I went to two back-to-school nights for Dex and Neve, and as usual, I found myself totally wowed by lots of teachers, and sending mental energy to the few that are clearly just phoning it in. I know I could not do what they do all day, that’s for sure, even though I am a teacher myself. It’s apples and oranges: I deal with concepts and material and intellectual growth. Grammar and junior high teachers expend so much energy trying to keep kids’ attention and behavior managed while also looking out for learning styles and differences and bullies and lord, in some places, even the students’ weight  and health. That’s a lot to ask in 6 hours of underpaid work. 

But I digress.

So I sat there among parents I’ve known for a while, and as I gazed at their faces, I wondered what everyone wanted for their kids. There were a few whose intentions I knew very clearly, ranging from perfection and honors to just getting their kid to pass every class. Most people’s motivations were muddy to me –they said they wanted their child happy and engaged, but we all fall off the wagon and turn into dictators now and then. We want them happy doing whatever it is we have decided is worth doing, yes? I recall how ridiculed I was when I said that I really believed that Dex’s obsession with comic strips was a sort of research–he is always reading and re-reading and drawing them. Who knows, maybe he’ll do something with it? Who am I to judge passions? But that was an easy one: I happen to love comic strips and can see the value in them. But what if it was something I didn’t approve of? It got me thinking about my own motivations and how I can better line up my behavior with my intentions. 

I am inspired by creative people. I always think about Spike Jonze, who is a massively successful director of singular vision — and has very little formal education. He skateboarded and played with video cameras in junior high, and flunked out of high school by the time he was 15. By 17 he had shot music videos and started magazines and, to date, has made a ton of money and earned high respect across genres. Money was never the goal, it was the creation of the idea, the execution of the idea, and the pursuit of a better idea that made him happy– and that, to me, is a formula that last a lifetime.

I’ve been hearing a lot of buzz lately about how nasty junior high is, and how there really is nothing you can do about it. How you have to just throw up your hands and let the bullying happen and they will survive. Are you telling me that we with all the institutions and focus groups and researchers, we still can’t get a handle on adolescent cruelty?  I don’t buy it. I think that is something we tell ourselves and each other because we don’t have methods and strategies to deal with these issues, en masse or individually. It’s feels like a self-fulfilling prophecy, the way we expect 2 year olds to be brutal and teenagers to drink and drive and marriage to be a ball and chain–we expect junior high to be a social test. Maybe we could spend less time expecting teachers to be weight  watchers and empower and pay them to do team-building exercises. Maybe there should be less time spent on geography and more on sociology. They are not learning squat if they are miserable, I think we can all agree on that. There has to be a better way to help these kids through this phase.

I have actually had kids admit to me that they would rather make their parents and teachers angry by being a jerk in school than be bullied. This has got to be a community effort; we can’t just turn our backs in relief because our kids survived the gauntlet. The first step, in my mind, is stop shrugging your shoulders when you hear tales of cruelty amongst kids. It’s 2010 and kids are still getting locked in lockers. Nevermind the myspace/facebook cruelty that is all underground. It is so easy to insult people on the internet; look at the responses on you tube sometime– they are 90 percent foul. Our pop culture swings on mutual insult and foul exchanges. Be brave. See my space for what it is  – social networking tool? it is a social superiority tool –and just say no. Encourage the kids to be in relationships in which they speak face-to-face so they can read cues and understand subtle emotions. We cannot be afraid to teach them that, as Dorothy Day said, “It feels good to be kind to people, and it feels awful to be cruel.”

I have to state upfront that this is a really great problem to have, as far as I am concerned. Meaning, I have choices to make, and I can make them, which is a far cry from the alternative. It has been this tricky dance of whose needs are greatest as I maneuver through my obligations and responsibilities these days. Most women in the “sandwich” generation are like my sister-in-law, who is being torn in two by aging, ill parents in one state and a job and husband in another. She has children, but they are in their twenties and not a day-to-day demand. Which, if there is any blessing in this exhausting scenario, it is that she can go home and collapse if she needs to.

My mother is ill, but at least she lives with me, which makes it much easier–on me, at least, and I think it is easier for her, too. My kids are a constant responsibility, and although my mother is utterly undemanding, she is always on my mind, too. Much like a child, you wonder, did I spend enough time with her today? Does she feel loved? Does she feel lonely? Does she have enough juice, sleep, stimulation? I had to laugh the other day as I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth at midnight, listening to Tom snore: I expend so much energy making sure everyone under this roof has my attention, concern, strength, love and affection and organizational skills. Do any of them wonder if I am getting enough juice? Yeah, right. But see, that’s my problem. The downside of seeming (notice I said seeming) capable and invincible is you teach people to look right past you. And you know, I can’t see that there is anything redeeming about that anymore, especially since it is echoed in my profession. I know people who are emotionally indefatigable, but I am not one of them. I only have so much in reserve every day.

I love having my mother close by. And I think it has been a real gift for both the kids and my mom to live together, as they all adore helping each other out. But I am the lynchpin here, and all summer I wondered how long I can hold out at this pace, especially if I am teaching. I knew I would never regret taking time off from teaching, but I would always regret not being available to my mother. As I stewed over all of this, a gift from the powers that be dropped in my lap. A  job that would allow me a more flexible schedule and the ability to drop everything and help my mother if need be. A job that–and this is the dreamiest part–I do not have to dress for. 

It took me about a minute to decide. My department head was very supportive. I can’t tell you the relief. It took me this long to write about it because, honestly, I kept wondering if it was unreal, and I’d wake up to some horrible message on my voice mail retracting everything.  I feel like someone just hooked me up to oxygen. 

I tell you, these are great problems to have.

Certain things about Colin’s development have been improved by having these older siblings. He is hyper-articulate, knows all the slang, and he knows how to hold an audience — as well as every type of sports equipment.  And he is happy to have any of us do things for him, rather than focusing on mom or dad for meals, baths, bed, etc.  Other things have definitely been sacrificed at the feet of the age range and my available time. The teenager’s emotional angst is way more important to me than what container Col drinks from; the fight Neve had with her best friend that has her sobbing under her bed takes precedence over the fact that Col still sleeps in his crib.

Tom was giving me a hard time about Colin still engaging in “baby” behavior, etc. It’s true, the other two were in beds, toilet trained, said goodbye to sippy cups and naps by 3. And we are closing in on three and none of that has been done.  I listened, and I looked at him, but all I could think was, I can’t get all in a knot about a this stuff when I’ve got an 8th grader who thinks school is truly an ancient system for mind control. It’s like all available channels are tuned to the emotional needs. It’s like the cliche: he won’t go to college with a bottle in his mouth. I  know Colin won’t be in a crib much longer, and I know he’ll get the toilet training thing soon enough. So what if the kid needs to suck on something to comfort himself–heck, I need my tea to make it through the day. I can’t panic about things I know I could control–it’s the stuff I can’t control that makes me worry.

It’s an emotional week for me. Dex and Neve launched into their respective school years, Neve a bundle of excited energy. and Dex hunched under the weight of his backpack already. We had this sort of emotional collison in the car yesterday. I had them both in the car after school, which hardly ever happens, and yesterday was evidence that it isn’t a great idea. Neve bubbled on and on about how great her day was, every detail crucial to her tale, while I watched Dex sink lower and lower into his seat. I could almost hear him thinking, “Enjoy it while it lasts, kid, because pretty soon you’ll be working as hard as I am.”  When I asked him how his day was, he said, “Fine.”

It’s a delicate game, Dex and school. He is so much more than I ever was — more together, wiser, more intelligent — he takes my breath away sometimes. But he is a happy guy, believes we are here to learn to be more humane, and is determined to stay that way. It’s his modus operandi, not something he decided in rebellion, it’s just who he is.  If I was hurdle jumper at his age (like Neve is), he is meandering down a gentle stream.  Whether you are a parent, coach, teacher, friend or relative, he loves and respects you, but he isn’t about to base his self-esteem on  pleasing you. He reminds me of my nephew, who is in his 20’s and just finished grad school. Like Dex, he was totally on the ball and bright and energetic, but you could not convince him there was any value to basically the entire school curriculum. He saw it as busywork: useless, one huge obedience test.  But he did okay, and went to college, where he saw the same busywork reappearing  –until he found a subject he was passionate about and felt relevant to him. And he easily did well in his pursuit of what he loved and had fun learning as much as he could.

What confuses Dex about school– and just proves to me that this boy is completely more evolved than I wll ever be — is the fact that it thinks it is building community when in fact all it does is separate kids into groups and teach them to compete against each other. To him, it is destroying that which it attempts to build.