exploration.  Left to their own devices, my children would spend most of their day outside.  Given the opportunity to define their own curriculum, recess and physical education would take up much more of the day.  This is true for most children.

Why then do we spend school years training children to be inside–inside their heads and inside buildings?  And why after a day of learning, of filling, do we want them to go home and spend more time doing the same?

You asked me at the parent meeting if there wasn’t time for homework between the hours of 3 and 9–and of course the answer could be yes, depending on what is prioritized or cut out.

A typical school day in our family (without homework or any other added activity) looks like this:

3:45 Our sons arrive home on the bus
4:30 We finish snack and unpacking school things;  checking notes et al.
4:30-5:30 Kids do chores and then play a bit while dinner prepared;
5:30-6:30 Dinner and clean up;  preparations for the next day;
6:30-7:30 Head upstairs to ready for bed, laundry, bathing, reading et al

This is an “easy” day– without meetings, without doctor appointments, without performances or practices, without meltdowns or illnesses, without lessons in areas of interest that have been cut back at school.

Add just one of the above activities into the day (and there’s usually at least one if not several,) and there is less time for play and less time for family connections.

Add homework into the mix, especially nightly, and life has become very squishy–impossibly so at times.  Something has to give, and it is most often the quality of family relationships that suffers.

Even responsible, learning-oriented kids like mine begin to malfunction after so much time driven by other’s expectations, even when those expectations are motivating (as is the curriculum at our school.)  Kids (and all humans) need time to be self-directed, to zone out, to float…but parents (and teachers) press them to stay focused to meet constant outside expectations.

Think back on your last district inservice when you spent the day in a desk following someone else’s agenda.  What did you want to do at the end of that day? Let off steam, I bet! This is  the same way kids feel when they get off that school bus.

Hopefully it won’t take too many years before children take the initiative to face the additional work ahead of them (in the form of homework), rather than have their parents force it on them.  But what have they sacrificed in that exchange?

They’ve learned to stop listening themselves~to their bodies which say “play”, to their minds which say “melt,”  to their spirits which say “let go.”

I feel really sad when I think about that–and I feel responsible.

I remember the month when our son learned to read– to really read–and to take pleasure in it, and let it be self-directed.  It was the month in second grade when Jodi stopped giving homework.  Suddenly, we had spare moments to sit with him, and he had time to lay around looking at books himself.  With spelling lists and math sheets set aside, something really important happened, and it happened because there was time for us all to connect around it.

There is an old adage that my wise and succinct friend Gail likes to quote:  What has to die so that something can live? With such full lives and such a rich world of information and opportunity, we simply can’t have or do everything.  Perhaps the notion of taking work home with us needs to die; perhaps less IS more.

To its wonderful credit, our school has been known to encourage children to question authority, to unlearn what they have learned,  and to seek to find their own paths.

I am truly grateful to have such a place to send my son to meet the world.  Already we have discovered ways to squeeze out some extra time from our crowded Mondays so that our child can finish homework while we all remain relatively sane.  I look forward to all he will glean from his time in your room and how our family will grow as a result.

I appreciate this opportunity to share our experience of homework and hope that it will help inform yours.

Fondly,

Kelly Salasin