Diatribe against the media is a daily onslaught. The media is fake. False. It thrives on witch hunts. Journalists wake each morning, grab their Starbucks and plot how best to harass those in public life.
Certain politicians fight back. They shout journalists down, encourage supporters to “body slam” the media from any patriotic venue. Many Americans find such behavior acceptable because nosy individuals have no right to ask questions.
However, more rational minds compare this current “war” on the media to schoolyard bullying. Why are politicians acting like children?
Not children.
Teenagers.
Let’s take a trip down memory lane to the good old days when my children returned from school and flung their backpacks to the floor. They pulled out a worksheet or drawing to share with pride while rattling off the day’s important events:
“Joe had a birthday and his mom brought in cupcakes!”
“The teacher rearranged the desks, and they look stupid.”
“Samantha brought in her pet gerbil. Can I have a rabbit?”
My children did not always relay facts with perfect accuracy. They exaggerated and added extra detail for dramatic effect. But what mattered was they loved to tell me everything.
Then they grew older, and something changed. I had to ask about their day. In return, I received grunts, one word answers and eye rolls. And the struggle for information became, well, a struggle. Even though I understood this “breaking away” was part of normal maturation, it was bittersweet. Suddenly I was no longer “in the loop.” My children confided in their friends, and I was thrown out of the club without prior notice that a blackball process was in motion. My husband and I were not cool. We no longer possessed a shred of valuable information. We had lovingly created a family narrative; now several characters leaped from the page and dashed off to foreign places.
And the biggest hurdle was my children’s indignation that I dared question them at all. I mean, who did I think I was? Their business was not my business, and I had no right to seek information.
Parents handle this problem in various ways. I knew some mothers who searched through their kids’ phones and combed Facebook. (A mother takes on many roles; playing Inspector Gadget was never my specialty.) Other parents went the “text me every hour or I’m coming to find you” route. One mother boasted she spoke to her eighteen-year-old daughter at least seven times a day because they were “best friends”. (Sometimes our children are in crisis mode and need constant support, but that is a different situation.)
Then there was the other extreme: parents who adopted the “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy. These were the cool parents who allowed their kids to have parties in the house and pretended they weren’t aware of the alcohol or parents who refused to believe their child ever told a deliberate lie.
I’m not sure where I stood. Sometimes I obsessed and nagged. Occasionally I made inquiries of other mothers. (My children referred to my friends as “The JPA” or “Jewish Parents Association.”) Other times, I received an answer that was clearly false but let the matter drop. Perhaps I grew lazy or feared hearing something unfortunate I would have to deal with. I never found the perfect balance between “parent who knows every detail” and the “let’s just pretend everything is fine” parental variety. If anything, I was too lax.
But gone are the days when kids could call over their shoulder: “Going out!” and parents would say: “Great, just be home by dinner.” Life has become too frightening. Drug, alcohol abuse and mental health issues are on the rise. Parents can’t always look the other way. We are incapable of helping our children if we don’t know the truth about their lives. So how do we keep communication lines open?
First, we can understand part of a teenager’s reluctance to confide is they believe we can’t understand or help. Parents can be honest and admit we might not have all the answers, but we can learn along with our kids. Kids fear we won’t love them if we discover their “weaknesses.” We can lessen this fear by loving our children unconditionally and never appearing to base affection on grades, sports prowess or numbers of friends. We can avoid a rush to judgment and ditch the obvious agenda. Our goal should be to create meaningful dialogue and not to snag the quick response. Children are more amenable to discussion at particular times of day or in certain locations like their bedrooms, around the dinner table or during a car ride. (It’s also important to remember that some spaces might be off limits.) And we can follow our own advice by shutting our mouths and listening. It’s remarkable how much kids will talk if we stay silent. Effective methods will vary by family and even among siblings. Let’s not wait to place these strategies into effect. The earlier we begin; the easier communication will be when kids hit the dangerous years.
Finally, we need to pick our battles and stay focused on important matters including mental health, safety and academic concerns. Not every conversation should become an interrogation scene from a “B” movie in which a policeman with rolled up sleeves ties the two-bit hood to a chair, shines a bright light and barks questions. Jews understand the importance of open discussion, and most of us want our kids to maintain active and inquisitive minds. But what about our need to know? We should encourage our children to accept that honest concern prompts our questions and receiving information is a parental right.
Asking questions of our teenagers — or those in public life — does not make us audacious, rude, or transform us into troublemakers. When something is important, it is worth learning about.
And while we must respect our children’s independence and privacy, we also have a right to know.
This was published in The Jewish Advocate on June 9, 2017.
