I believe there’s one universal truth about engaging with a teenager, in my case, a 15-year-old boy: Conversations rarely happen.
Yes. That’s a fact. At least in my household it is.
It takes a lot of effort to engage my firstborn in a conversation. Not because I don’t want to mind you.
On the contrary, I love those moments when we’re having deep, meaningful exchanges. I wish we could have them more often because I love my son. I love getting into his head to understand his thoughts. To know what fuels him. Excites him. Galvanises him. Even paralyses him.
Especially what paralyses him! I mean which father doesn’t have at least a modicum of a protective instinct over his flesh and blood?
And who wants to swoop in for the rescue any moment he’s called upon?
The Reality of (Not) Engaging Well
Most days, my son looks more like some hologram hovering around his phone, tablet, or school assignments. Answers from him (if at all) are given either in short grunts or mono-syllables.
And another thing. Nothing fazes him. Which, to many, may seem a good thing. But it also kinda prevents his parent from knowing what’s going on behind the mild-mannered facade and poker face.
When he was still in preschool, it was so much easier. He was expressive and would tell me what was going on all the time. I would tell him what I need and he would acquiesce without so much as a protest.
Cos you do that when you’re a kid.
Your parents are your whole world and you would pretty much do whatever they tell you in complete and innocent trust. Without much if any hesitation. And never viewing it as anything annoying.
Which brings me to the part about taking a lot of effort.
Most days now I feel like I’m the one annoying him with my frequent questions. Questions like…
…how was your day son?
…who are you meeting to study with?
…would you like to join us at the family meal table?
…what do you think about…?
And the list goes on.
When Engaging With Teens, Get Used To Silence
It’s come to a point now that when I get moments alone with him, I actually don’t know how to break the ice!
I would sieve through a million questions in my mind to get a conversation going. Then toss out all of them. Because they were either too boring, too kitschy, too naggy, or any number of reasons. This isn’t exactly a proud confession, given I’m a writer, and writers are supposed to be in the business of creation and good with asking questions.
In the end, I have to learn to go slow. To be patient. Like some Chinese qigong grandmaster. Unfettered. Unhurried. Biding my time til the moment’s right.
Yet when the moment is right, my tongue’s tied!
So much for parenting well.
Then again, talking gets too much credit in daily conversations. Maybe it’s time to redirect my attention to, well, paying attention. To watching, listening, and pondering. It’s gonna happen with most teens anyway. Silence. Whether by intention or accident.
So the sooner I learn to accept that, maybe the easier this whole parenting-a-teen challenge will get.
Then, engaging my son can stop feeling like I’m swimming across the Pacific.
Trying not to drown in an ocean of silent uncertainty.
