Can We Talk?

Our fourteen year old son has recently become monosyllabic. I can’t quite pinpoint the shift, but he used to chat about his day, join in dinner conversations, sometimes even share his feelings. But now? Now we are largely down to grunts. I know that underneath the tangle of gangly limbs and facial features morphing at an alarming rate beats the heart of my sweet and recognizable child. But the juxtaposition of awkward body parts seems like an apt metaphor for the awkwardness I sense on the inside. It is as if he is so overcome with the metamorphosis of adolescence occurring in fits and starts that the most he can sometimes muster, when making contact with the outside world, is a series of basic responses we are then called to decipher.

This is driving my husband particularly crazy, which makes me laugh, because I am confident that he went through this same Neanderthal phase. But, age appropriate or not, we are committed to walking with our son through this inarticulate season, holding him accountable to some reasonable standard of behavior as we help him to develop an expanded verbal and emotional vocabulary. It may not sound like much, but it feels like a big job as we bump up against a world that often seems to set the bar pretty low.

We never really bought into the “boys will be boys” philosophy when our son was little. It so often seemed to be used by parents as a rationalization for bad behavior and an utter lack of self control. We knew that our son was perfectly capable of taking the roughhousing outside. And while we recognized and celebrated the differences we observed between the ways he and his sisters navigated the world, we had too much respect for him to dumb down our expectations. So now, as then, we are looking not to excuse but to assist and to encourage. Certainly, gender has a fundamental impact on social development and communication skills, but we have a young man to raise here. He may become somebody’s husband. He may become somebody’s dad. Basic consideration and articulation seem to factor in as reasonable expectations. There is much work to be done.

I think that helping children mature into thoughtful, contributing members of society has always been the job of parents. But in past generations a more generally agreed upon set of social mores seemed to better complement this endeavor. I am grateful for many aspects of a less rigid society that celebrates individualism and free expression. But sometimes these terms feel a bit like a smokescreen for self-absorption and immaturity. If everybody keeps fixating on getting their needs met, things are going to get pretty ugly around here. Facebook, “tweeting”, and reality T.V. are some of the cornerstones of contemporary culture premised on a desire for self expression and a hunger for attention that sometimes feels like a relentless and desperate cry to “Look at me! Look at ME!” It is as if one is not living if life is not lived out loud – with copious amounts of feedback.

Much of my distaste for this self-focused approach to life stems from the fact that it often leaves out the “other” in social interactions. My hope in working with my son to move past his non-responsive state is to help him arrive at a place that honors both himself and those with whom he interacts. I do not want him to become a pleaser or repressed or sacrifice his individuality. I don’t want to emasculate him. But I do not want him to settle for truncated social/emotional development just because he’s a guy, and lots of guys limp through life with seriously limited interpersonal skills. These guys often seem to be the ones who put their fists through walls (or worse) when they’re frustrated. And they seem to be the ones who are frequently frustrated. Being macho – and monosyllabic – looks mighty lonely.

And that is why we are doing a little sensitivity training around here. Not only are we looking for some sort of response beyond “fine” to the question, “How was your day?” but we are hoping that he might actually begin inquiring about ours – and sincerely care about the answer. This fourteen year old of ours is a great kid, and I know that he does care. But in reminding him that he is an integral part of a larger whole and that his mood and manners have a fundamental impact on the rest of us, we hope that we are helping him to make connections that he can take with him out into the broader world. How he chooses to walk through his day will have a profound impact on the way that it will unfold, and on the people around him. Connecting in meaningful ways with the others in his life feels good, just as it feels good to be able to connect with himself. Way better than putting his fist through a wall.