I thought that since it was Mother's Day this weekend, I'd take a minute and reflect on the gifts that my own mom gave me when I was in middle school--the things she did as a mother that have served me well throughout my life. 

Just for the record, I was one of the biggest pains in the world during middle school. I was a tumultuous, stormy little beast back then. I really was. 

My mom wasn't perfect. She made mistakes. However, I have realized something important over the years. The mistakes she made have all been washed away in the ebb and flow of time. None of them matter any more. The things she did well have blessed me continually. 

Here are some of the things my mom did well:

1. She didn't interfere. She knew where I was and with whom I was, but she didn't intrude or insert herself into my social life. I had rules and parameters--curfews and so on, but she really didn't care about the lastest gossip--which of my friends were going out with girls or things like that. When I had spats with other kids, she always refused to get involved and told me I'd have to work it out myself.

This empowered me to make my way in the world and feel confident in my ability to solve problems. It gave me sense of agency and independence. When it was time for me to leave the house and be on my own, I was ready. Going away to college and then a two-year church mission were not difficult (at least in that aspect) because I was used to solving my own problems and being independent. By letting me work things out on my own when the stakes were fairly low, she gave me the gift of being able to work things out when the stakes were higher. She was there to walk me through things, but she would not intercede. 

2. She made me work. Growing up, I had various chores. Weeding, vacuuming, cleaning bathrooms, mowing the lawn, making dinner and so on. This was a real pain for my mom because none of us kids ever did the job well the first time, so she had to invest a lot of time checking and re-checking and listening to our excuses, protestations, and arguments. She could have done all this herself in probably 1/3rd of the time it took to get us to do this. 

I hated the work more than I can say. But when I left home at 18, I knew how to cook. Well. I knew how to do laundry, iron, and clean a bathroom, a refrigerator, and on and on. When I got my own house, I knew how to garden, weed, mow a lawn, and other basics of home maintenance. I started my adult life already knowing how to do all these things and that was a huge help. 

3. She was an adult. Instead of sinking to my level and trying to be cool, trying to talk or dress like a teen, my mom was an adult and I got the idea she enjoyed being an adult. That gave me something to aspire to, and it gave me someone to respect, even when I didn't like her very much. 

As I got older and the storms of adolescence faded, I came to see what a great gift this is. Teenagers are naturally egocentric. They will naturally think they are the center of the universe. My mom helped me understand I was not and she helped pull me out of the roiling seas of adolescence to the firmer shore of adulthood. And I find it much more congenial there. 

4. She refused to be manipulated. As I mentioned in number 2, there were times I didn't like her. Times I was mad. Times I raged and stormed and bellowed at the unfairness of all she required. She was immoveable and unyielding in sticking by her guns. 

5. She sided with my teachers. Always. I hated this. But any trouble in school would be met with swift retribution at home. This really forced me to focus and do my best in school. I hated school, quite frankly. I was lazy and undisciplined and probably had ADD (it wasn't known back then). So, I hated every minute of it. If I had known that I could get away with slacking or goofing off, I would have done it in a second. I would not have pushed myself, I would not have tried at all. I would have checked out completely. I was a pretty creative kid and would have been able to do a lot of wiggling and weaseling had I thought it would avail. I would have played my parents against my teachers if I thought I would have been able to get away with it. 

I hate to think of where I would have ended up. Happily, mom insisted that I behave and wouldn't let me check out. This was a lot of work for her. But I knew I couldn't slide by with not turning in assignments or things like that. I knew I couldn't misbehave and then say things like, "Well, Mr. S0-and-so just doesn't like me." 

6. She made my go outside. In our house, TV was strictly limited. We were expected to go and play outside for most of the day and we did. I have such happy memories of those times, now. My siblings and I entertained ourselves and made up all kinds of fun, imaginative games. I also did a lot of reading, which has obviously blessed my life as well. 

7. She put my dad first. My dad did the same. All of us kids knew that the marriage came first and that Mom and Dad were one unit. We couldn't play them against each other and knew better than to try. They lived for each other and they were (and are) the center of each other's universes.

As a kid that sort of bugged me when I saw friends who were the center of their parent's universe. But even at the time, it provided a great deal of security for me. I knew that my home was built on a rock solid foundation and that my parents were together for the long haul. In the long term, it helped prepare me for my own marriage and taught me how to be a husband first. 

8. She encouraged our imaginations. As long as I can remember, we had a big drawer full of paper and there were always markers and paint and other art supplies--a big basket of them, in fact. Mom encouraged us to use our imaginations and make things. She kept up with the latest books in children's literature, and our bookshelves were stocked with Newbery award winners and other books that had merit. We had library cards and used them. She kept beautiful music playing.

9. She didn't spoil us. My parents were affluent--my father was a successful lawyer during the boom years of the 80s. We lived a comfortable life, but had very modest possessions. Their philosophy was that, as parents, they owed us clothing, but not Reeboks and other expensive stuff. So, they would give us a dollar amount they'd spend on our clothes. If we wanted something above that, we came up with the rest of it. 

When we wanted something fun or nice--a bike or a stereo--they would always pay half and we would save the other half. 

They put a lot of money into savings and life insurance and so on, building an emergency supply of food and other necessities (this was in the Cold War, and we lived near a major Air Force base). This all created a feeling of security and stability. We felt safe and secure. 

It also taught me to be frugal and careful with money. They spent lots of money on lessons and family vacations and a boat so we could water-ski together--but they were very careful about how and what they spent their money on. 

10. My mom loved us. She loved us far more than herself or her own comfort or hobbies. She devoted herself to us and our happiness. She expected things of us and she was firm, but she was not harsh or unkind. We knew she would do anything for us. I remember in 11th grade procrastinating a huge research paper. This was back in the days of typewriters, and I sat at the dining room table plunking away with my tw0-fingered technique, going nowhere fast. It got later and later. Somewhere around 11, Mom appeared. She took over the typing and, since she actually knew how to type, it went much faster. But since I was just making it up as I went, not a lot faster. I had some notes, I think, and I was using generous quotations from an encyclopedia. I fell asleep at one point. When I woke up, it was 2 am. Mom was still typing. 

11. She welcomed my friends. Even though they were strict with curfews and what movies I could go see, my parents always welcomed my friends. I could have a party anytime I wanted, and she always kept ice cream and chips and other teen-friendly foods on hand when our friends came to hang out. Smart woman. 

In short, my mom loved us enough to do things that would bless us in the long-term instead of doing things that would make her life easier in the short-term. At the time, a lot of this bugged me. My frustration at the time is matched only by the gratitude I have felt ever since leaving home. The more I live and see, the more grateful I am that she was the way she was. That's what I mean when I say that the effect of her weaknesses or mistakes have long since been negated, but the good things she did were investments that continue to pay dividends.

As I write this with a father's perspective, I realize that most of what my mom did that was good was also hard. It took discipline on her part and an eye to the long view. It meant loving us enough to do hard things. 

And that is a lesson and of itself. 

Thanks, Mom. 

In the previous two posts, I've generalized from my experience to describe what you might expect from 6th graders (here) and 7th graders (here). Today, I'll finish by describing 8th graders. 

I've already given all of the caveats--this is simply my experience and so on, but there is one more important one I need to add. I teach in a K-8 school, so 8th graders are functionally seniors. They have a great deal of responsibility, as well as commensurate opportunities for leadership. This makes a difference, I think, in how they act. I suspect that students in a 7-9 Junior High School model might act differently in some ways. So just keep that in mind. 

The good news is that most 8th graders don't experience the vast ups and downs common in 7th grade. Most likely, there will be a degree of stability. The bad news is that childhood is just about over.  

This can be good and bad, or rather, good and bittersweet. For example, 8th graders will probably not be quite as irrationally embarrassed of you. However, they will probably not be quite as affectionate or outwardly loving. The good news is that they will probably be more autonomous and independent with things like school work and some of their own maintenance. However, they will also show a commensurate degree of independence and autonomy in emotional ways. They will need you a little less. That can be a painful change. I would not that this may be especially pronounced in boys. 

Don't make the mistake of taking this personally. It is part of the natural process of growing up, but it can smart and sting a parent. My suggestion is to grieve privately, don't make your child feel guilty for this natural process.

The way I think of it is this: when my students (or my own children) are 6th graders, I am helping them through their last year of childhood. In 7th grade, I'm helping walk them through a very awkward and painful transition. In 8th grade, I'm now teaching (or parenting) baby adults. 

They are very, very young adults, but they are beginning to think in adult terms and live in a more adult world by 8th grade. 

Note: You are not done being a parent. Far from it. In fact, the decisions that your 8th grader will make will have a huge impact on the rest of their life. Success in school will now be closely linked to college and a career. Their decisions with regards to friends and social activities have huge implications as drugs, alcohol, and sexual activity began to be real possibilities.

So, this is not the time to check out. They need your guidance more than ever. But there will be a shift in that relationship. You are now laying the groundwork for the relationship you will have for the rest of their lives. You will, in large measure, have to earn their trust and respect now. They will listen to you if you reason with them, but you will be one of many voices, not the center of their world. You will have to do a little more convincing and sales work as opposed to simply laying down the law (although there are times when this is necessary). 

They have much more capacity, and as the tilt-a-whirl of adolescence slows down a bit, they will stop being so inwardly focused and might start looking outward. In 7th grade they were consumed with what their peers thought. Their relationships were likely somewhat unstable and tumultuous. 

Now, with growing stability, they will begin to make solid friendships again. They may make some new friendships or rekindle old ones, but they will start looking out more. 

They will probably start moving from simple imitation of romantic relationships and some crushes to very young love. It's not the real deal, and there is still a lot of immaturity involved, but they will start to have deep feelings for their friends, and that includes some romantic feelings as well. 

As I was writing this, I asked some of my 8th graders what they wished their parents knew. One of the things they said was, "Everyone time I talk to a boy, don't assume I'm in love with him." That's good counsel. Not every boy-girl interaction is romantic. I've noticed that many boy-girl friendships have a degree of chemistry and flirtatiousness, but are mostly platonic. 

Relationships will be somewhat ambiguous as they will be doing a lot of exploration. A girl might be friends with many boys, and consider them only friends, but still be flirtatious and even mildly affectionate. Don't use black-and-white, either-or terminology to understand your child's relationships at this age because there is a great deal of experimentation and changing going on. 

While this can be true of boys as well, my sense is that many boys start being interested in getting a girlfriend, looking for one specific girl. They can have female friends as well, but I have noticed that many of them begin behaviors we would consider dating. 

Boys will probably hit their physical growth this year. In fact, it might be the first time some of them are bigger than the girls. I've noticed that the girls are usually the dominant group leaders in younger grades--when influence is exerted through emotional and social means. Things get a bit more equal as the boys get their size.

8th graders will see themselves as being adults. They will not see themselves as being baby adults, but the real deal. They will not understand their limitations or see they still have a long way to go. Consequently, they will chafe at some boundaries and limits.

I have found that it is helpful to give as much latitude and autonomy as I can. This helps establish some credit. Then, on areas where there cannot be latitude or autonomy, I am unyielding. I have also found that explaining why I do things or require things make a big difference. 8th graders will often disagree but go along if they feel you are being fair as opposed to arbitrary. 

They see themselves as adults and respond well to responsibility. I find that saying, "If you want x privilege, you need to do abc" they will often work very hard to comply with the requirements. They can sometimes be motivated by appeals to do good work simply for the sake of doing good work, but do better with incentives and feeling challenged. 

They respond well to humor (sarcasm, especially), reason, logic, incentives, and anything that appeals to their growing sense of being an adult. They respond poorly to force, compulsion, constraint that seems arbitrary or pointless, and anything that makes them think you see them as children. 

One of the other things my 8th graders told me is that they hate being peppered with questions: "Where are you going? Who's going to be there? What did you do? Was it fun? Who said what?" 8th graders will want a degree of privacy. They feel able to direct their own lives and so won't want intrusions into what they see as their sovereign affairs. 


But, a parent has to know some of this information, so I don't suggest not asking them anything. I think it's good for them to feel accountable. Remember, they can make adult-level mistakes (in terms of ruining their lives) but don't yet have adult-level life experience or judgment. 

I think a good strategy is to say, "Look, I have to know what you are going to do and who's going to be there. As long as you live under my roof, I need to know x, y, and z. If you will tell me what I need to know, I won't bug you about the other details."

They often find it off-putting when adults try to be too fun or cool, or get too involved in who is going out with whom and so on. One of the best things you can do to get along with your child at this age is to be an adult. Don't try to be cool or younger than you are or fun. They start to smell that out and really don't like it. As they mature, they want someone mature to look up to. 

Working with 8th graders can be rewarding. Their bodies are mature enough that they can sing well or execute athletics successfully on a whole new level. They are confident enough that they can start to take some risks, and they can start to think at new and more sophisticated levels. 

As long as you understand that this comes with a corresponding pull away emotionally, and the fact that they want adult privileges, it can be a really wonderful time. 

Q: Guess what the best thing about 7th graders is?
A: They turn into 8th graders.

Hah! It's a joke to lighten things up. And chances are, if you have a 7th grader, you will need some lightening up. Remember, this will pass and things will be normal and happy again. 

7th grade is a rough time. In my opinion, it is the most difficult age to live through on your own, and also as a parent. Yes, there are exceptions, but in my experience, the vast majority of kids really struggle with this year. Let me offer some generalizations, based on my observations, about the problems and then some possible strategies. 

The reason it's so difficult, I think, comes down to one word: change.

First of all, their bodies are changing in ways that may be frightening, confusing, and exciting--all at the same time. 

Consider the cliche, "I know something/someone like the back of my hand." We say that to make the point that we know something or someone deeply, thoroughly, completely. The saying draws it's power from the commonly accepted idea that our bodies are fixed points of reference, things we know perfectly and understand. 

So, imagine how you feel when that point of reference is changing. The way you look, the way you sound. One day your voice squeaks or you trip over feet that are larger than they were. Your face begins to break out. You are taller than everyone else. Or shorter than everyone else. You have hair on your legs and don't want it. Or, you have don't have hair on your legs and do want it. You start to smell funny and feel different. Changes come in areas and systems that have traditionally been incredibly personal as well.

Not only is your body changing, but worse, everyone can tell it is! So you go through these uncomfortable changes in full view of your parents, teachers, and worst of all, your peers. It is a humiliating thing. And, not having the confidence or balanced view that comes with a few more years of experience, you assume that everyone notices far, far more than they actually do. 

Being a 7th grader is, I think, to feel always on the outside looking in. It is to live each day with self-doubt and a feeling of awkwardness and discomfort. This feeling keeps you always feeling like you are the outlier, the strange one, and so on. You feel insecure and this becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you see two friends talking, you assume they are excluding you. And, without maturity and lived experience, you probably act accordingly--snubbing them in return, or at least being deeply hurt. 

And this leads to a second major change. Not only is the body changing, but social groups are, too. 7th grade is a social Rubix Cube that is suddenly twisted and turned all over. Friendships that existed since Kindergarten are suddenly over. Your best friend now wants to hang out with a different group. You have different interests. If you mature more quickly, you find the former activities lame and childish. If you mature a little less quickly, you're not sure why your friend suddenly cares about teenage things like boys/girls, etc.  You still want to play with Barbies (secretly) or legos--and your friend suddenly has a Facebook account and is "going out" with or "dating" someone you both thought was gross a few months earlier. 

And that leads to the third change. Many, not all, and maybe not even most, but many, adolescents will start having romantic interests at this point in life. They aren't totally sure what it's all about but they may become infatuated with a boy or girl. Their friendships with members of the opposite sex may change completely and become more flirtatious, or more awkward. Most of them experience romantic relationships in extremes--the very awkward and the very obsessed. There tends not to be a great deal of middle ground, although sometimes they are savvy enough to pretend that their is and they put on a show. Inside, their emotions are not very stable. 

All of this is going on because of the hormones that are flooding through them. These hormones make them unusually emotional. They might be weepy, depressed, angry, and ecstatic within short periods of time. Their behavior will change, often, based on where they are and who they are with. For peers, they will put on a happy face in spite of nearly anything. For parents, it can be the opposite. 

On that note, the influence of their peers and a desire for peer approval can become a paramount consideration at this time. You may see your own relationship change as they pull away and assert some independence. 

They see things in heightened emotional terms and there may be a lot of drama. If it's not outward, then it's probably still there, roiling below the surface and you wonder what's going on. 

Their judgment is impaired and they will make bad decisions. Repeatedly. Simple things you took for granted, like doing their homework or cleaning their room, may become epic battles now. 

We had a speaker at school a few years ago who told us something I have found invaluable. He was neuroscientist, and said that with the onset of puberty, the brain ceases the production of serotonin, which mediates decision-making. It just stops. Completely. This, he said, leaves a teen with the functional decision-making skills of an adult drunk driver. 

So, a 7th grader might be forgiven for having a rough year. In fairness, there is a whole lot going on that they have to deal with. 

So, what do you do?

To be honest, it's not easy. Every year I probably am frustrated more by my 7th grade students than any other group. At the same time, I get a lot of genuine satisfaction and happy surprises from them as well. They can be surprisingly sweet still, and they can do very good work when properly motivated and structured. While not adults yet, they will have glimmers of moments when they can show a lot of maturity.

The biggest thing that helps me is to manage expectations, to remember who I am dealing with. I have to constantly remind myself that they look like adults--but they are far, far from it. I need to manage my expectations accordingly. I have to remember how much they are dealing with. To them, most of their daily energy is consumed on surviving and not becoming a social outcast. They spend inordinate amounts of time worrying about this. 
I've found it helpful to think of them in these terms. I'm simplifying, this is not supposed to be medically valid. They basically have the bodies and hormones now of adults, with none of the life experience, practice, or self-discipline that adults have developed.  

Their job now is to learn how to be an adult, just as a toddler's job is to learn to walk. And the only way a toddler can do that is by trying and falling. Many, many times.

Your 7th grader is going to try to be an adult and they will be about as good as it as a toddler is at running marathons. It will take practice and time and patience.

You can help them, I think, by doing a few things. 
1. Consistent limits. As the world goes crazy, they will value (although they won't tell you until years later) a firm, consistent grown-up in their life.  They need stability, structure, consistency, and order more than ever before. Set limits, say "NO." They will rage and fume, but will appreciate it deep down. They are like engines with no brakes and no steering. Your job is to be the steering wheel and brakes. You might also think of them as little saplings. The winds are fierce and you don't want them bent. So, you get some rope and a peg and provide stability to keep the tree straight. Once it's a little stronger, it can stand on it's own. 


2. Pick your battles. Within the limits you set,  preserve the relationship. The ups and downs will end, the tempest will cease eventually. But your relationship, and the quality thereof will still be there. Sometimes you have to beat a strategic retreat in order to save the relationship rather than winning a battle and losing the war. This might come with expectations about homework, about cleaning a room, whatever. Save your ammo for the things that are really important. Let the rest go. Pick a few priorities, hold to them with adamantine firmness, and then let the rest go. 

3. Allow them to experience the consequences of their actions. Babies don't learn to walk without falling. You wouldn't catch your toddler every time they fall. Let your teen fail. Let them flounder. This is how they learn to be an adult. If you intercede for them, you rob them of growth and you weaken them later in life. 

4.  Don't let them waste their childhood by growing up too fast. They are not adults yet. They don't have maturity or judgment. They have very little perspective or emotional resilience. Our culture is pushing kids to do things that used to be adult behaviors earlier and earlier. At a minimum, this spoils the fun later. I think it also damages kids, robbing them of critical time to grow and learn about themselves, and bringing them into situations they are not yet prepared to deal with in healthy ways. Protect your child's childhood. I know of no adults who wish they would have grown up sooner. I know quite a few who wish they could go back to those innocent, carefree years. They will have plenty of time to act, dress, talk, dance, and have relationships like an adult. Their days of being able to do those things as a child are fast leaving. 

5. Be the adult. Know where they go and who they go with. Tell them when they will be back. Don't descend to their level. Don't try to be cool. Cool parents are fun for a little while, but at some point, your child will need an adult to guide, comfort, or help. Insist that they treat you with respect, not matter how upset. Their professors, coaches, and bosses will not be tolerant with rudeness and they need to learn that now. Or they will later. 

6. Don't be bullied. They will try to coerce you into letting them do what they want. They will say, "Everyone else's parents let them..." or "I'm the only one who doesn't get to...." Ignore it. There are an astonishing number of bad parenting choices in our world today. It is almost breathtaking how misguided some people are. The fact that they have made bad choices is no reason for you to do the same. It's easier to give in. Don't. Your kids will thank you for it later. If you want them to resist peer pressure (and you do) then you have to model it.

7. Laugh and have fun. Laugh with them when they do laugh, and when you are frustrated, laugh at them behind closed doors. Gallows humor can go a long way for your sanity during this time. Try to have fun with them. This might be hard because they might not want much to do with you. Or, their idea of fun might not be yours. Pizza and snacks will go a very long way, especially late at night. 

8. Reward them when they do something good. If your'e a good parent, you will have to be on their case a lot during this time (unless you have a perfect child). So, reward them with as much gusto as you discipline and correct them. 

9. Love them. Look for those glimmers of maturity. Hold on. Don't confuse their behavior for who they are. They need to know you are on their team. Don't allow yourself to say things like, "Don't be a brat" or "Stop acting like a baby." You will be amazed at how deeply those things can cut, even when they don't admit or show it.

And, above all, remember: it will end and they will become 8th graders. More on that next week. 

One of the biggest challenges in terms of parenting an adolescent is sometimes understanding what is going on with them. I have found that in my own experience that it's helpful to understand roughly what the parameters are. Knowing that your kids are not anomalies, even if they are frustrating, is a comfort. I've spoken with many parents over the years in my capactiy as a teacher who were suprrised and relieved to find out that their child's behaviors (or misbeahviors) atually conform to some pretty well established patterns of adolesence. Knowing doesnt' fix it, but it can help you adapt better and address things. It also give you a sense of what battles are important and winnable and what you should let slide.

So, in that spirit, let me offer some large generalizations about the different ages I teach-- 
6th, 7th, and 8th graders. 

Obviously, this is based on my experience. I don't purport that these are universal. They're just my observations. Also, remember that every group has outliers, and so even if an observation is true for most 7th graders, it will generally be not be true for every single person in that group. 

One other thing to add: some changes are developmental, based on biology--most 13 year olds will act certain ways, for example, but some of it is alos based on envirnoment and culture. I teach in a K-8 school, and that has impact. An 8th grader in my school, fo exampe, is treated like a senior, and so will probably demonstrate more respnsibility and confidence than some 8th graders who who go to 7-9 or 5-12 schools.  

If, after all those disclaimers, you are still reading, I'll start with 6th graders.

6th graders are really quite fun. You might start seeing some puberty-driven tempestuousness or cluelessness, especially towards the end of the school year. But, on the whole, 6th graders are actually quite sweet. They are young enough and sweet enough to generally want to please adults--not yet too cynical or sarcastic. They are old enough to actually be able to do good work and perform at a reasonably high level and show some independence. 
If your child hits puberty on the early side, you might not see this. They might be disorganized, truculent, and overly-emotional. Do not fear! That just means they are on the early side of things. It will even out. And, next year, while all their peers's parents are tearing their hair out, you will hit some stability. 


They are generally not truly involved romantically. Some of the more socially precocious may  imitate older peers or siblings by having a boyfriend or girlfriend, but this is generally simply a social convention and doesn't have a deep-seated emotional or physical attachment. Most of what I observe them doing in boy and girl relationships is simply mimicry, based on what they've seen. 

Depending on whether they are the oldest in a K-6 school or the youngest in a different model, you will see some variation in this. In a K-6 school, the fact that they are the kings of the place might lead to some more confidence or brashness. 

6th grade is usually the transition year to adolescence--you will start to see them assert more autonomy. They might begin to dress or style their differently--less like a child and more like a young adult. They may show (or feign) an interest in music or movies that everyone else is seeing. 

The influence of the peers will be significant and you will probably see your own influence rapidly decline while that of their peers increases. In almost every class or grade, there will be a few kids who have older siblings and are therefore initiated into the coolest clothes, music, and so forth. Everyone else will start following their example to various degrees.

I see most 6th graders as somewhat analogous to small children who dress up in their parent's clothes. The clothes don't fit and it's obvious there's a mismatch. 6th graders start trying to look and act like teenagers. It doesn't fit them, and it's obvious. Most likely they will have some fashion or cosmetic misfires, the memory of which will haunt them forever. They are, for the most part, teenage impersonators--going through the motions without totally understanding what they are doing.

They will still show genuine emotion and are generally not too guarded about that. They haven't quite internalized the rule that cool means being casual and calm and never getting excited about anything. 

For that reason, they are fun to teach and you don't have to work so hard to coax them in to trying new things or getting them excited about a concept or book or piece of music. 

Socially, the girls start buzzing around a Queen Bee or two and the girls tend to start to be very socially hierarchical. I'm convinced that they don't mean to be unkind--they are just very, very thoughtless, for the most part, and don't think about who their actions might effect others. They generally aren't actively mean, but will neglect and ignore people. Part of this is driven by an increasing sense of insecurity--they often don't feel strong enough to reach out to others. 

Boys tend not to be quite so stratified yet. Boys group themselves, usually, by whatever team or activity they do, and are fairly open. They tend to be a little less exclusive on those terms. They also tend to be a lot more energetic. A. LOT. 

Every spring, I see an interesting phenomenon. Spring, of course, is the time when schools have auditions for show choirs and ensembles and fall musicals. 

At this time, I almost always get a few requests to work with a student to help them prepare for their auditions. Some of these are students with whom I've worked for years, or who have taken lessons with someone else. In this case, it's a matter of helping them refine the technique they've developed for the purposes of a specific song, or helping them choose material that showcases their strengths. This is relatively simple.

However, usually, these are people who've never had a voice lesson, or who have gone years without one. They are often people with some talent, but very little training. They, or their parents, hope that within 3 or 4 lessons, I can help them become amazing.

In the past, I've taken all comes and done my best to help them because I genuinely want them to succeed, and frankly, I'm not in a financial position to turn away most work. I think I will not be doing this anymore, though, because something interesting happens.

These students generally don't do all that well. In three or four times, of course, it is very difficult to help someone advance to the point when they can compete with someone who has been studying and practicing for years. 

No one thinks they can overeat for years and then spend a few days not eating and get to the same weight as someone who's been cautious for years. No one thinks they can take four or five dance lessons and then compete with prima ballerinas, or work out four times and run a marathon. 

And yet, many people really believe that a few lessons will make a difference for an audition. Again--they can be useful for tweaking what's there, but they can't build a solid foundation and a beautiful castle on that foundation in a short time. 

And when that happens, guess who's fault it is? Instead of them saying, "Hey, thanks for your time. The audition probably was better than it would have been otherwise, and I appreciate doing all you could for me," I usually get anything from icy silence to passive agressive smack-downs. Yeah. That's right. Your kid had three sessions with me and it's my fault you didn't get into show choir/the musical? I don't think so. One of the most dissatisfied former clients was someone who had spent literally ten years or more pursuing a particular athletic activity for about 40 hours a week outside of school. I almost laughed when they were surprised that 5 lessons didn't make them as good a singer as they were at this other activity. I wanted to ask if they could give me 5 lessons and turn me into a champion in this activity. But I didn't. 

I think that our society does a lot of things wrong, and one of those things is that we require kids to start activities earlier and earlier. If you want to play basketball in high school, you better start when you are three. I don't like that, and I try to push back against it. I don't think young children should generally take voice lessons. I don't expect an 8th grader to sing like a pro. It's not natural or healthy, in my opinion. 

But, at the same time, on the other end of the spectrum, some people think there is a quick fix--that time and effort, preparation and habits aren't important, that everything can be instant in this world. And that's a real problem, too. If something is important, you have to prepare. That doesn't mean going crazy and losing balance. It doesn't mean neglecting other things in your life. And I think it's totally fine to discover a new hobby in middle or high school. That's great! But you can't expect to compete at the same level as those who have been seriously pursuing it for years. A degree of common sense and good judgement is called for here.

The lesson I think we are forgetting--quickly--across our entire society is that choices have consequences. Some are good, some are bad, some (most) are mixed. There is no perfect path. There are, instead, a series of trade-offs and pay-offs. You reap what you sow. You simply can't have it all, and especially not on your own terms, whenever you want it, just because you want it!
So, if your child wants to participate seriously in the performing arts (or other activities), you need to think about this. How much time and money do you want to spend on training and practice? How big a priority do you want to make it? What are the objectives in mind? You can choose. But realize that your choice is going to have some natural consequences with it. My wife and I don't want our kids to do travel sports because it would take up our lives and cut in to precious family time. That's fine. It's our choice. What's not our choice, though, is then to expect that our kids will be able to compete at the same level as those who have done travel sports since they were in Kindergarten. And if I expect to hire a coach to give my kid private lessons over a three week period to help him suddenly get to that level, then I am not thinking through things very clearly. Singing, acting, dancing--these things are all the same. 

I wrote last week about the value of humor and today I was going to write specifically about sarcasm. But as I wrote, I had lots of thoughts I wanted to unpack with more thoroughness, so I'm going to wait for a week or two and talk about something else that's been on my mind lately. 

The other day I was in the kitchen and heard a horrendous shriek. My 5 year old came running in screaming at the top of his lungs. When he was able to calm down long enough to be verbal again, he showed me a very minor abrasion on his knee. It was not a big deal, although I knew it stung badly.

So, I freaked out, too. I screamed and cried and assured him that he was right--it was a terrible wound and he was in imminent danger. So, we screamed and cried and freaked out together, each pushing the other to a more fevered, frenzied state.

Of course I'm joking.

I calmly told him it was okay, that he'd be fine and that it would stop hurting soon. I told him it wasn't serious. I put some antibiotic ointment on it, slapped a band-aid over the scrape and sent him back out to play. 

I wrote a few weeks ago about being the shelter in emotional storms of adolescence. You can read that here, if you like. 

Those suggestions were applicable to all kinds of emotional dramas, but I want to deal with one aspect of that a little more specifically. 

Adolescence is a time of heightened emotion. Adolescents tend to experience the world via very strong feelings. They aren't just tired, they are exhausted. They aren't just mad, they are furious. They aren't just hurt, they are devastated. Emotionally, they are very much like my 5 year old in the anecdote above--the reaction is usually disproportionate to the severity of the situation. These situations might include problems with peers, grades, disappointments or setbacks in the things they like to do (eg dance, sports, theatre, whatever) and so on. They are the emotional analogues of a scraped knee in that they sting but won't have long-term effects. 

Over my teaching career, I've found that there are many different kinds of parents and styles, as varied and unique as the personalities of the parents themselves. All of us--parents, teachers and students alike--are imperfect and flawed. We all make mistakes and have imperfect approaches and styles.

That being said, I've concluded that all mistakes are not equal. I have found, in my own classroom, that I can err on the side of harshness or mercy. I nearly always regret when I err on the side of harshness and very rarely regret erring on the side of mercy because the consequences of making a mistake are far less serious and damaging. 

On that idea, then--that you should choose carefully which mistakes you are going to make--let me talk about one three parenting styles I have observed.

Parents in the first group are what I call emotional arsonists. They start drama like an arsonist starts fires. Other parents, teachers, their child's classmates--everyone and every situation is potential kindling just waiting for gasoline and a match. They pick fights, cause controversy and escalate natural, minor disagreements or conflicts into bonfires. Happily, they are fairly rare and they are so obvious that most people tend to avoid them. 

If every teacher is out to get your child, if no coach ever gives them their due, if all the other kids are mean, then you might want to consider carefully if you are an emotional arsonist. I'm not saying that some kids aren't picked on unfairly, or that every teacher is just and virtuous, and kind. But I am saying that if it's always you and/or your child against the world, you may want to give some deep thought to how you are engaging the world. The odds that everyone you or your child meets is a mean and a bully are not impossible, but they are small. 

But there's another approach which I think is perhaps more pernicious because it's more subtle. This group doesn't start the fires, but they are right there when it happens shining a spotlight on it. They get involved and drawn into the drama, living it along with their children in heightened terms. This could involve social problems, conflicts with a teacher or coach, general disappointment in life--whatever it is. They are like those morbid reporters who, when a disaster strikes, are there 24/7, priding themselves on never leaving the scene. They lack objectivity and detachment, though, and end up getting so drawn in that they make some kind of faux pas as a result--at the very least being insensitive or far too close to the situation. I call these spotlight parents. They may not start the fires, but they shine the light on them for all to see. 

I think most of us have this tendency in us and I think most parents fall somewhere in a continuum inside this group. I know I do. It's natural, when you love your child to want to run to them when they are hurt, to suffer along with them and so on. And, the reality is that you do suffer. When your child is hurting, most parents feel that same hurt plus more. So it's easy to be drawn into this.

These parents do with drama what I did not really do with my son's scraped knee--they overreact and freak out, stir things up and make things worse instead of projecting calm and sending the message that this really is not a big deal. 

Here's a warning sign, and it's one I will admit to experiencing. If you react emotionally to your child's peers or teachers, if you end up reacting on a vsiceral, as opposed to a rational, basis, you might be a spotlight parent. If you talk, weeks later, about drama that happened some time ago, you might be a spotlight parent. Notice I say "might." There's a fine line between loving and protecting your child, and going too far. But it is a very fine line.

I have known other parents who are exactly the opposite. This is a fairly small group, unfortunately. They are like shock absorbers for drama. They don't seek it out and don't stir it up. They don't talk about it if they are involved. It goes no further than them. They see their children not as heroes in a melodrama, but as imperfect actors in an ensemble of equally imperfect actors. They see two sides of adolescent conflicts. They don't hold grudges (or at least don't act on them). They talk to the teacher before getting mad. They can grant good intentions and good faith even when disagreeing. They don't really worry if their kid doesn't get the game ball or the leading role (although they enjoy it when they do). It just doesn't upset their equilibrium or rock their boat. 

Essentially, they do with emotional situations what I did with my 5 year old's scraped knee. They use their life experience and more developed rational capacity to say, "It's going to be okay. Calm down. I know it hurts, but it will be fine very soon."

It can be very difficult to do this when you are the parent because it requires a level of detached rationality that many of us do not naturally possess. It's easier to be calm with my 5 year old because I'm not hurting, too. But when someone hurts my adolescent's feelings--I am hurting too. 

And so we get to the idea of habits and self-discipline. Of learning to act a certain way in specific situations, of not getting drawn in. Of being a bit detached and thinking before we act. This is, I'm convinced, a skill that can be learned. 

Is there a risk with this? Yes, I think there is. It's possible that the shock absorber parents may not always be empathetic enough, I suppose. As a parent I worry that I might not be loving or nurturing enough. 

As a teacher, though, I think I have a different perspective and I really believe that, if you have to err, this is the side on which you want that error to occur.
 
In my experience, the children of the shock absorber parents are much better adjusted, more confident, more resilient, confident, and have more friends. They seem much happier to me.  As an aside, the shock absorber parents tend to be happier and are more well-liked than the spotlight parents. 


The children of the spotlight parents tend to be much less secure, more dependent, and usually struggle quite a bit and are less happy. This varies quite a bit depending on the intensity of the spotlight behaviors. But the more engaged on an emotional level the parent is, the less happy the child usually is.  

The fire starter's children are usually totally messed up. Friendless, very dependent, and quite unhappy.