On enjoying teenagers

The other day, I was on my office phone working a transportation deal that involved some intensive juggling, car swapping, backtracking, and a number of teenagers. When I finished wrangling, I hung up and let out a heartfelt "Phew!" Then I commented to my officemate that having two teenagers is sometimes rather complicated. She said she imagined so, then I added, "But it's more fun that I thought it would be!" Even without knowing my history, this comment surprised her. She, like so many of us, has bought into our cultural animosity toward the breed: Teenagers are dangerous and scary.

It was this general state of fear and loathing that led me to regard my own children's adolescence with apprehension—even before they had been conceived. MJ recently uncovered a piece of paper that apparently dates back to the early years of my relationship with Frank. On it, I had listed the pros and cons of having kids, and the teenager thing made the Cons list (one of the few cons I, as a rabid kid-lover, had been able to come up with). Needless to say, we carried on with the baby-making even with the dreaded horrors of puberty looming ahead. MJ arrived in all her glory and I was thrilled.

And then came The Talk Show. When MJ was two months old and cousin Chelsea was a newborn, my sister-in-law, Denise, and I were having a little visit, each with infant in arms. The TV was on in the background, and some talk show came on. The topic of the day was teenage girls who hate their mothers. We listened to the venom spewing out of the mouths of those girls and their moms, looked from the TV set to our sleeping cherubs, and then looked at each other in horror. Ohmigod, is that what's in store for us?

And thus began for me a years-long stretch of what-ifs and how-can-we-avoids. Books like Reviving Ophelia and Odd Girl Out both hurt and helped my state of mind: they vehemently, painstakingly confirmed that I had Something to Fear while at the same time offering a glimmer of hope that school was at least part of the problem. Aha! I didn't have any real hope that I'd be able to avoid an adversarial relationship with my future teen girls, but school—and in particular the red flag danger zone of middle school—we could do something about. Our tentative homeschooling plan was born.

As most of you know, that homeschooling-for-middle-school plan has evolved into an unschooling-from-3rd-grade-on plan. What you may not know is what it's meant for my relationship with my daughters, including Chiara. And all their friends. And teenagers everywhere.

I found out something fascinating! Did you know that teenagers are PEOPLE?! Yes, really! It's the most amazing thing! They have ideas and interests and opinions, insecurities and hopes and dreams. They tell me things I never knew ALL THE TIME. They introduce me to people and places and experiences I would have missed otherwise. And it takes so little effort to make friends with them, I'm embarrassed for adults everywhere who freeze up when faced with a teen to talk to. As a group, teenagers are the most creative people I know, with eager brains and compassionate hearts. And all they really want from us is respect.

Why is this such a well-kept secret?

I think the answer is this: Most adults do not want to give teenagers any respect. It's inconvenient. It's not how we were raised. It's scary. And the simple fact is that it seems easier to just lay down the law. "My way or the highway" and "As long as you live under my roof."

Of course, that is exactly false. It is that attitude right there that leads almost inevitably to that adversarial relationship I so feared, a relationship that is stressful, difficult, and time-consuming in the extreme, one that often leads to lifelong damage and expensive psychotherapy.

There is an alternative! The main thing I had to do to become what I am now—a parent who is thoroughly enjoying her teenagers and who feels privileged to be a part of this great adventure they're on—was to learn to really listen to my kids. For years, I have made an effort to put myself in their shoes in every situation, to see through their eyes. And now that they're teenagers, I try to remember that it is their job right now to expand their own horizons and build their own lives.

That knowledge of their quest makes every decision a simple one—not always easy, but simple. It is not my timetable that matters, it's theirs. Any attempt I make to hold them back from what they feel ready for is going to lead to resentment, anger, secrets, and fights. Sometimes what they're ready for isn't comfortable for me. Sometimes it takes tremendous courage for me to set that discomfort aside and trust what they know. But I do it, because it's not about me. It's about them, and it's about saying "yes" to the steps they want to take.

MJ feels ready to hang out with 17 and 18 year olds. (Deep breath, you'll call me if there's drinking and you need a ride, okay, yes.) Chloe feels ready to walk the neighborhood alone. (Deep breath, you have the cellphone, okay, yes.) MJ feels ready to see an intimate documentary about an illegal drug. (Deep breath, you can talk to me if any of it is upsetting, okay, yes.) Chloe feels ready to experiment with haircolor. (Deep breath, you understand hair dye is permanent, okay, yes.)

It's about reexaming my own attitudes about... oh, everything. Sure, I have my own experiences, my own lessons learned, and I do my best to share my nuggets of wisdom with them. But when it comes to their lives, I am the ignorant one. I am the learner. I don't really know this world they live in; it isn't the same world I lived in when I was their age. I don't really know what's best for them. All I know for sure is that my girls will always tell me how it is and what they need from me.

Contrary to popular wisdom, my job is not to set limits. I don't have to restrict their exploration or make judgments about their choices or set curfews or punish them for transgressions against my arbitrary rules. Instead, my job is to work with them to recognize the principles that we all want to live by, principles of trust, respect, honor, legality, and good manners. My job is to support them, to listen, to be available, and, yes, to arrange transportation. My job is to offer resources and time and nuggets and—rarely—a shoulder when one of them discovers she's made a bad choice.

Yeah, that's a lot of jobs! :-) I'm working pretty hard, and sometimes it gets complicated. But we're all having a good time! No venom here. And I'm doing my best to spread the word: Teenagers are fun!