How many stories concerning teens start with OMG?
Most of them! :)
That's why adults are charged with learning how to do more than drum logic into youths' inexperienced brains. I mean, if you don't know what your kids are doing then how can you coach them to do otherwise before the police knock on your front door ... which, thank goodness, only happened at our house, once!
Feel the need to inject logic into a teen-aged think tank? Here's the first thing you'll need to do:
Learn what it takes to role model how not to go off the deep end yourself while listening to what they suggest is just a night of simple-minded fun, which stays simple unless—rule breakers get caught!
Can you imagine how exhausting life would be if we knew every rule broken?
Had I known half of what my kids were up to, I'd never have gotten a wink of sleep!
Upon listening to story after story, I'd respond: Holy smokes! Who raised you? Where was your mom while all of this was going on? It's not as if I went to sleep before they got home! If you asked me, I was vigilant, which they interpreted as paranoid, but judging from the stories we heard after boys-will-be-boys grew into men, I wasn't vigilant, eagle-eyed or paranoid, enough!
Think of it this way. My sons—class leaders and national honor society students, one and all—had been raised with positively focused, logical and natural consequences from crib to college—even so, high school stories they relate as adults, give me gooseflesh. OMG! You guys could have been arrested!
Though I learned about some of their shenanigans whenever one of the three was caught in the act of being young, I'd no clue as to what went down those nights after I'd fall asleep, thinking all three safely tucked into bed, when, in truth, one or another was cavorting about town with a bud, who'd sneaked out, as well.
I mean what was I thinking?
Hadn't Will admitted to doing exactly that during his youth?
Having raised three teen-aged guys, I've experienced parenting from the angle of public high school as well as paying hefty private school tuitions, where parents were led to believe our children were being educated in a protective environment safe from the mean streets ...
Think kids in private school are safe from experiencing the same teen-aged mayhem as those in public school? Think again, my friends, and this time—think smart ...
The one significant plus that private school held over the public domain was this fact: My youngest son had to apply more brain power to win top grades than his older brothers had—however, one look at their adult lives, today, suggests that all three have reached levels of success that parents hope will be achieved as personal values shape up and character traits continue to develop ... and though I believe this holds true of our sons for many reasons, here is the first that comes to mind: No matter where kids go to school, it's natural for trouble to lie in wait to tempt them every time they leave the safe haven of home, suggesting that the good health of each child's over-all development depends upon the kind of support they receive from those who love them after their peer groups tempt them; trouble finds them; Lady Luck deserts them and consequences are handed out, either heartfully fair and square or so harshly as to injure self esteem. You know what I'm saying—just as with everyone else, teens must learn the meaning of balance in all things.
I firmly believe that when youth is raised by loving parents, who've both worked to overcome childhood tragedy, that child has a greater chance of achieving personal and professional long-range goals than a child raised by parents whose negatively focused attitudes place blame for personal or professional failure onto others ...
We were such bad kids, Mom!
This coming from 37 year old David, while enjoying breakfast on that 5th floor veranda, over looking the serenity of the Pacific, where we discussed his teen age years in relation to driving the Le Baron. And once again, I feel the need to steel my ears, knowing that I'm about to listen to a beloved son freely confess to another high school story from hell ...
After listening to my son berate his actions with a mixture of dismayed amusement on my face, the voice of parental experience responds with insight into deeper truth: You weren't bad kids ... You were just kids in that inexperience led you and your buds to believe yourselves impervious to respecting rules for this reason: No matter what a person's age, inexperience mistakenly believes oneself invincible to succumbing to vulnerabilities, lurking in the shadows, lying in wait to attack our strengths as we approach each next stage of life. And thank God we feel invincible while bending rules, because otherwise, we'd simply shrink back, let fear rule our lives and not succeed in leaping over hurtles, which others see as 'impossible' to overcome each time adversity comes knocking at our front door. In truth, there are rules that make sense for some but not for all. That's why discretion is necessary when deciding which rule to follow, which to break and which to bend just enough to embrace life's most passionate joys, which are ours to experience when we stretch past societal limits, inhibiting us from developing into the unique individual that each of us is born to be.
Holy moly!—I think, as David begins to reminisce, aloud about shenanigans he'd experienced with his sixteen-year old, joy-riding friends in my convertible—here it comes, again! Save me from listening to stories that parents don't want to know, dipicting fun and games that entertained our kids on weekend nights when they'd cast off the responsible yokes placed around youth's inexperienced minds in hopes that they'd work hard, week after week, year after year, earning top grades, assuring acceptance into their college of choice ... no wonder why some kids cut loose during their first year away from home. Retrospectively, I'm glad mine dabbled in teen-aged mischief when they were still under my roof, because all three took college and grad school seriously.
Though David, at 37, is smiling at me, uncomfortably, knowing that I feel less than pleased with his discourse concerning teen-aged high jinx in the Le Baron, my son can't stop from murmuring something about 'The Egg-Mobile'. And as this arouses my curiosity, I can't help but ask, was that your nick-name for the convertible?
Yep, replies my adult, hard working, screen writer son, and since my facial expression indicates a mixture of dismayed acceptance, this tale from yesteryear rolls off another story-telling tongue ...
Most of them! :)
That's why adults are charged with learning how to do more than drum logic into youths' inexperienced brains. I mean, if you don't know what your kids are doing then how can you coach them to do otherwise before the police knock on your front door ... which, thank goodness, only happened at our house, once!
Feel the need to inject logic into a teen-aged think tank? Here's the first thing you'll need to do:
Learn what it takes to role model how not to go off the deep end yourself while listening to what they suggest is just a night of simple-minded fun, which stays simple unless—rule breakers get caught!
Can you imagine how exhausting life would be if we knew every rule broken?
Had I known half of what my kids were up to, I'd never have gotten a wink of sleep!
Upon listening to story after story, I'd respond: Holy smokes! Who raised you? Where was your mom while all of this was going on? It's not as if I went to sleep before they got home! If you asked me, I was vigilant, which they interpreted as paranoid, but judging from the stories we heard after boys-will-be-boys grew into men, I wasn't vigilant, eagle-eyed or paranoid, enough!
Think of it this way. My sons—class leaders and national honor society students, one and all—had been raised with positively focused, logical and natural consequences from crib to college—even so, high school stories they relate as adults, give me gooseflesh. OMG! You guys could have been arrested!
Though I learned about some of their shenanigans whenever one of the three was caught in the act of being young, I'd no clue as to what went down those nights after I'd fall asleep, thinking all three safely tucked into bed, when, in truth, one or another was cavorting about town with a bud, who'd sneaked out, as well.
I mean what was I thinking?
Hadn't Will admitted to doing exactly that during his youth?
Having raised three teen-aged guys, I've experienced parenting from the angle of public high school as well as paying hefty private school tuitions, where parents were led to believe our children were being educated in a protective environment safe from the mean streets ...
Think kids in private school are safe from experiencing the same teen-aged mayhem as those in public school? Think again, my friends, and this time—think smart ...
The one significant plus that private school held over the public domain was this fact: My youngest son had to apply more brain power to win top grades than his older brothers had—however, one look at their adult lives, today, suggests that all three have reached levels of success that parents hope will be achieved as personal values shape up and character traits continue to develop ... and though I believe this holds true of our sons for many reasons, here is the first that comes to mind: No matter where kids go to school, it's natural for trouble to lie in wait to tempt them every time they leave the safe haven of home, suggesting that the good health of each child's over-all development depends upon the kind of support they receive from those who love them after their peer groups tempt them; trouble finds them; Lady Luck deserts them and consequences are handed out, either heartfully fair and square or so harshly as to injure self esteem. You know what I'm saying—just as with everyone else, teens must learn the meaning of balance in all things.
I firmly believe that when youth is raised by loving parents, who've both worked to overcome childhood tragedy, that child has a greater chance of achieving personal and professional long-range goals than a child raised by parents whose negatively focused attitudes place blame for personal or professional failure onto others ...
We were such bad kids, Mom!
This coming from 37 year old David, while enjoying breakfast on that 5th floor veranda, over looking the serenity of the Pacific, where we discussed his teen age years in relation to driving the Le Baron. And once again, I feel the need to steel my ears, knowing that I'm about to listen to a beloved son freely confess to another high school story from hell ...
After listening to my son berate his actions with a mixture of dismayed amusement on my face, the voice of parental experience responds with insight into deeper truth: You weren't bad kids ... You were just kids in that inexperience led you and your buds to believe yourselves impervious to respecting rules for this reason: No matter what a person's age, inexperience mistakenly believes oneself invincible to succumbing to vulnerabilities, lurking in the shadows, lying in wait to attack our strengths as we approach each next stage of life. And thank God we feel invincible while bending rules, because otherwise, we'd simply shrink back, let fear rule our lives and not succeed in leaping over hurtles, which others see as 'impossible' to overcome each time adversity comes knocking at our front door. In truth, there are rules that make sense for some but not for all. That's why discretion is necessary when deciding which rule to follow, which to break and which to bend just enough to embrace life's most passionate joys, which are ours to experience when we stretch past societal limits, inhibiting us from developing into the unique individual that each of us is born to be.
Holy moly!—I think, as David begins to reminisce, aloud about shenanigans he'd experienced with his sixteen-year old, joy-riding friends in my convertible—here it comes, again! Save me from listening to stories that parents don't want to know, dipicting fun and games that entertained our kids on weekend nights when they'd cast off the responsible yokes placed around youth's inexperienced minds in hopes that they'd work hard, week after week, year after year, earning top grades, assuring acceptance into their college of choice ... no wonder why some kids cut loose during their first year away from home. Retrospectively, I'm glad mine dabbled in teen-aged mischief when they were still under my roof, because all three took college and grad school seriously.
Though David, at 37, is smiling at me, uncomfortably, knowing that I feel less than pleased with his discourse concerning teen-aged high jinx in the Le Baron, my son can't stop from murmuring something about 'The Egg-Mobile'. And as this arouses my curiosity, I can't help but ask, was that your nick-name for the convertible?
Yep, replies my adult, hard working, screen writer son, and since my facial expression indicates a mixture of dismayed acceptance, this tale from yesteryear rolls off another story-telling tongue ...
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