What I learned in high school.

I graduated from high school the first time in 1975. I was an excellent student, I never got into trouble and spent most of my time in the theatre rehearsing for the next musical. I played softball (third base in case you are wondering), held some student council offices and sang at school masses (yes, I sang Kumbaya too many times to count). I was a favorite of many of the nuns. My high school experience was not remarkable. No significant lessons come to mind with the possible exception of learning to deal with getting a part in the chorus rather than a lead.

My daughter Scout will graduate from high school tonight at 7pm. I can say without hesitation that I have learned a great deal this time around.

When Scout started high school, I was an intense, type A, micromanaging baby boomer mother with an intense, type A, micromanaging baby boomer partner. And we thought that qualified us to be especially good parents of a high school student. We learned that these qualities can be liabilities.

When Scout started high school, we both worked full time. More than full time. We thought that your kids needed you less the older they got. After all, we were only a cell phone call away. We learned that older kids need you more.

When Scout started high school, we believed we knew what was best. We knew that the fast track was the only track and that success was measured by grades and SAT scores. We were sure that there was a correlation between academic rigor and success. We learned that success takes on many, many forms. We learned that rigor is highly over-rated.

At the midpoint in Scout?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s high school career, I left my job and returned home. Eileen and I made a decision together about what our family needed and we determined that one of us should be home. I raised my hand. I was ready for a change anyway. We thought it would help our kids ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú that the change would be good for them. Little did I know that we would be the ones changed.

In no particular order, here are some of the things I?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢ve learned during Scout?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s Junior / Senior year:

?¢‚Ǩ¬¢ Keep a fully stocked pantry. Teenagers like to eat. Feed them and they will come. Otherwise, they will wind up at someone else?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s house. And that someone else might not be home.
?¢‚Ǩ¬¢ Avoid the question ?¢‚Ǩ?ìHow was your day??¢‚Ǩ¬ù Can seem too intrusive. Try ?¢‚Ǩ?ìWhat?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s going on??¢‚Ǩ¬ù A bit less threatening. I?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢m serious.
?¢‚Ǩ¬¢ Be nice to your kids?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢ teachers. Regardless of what you think of them. In fact, be a bit nicer to the ones who are clueless. They never get positive feedback. Say something nice first and then raise your concern.
?¢‚Ǩ¬¢ There are 423,524 ways to wake your kid up in the morning to go to school. I know them all. Most of them don?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t work. My personal favorite is threatening to come in to Scout?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s room in my birthday suit. I don?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t think I have ever seen such a disgusted look on her face. The other fun technique is to grab a small cup of water and pretend to sneeze. While sneezing, spray your teenager with water from the cup. Their eyes will be closed ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú they won?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t see the cup.
?¢‚Ǩ¬¢ Try not to repeat yourself. I am always sure that Scout does not hear me. The clues seem obvious to me. Staring at the computer, tweezing that one pesky eyebrow, listening to some song about a guy who is having one last Ring Ding before he jumps off a bridge. She never looks like she heard me. Teenagers hear everything. It?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s the grownups that can?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t hear a damned thing.
?¢‚Ǩ¬¢ Be spontaneous from time to time. For no good reason, ask your teenager to grab a bite to eat with you. You might end up having a big fight at the sushi bar because your daughter thinks you chew like a cow, but it will be worth it.
?¢‚Ǩ¬¢ Pick your battles. If you raised a concern about every thing your teenager did that was problematic, there?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢d be so little time for anything. You?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢d never get into the shower or get to the grocery story. And for a teenager, one criticism from you already feels like ten.

These are all minor lessons and of course there are many more. Learning how to keep your mouth shut on college tours, learning how not to have an aneurism while your kid is taking the SAT?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s, what to do when you absolutely hate your teenager?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s boyfriend (not you, Andrew. You, we like.)?¢‚Ǩ¬¶ All topics for another day.

But the two most important lessons for me were these.

I learned that type A, micro-managing baby boomers have two settings. On and off. They are either all over something or they check out all together. I confess that I have all but written a paper for my daughter (that?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s the micro-managing part). And while I was working, sometimes I could just shut it off ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú I could block out what was or wasn?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t happening.

Neither setting works when it comes to raising teenagers. And so big lesson #1: Learn to let go a little. It is really, really hard. Those parents with ?¢‚Ǩ?ìhelicopter?¢‚Ǩ¬ù tendencies are hard wired to get it all done, no matter what. In these last two years, this may be the most valuable lesson I?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢ve learned.

I take that back. The most valuable lesson I?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢ve learned is that we have a remarkable daughter. High school was not always easy for her. We all know those people who sail through high school ?¢‚Ǩ‚Äú best this, most likely to that. Scout?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s journey was an adventure with many twists and turns. For a lesser person, I?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢m not sure how it would have turned out. But Scout is not a lesser person. She is strong, very tall, very funny and very determined. She has the strongest moral compass of anyone I know. She speaks her mind and when she needs help she asks for it. She is talented and wicked smart. She gives anyone who knows her a run for their money and her loyalty to those she loves knows no bounds. Maybe I knew all these things all along but for the past two years, I have had the privilege of having a front row seat. Privilege doesn?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢t even begin to describe it.

This morning when I went down to make coffee, I saw Scout?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢s graduation cap on the table. I tried it on. I stared in the mirror and I started to cry. Not because I looked like a wrinkled 49 year old woman in a t-shirt and boxers wearing that silly cap. Not because I found myself nostalgic for 1975 and how very long ago it seems to me now. Although those would be reasons aplenty for tears. The tears were about so many other things. Mostly joy.

Then I found myself laughing. Oh my, I thought. If I am crying when I put the hat on, they are going to need a stretcher to carry us out after the commencement tonight. So if you hear on Fox News at 10, that two women were carted off in an ambulance after the graduation ceremony in a NJ suburb, you?¢‚Ǩ‚Ñ¢ll know?¢‚Ǩ¬¶

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