by Stacey DeWitt

Our children were out for Spring Break last week.   As we headed to the beach, I looked through our bookshelf to find something inspiring to read and landed on a book called, The Measure of a Man, a spiritual autobiography by Sidney Poitier.  I had purchased it a few months earlier since Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner (1967) has always been my favorite movie and To Sir with Love and A Patch of Blue rank in my top five. Given Poitier’s great body of creative work, I thought he might have something to say on the spiritual side.  Turns out, I was right.  The book is excellent, but more importantly, I made a profound connection with Poitier’s message.

As CEO of Connect with Kids, I often speak on the topic of "Affluenza" to parents, teachers, and students.  And as I read Poitier’s book, I was fascinated by the fact that an African-American man – who is more than 30 years my senior, who was born in the Bahamas and endured the prejudice of the 40s, 50s and 60s, and who has had a world experience far different than my own –provided validation for the very philosophy we promote in our presentations and programs at Connect with Kids. 

I found myself asking, “What do we have in common?  How is it that Sidney Poitier and I — worlds apart — have come to the same conclusion? After some reflection, the answer surfaced. 

At a young age, both Sidney Poitier and I learned the value of poverty.  Although we came to that understanding in a different time, from a different race, a different generation, and on different corners of the planet, we both had families that left a legacy of the significant value of commitment, discipline, and character rather than mere pleasure.  He and I both understood as small children before either of us could tell you why, that as Poitier put it “by having very little, I had it very good.” 

He learned directly by experiencing that poverty as a young child. I, a generation younger, learned indirectly through the legacy of my parents who made sure that even though I was raised in a fairly cushy, white, middle-class environment the lessons they learned in harder economic times were not lost on me. 

But Poitier, far more accomplished than I, says it in a way that touched my soul.  It bears repeating.  So here is a taste of what Poitier has to say about building character in an affluent, pleasure-seeking society, which I hope will whet your appetite enough to find the book and read it in full.

In talking about his own parents, Poitier writes:
"Reggie Poitier (Sydney Poitier’s father) knew what his legacy would be.  He knew and believed in the importance of his role as a father, and he knew that it extended well beyond his capacity as a breadwinner.  He believed in the responsibility and the dignity of his task as a bearer of standards and as an enforcer of standards and he wouldn’t let his relative position in the economic hierarchy of a crazy tourist economy in any way belittle that role. . . The fact is you can’t do that kind of parenting if your values aren’t clear to you in terms of your own life.  You can’t be passing on to your kids a strong foundation if you don’t have one yourself, because whatever foundation you do or don’t have –that’s what you’re going to pass on.  And when we pass on something that doesn’t serve our children, we have to be responsible for that." 

Regarding the subtle shift in values over a series of generations, Poitier writes (and I am paraphrasing) that as early as the 1940s, those coming back from the war were doing a lot of pleasure chasing due to explosive economic prosperity.  It was then that the pleasure principle was introduced.  The war generation of the 40s was responsible for the children of the 60s — who by that time had been so indulged that it caused, for the first time in history, a "distortion of the curve in values."  Sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll (mind-blowing experiences at the time) — in Poitier’s opinion — were simply a more extreme outgrowth of the same hedonism that began in the explosive economy following the war. And, as prosperity and pleasure-seeking matures, values can continue to erode. 

How do we change the tide?  Poitier offers this: "Focus on and examine people who are making enduring commitments."  He talks about famous people such as Nelson Mandela … but he also talks about simple people, including his mother, who got up every day before the sun to wash dishes and scrub clothes by candle light and who never had an indoor toilet.  Poitier notes that his mother found satisfaction in her commitments and in the discipline of hard work because she had never been introduced to the pleasure principle. 

He writes: "Dirt poor . . . I inherited such a legacy, and I pity the kids today who are being raised in such a way that they will be hard-pressed to enjoy the simple things . . . to endure the long commitments and to find true meaning in their lives. Poverty didn’t kill my soul.  Poverty can destroy a person, yes, but I have seen prosperity kill many a soul as well." 

Poitier notes that when children have a sense of pulling their own weight and contributing to the family, they take pride in that contribution and "learn responsibility and discipline through meaningful work."

In my opinion, Poitier is spot on.  It seems that if we can teach children the value of service, the deep satisfaction one can derive from discipline and commitment, then we will go a long way toward building character. Those values are different from the competitive values that are paramount today.  Commitment to service and to work that is critical for interdependence is not the same as a commitment to make a certain grade or win a certain trophy in order to receive external accolades.  It’s difficult to teach that kind of commitment and discipline in an affluent environment that values instant gratification, consumerism, ego and pleasure seeking. But, if we can create smaller interdependent environments at home and at school – environments that offer a counter-perspective through things like simple chores and clear standards –it’s possible a balance will emerge.

That’s our message at Connect with Kids and our goal in the talks we give to kids and parents and the shows we produce about "Affluenza."   Economic prosperity, in and of itself, is neither good nor bad. But the values it can produce will weaken the next generation if we don’t counteract that which instantly gratifies with that which provides substance and endurance through the promotion of commitment, discipline and delayed gratification.

At Connect with Kids, we don’t pretend to have all the answers. We only hope that raising the issue will at least begin a dialogue within individual communities so that those responsible for the children in their care will think about the legacy they leave to those children.

To all of the schools that have invited Connect with Kids to speak, I thank you for the opportunity to participate with your children, parents and faculty. I hope you will continue to find helpful information on our website, in our programs and through our presentations. And thanks for indulging me and taking a minute to read the blog.

By Ginger, from the Mom’s Network

Last night my son and I gathered all the coins that have been accumulating all year long in our Tzedakah box (Tzedakah is a Hebrew word that loosely translated means “charity”) as well as all the change all over our house, put it into two Ziplock bags, and carried it to the Salvation Army bell-ringer at the strip mall near our house. This is the 10th year in a row that we have reserved one night of Hanukkah to give a gift of charity. Our tradition includes feeding all of our coins into the red tin bucket – which takes a full five minutes — during which time we talk to the Salvation Army volunteer about his job, his life, his Christmas, and he talks to us about our lives, our coins, our Hanukah, and I longingly look at my Tahiti fund disappearing into the coin slot. There’s a lot of laughter and warmth and a few surprised looks from passers-by.

Last night was particularly funny because we were just feeding the last few handfuls of coins when a second Salvation Army volunteer came out of the store and saw what we were doing. “Hey, wait a minute!” he yelled, holding up a second red tin bucket and clanging his bell. “I got a bucket, too! And mine’s empty!”

We laughed and immediately gave him our last few ounces of nickels, dimes and quarters, and we joked about the competition for coins and his (lack of) lucky timing. Then, in keeping with our family tradition, we went to get ice cream (it was only 30 degrees last night, and being from Florida, I think ice cream was completely appropriate, don’t you?) Over ice cream I mentioned a radio ad I’d heard that day that said every $26 donated to the Salvation Army buys one child food, clothes and a gift for the holiday season, and we estimated how many children we thought our change would help. We talked about whether or not the volunteers had quotas they had to meet. We talked about how cold they must be, and yet, how cheerful. And then my son told me that he heard there was once a Salvation Army Santa (back when they used to dress as Santas) who went mad and robbed all the other Salvation Army Santas. Leave it to my son to know the urban-legend-horror-movie-version of just about everything.

It was a Norman Rockwell night, alright. But if you turn back the clock just two hours, you would have seen a very different picture. You would have seen my son and me arguing loudly about … dirty socks. I know, I know, it always starts with something small and insignificant and then, through the power of teenage hormones and parental control, it escalates into World War III. It escalates even as I warn my son not to let it escalate. “You want to stop talking back now,” I say, “or one night of being grounded will turn into two. I say all this through gritted teeth as I am trying desperately not to engage in this battle any further myself. “If you keep it up it will not be a happy consequence for you.” Fair warning, right? But what does a 12-year-old in a ridiculous rage over pretty much nothing do when faced with a warning such as that? Why, he ups the ante. He presses the point. He says, “Why not make it three nights, Mom? Four? Ten?”

If I were 12, I would snap back, “Okay, 10 it is!” But I’m not 12 so I don’t get to do that. I do go up to two nights, however, and I provide the warning again. Only I more strongly suggest that he stop. Now. Really.

Then I do the most marvelous thing I learned from other moms.

I leave.

I tell my son I’m going to exercise class, I remind him that he is not allowed to use any electronics except the phone in an emergency or to call his dad, if he likes, and I leave.
I don’t feel anger, I don’t feel frustrated, I feel like the mom of a 12-year-old boy who is mostly a great kid but when he’s disrespectful, he goes for the jugular. And I’m not willing to be his weekly victim. (Well, anymore.)

It doesn’t help my son that I happen to work here at Connect with Kids, where teens are our mission. It doesn’t help that I’ve watched our DVDs Affluenza, Good Kids, Bad Choices, and The Internet Generation and that I’ve learned a lot about what teens go through from other teens and parents and experts. But it does help me.

It helps me to stand firm in raising my son with boundaries, when I more often want to vacillate. It helps me remember that kids today often feel pressure to achieve success in academics and sports but have little responsibilities around the house or in their communities. It helps me know that research shows kids today feel bored, anxious, depressed, empty, unsure of themselves – more than any other generation before us. And part of the reason is us – parents. We try so hard to keep our children from feeling “bad” or “hurt” that we inadvertently stunt their growth. Kids have to feel bad from time to time – remember your first broken heart? Your fights with your best friend?  The times you didn’t get invited to a party? How will our kids learn to maneuver through their world if they don’t learn to maneuver though some tough times? How will they know to trust themselves if they have never had to make a difficult decision on their own?

The simple answer is they won’t. Not if we don’t step out of the way of their growing up. Not if we don’t give them non-intrusive support, clear boundaries and realistic expectations (and learn to take a deep breath when we realize our kids are experts at pushing our buttons.)

Whatever it was I did last night, it must have worked. When I left exercise class I had a message on my cell phone from my son (or some angel impersonating my son) telling me that he’d de-stressed and thought about our fight and that he realized he was very wrong and he wanted to say he was very sorry. I think he even said somewhere in there that I was right.  I played that message three times. I will save that message for eternity. It is, after all, one of one. But it reminded me that when I do provide a consequence (okay, a punishment) I should do it with love – for both my son and myself.

In fact, I could have given my son a lot more “love” last night, but I only gave him two days’ worth. Tonight is the last and final day of my son being grounded. And when I think about it, that’s just what I’m trying to achieve – raising a son who is, in the end, grounded for life.

By Ginger, from the Connect with Kids Moms Network

A friend of mine died this summer. She had barely passed 40. Blonde, bright, freckled, filled with love and perky to the extreme, it seemed impossible that some exceptionally rare disease could take her life in the span of one season. But as her husband and best friend said, ‘I always thought she was one in million. I was wrong; I guess more like one in 10 million.”

Her funeral was as she would have orchestrated it, although I don’t know that she would have imagined the church so overflowing with friends and family. Her children walked down the aisle with their dad. Well, one walked, the other was carried much like a quarterback protecting the prized ball, although a wriggling one at that. You could hear their father whispering softly, soothingly to them. And small sad chuckles from the rows who could actually hear the conversation. One whispered question from her son pierced my heart immediately. Pointing to the altar where his mother lay in peace, he asked, “What’s in the big box, Daddy?” His father, a man never at a loss for words, could not reply.

My friend’s husband gave a eulogy that you would never want anyone to have to say, but that we were all so privileged to hear. From our seats in our pews, we wrapped our arms around him and listened. A man stricken deeply by the much-too-early death of his young wife, but who still felt her love and friendship so alive in his soul, he could smile as he spoke TO her … not about her.

He told us things that those who knew her well already nodded along with. But for me, who knew her a long time but did not know much about this wonderful recent life she had created in Charleston, S.C., I learned things I never imagined. It was a glimpse into the happiness she had created for herself and those around her, and it was palpable. Her friends in the church literally credited her for the life they have been living, a life of “love, love, love” – my friend’s mantra.

Her husband spoke of his best friend … his wife … the mother of his children, with such raw emotions – love, truth, authenticity, loss, passion – but blessedly, no regrets. They had created a life that worked for them in all respects, and they reveled in living it to its fullest. He spoke of his wife as the sun that sent warmth on a cold day … as the stars that lit the darkness … as the anchor to which they held fast … as the beam that guided them. He laughed. He cried. He fell silent when emotions overtook his words. That spoke the loudest of all.

He spoke directly to their children with an urgent desperateness, trying to impart all that  their mother would have wanted them to know about her, all that HE wanted them to know about her… about the way she loved them, about what they would be missing — as if they had to hear, learn, memorize and remember all of her right then, before they left the church. He told their daughter that she had so much of her mother inside of her, and as he took a breath to steady his voice before continuing, his son piped up in his high-octave voice, “What about me?” Breaking the tension and sadness with a question of pure love and innocence and maybe just a hint of precociousness – a knack that was so much his mother that she could have been speaking through him to render such a moment for all of us.

We left the church looking like we had just been converted: tears streaming down our stunned but grinning faces, smiling at the stories and sweet moments shared.

Later that afternoon, there was a moment of sheer joy as a southern, sultry-voiced angel sang by her graveside: one of their best friends crooned Amazing Grace with a strength of sorrow and love that somehow made his wheelchair disappear and made us believe he could soar with the seraphs.

And then, it was a party. Completely befitting both my friend and her husband and their family and friends. She would have been the first to kick off her shoes and go running down the dock to jump in the river in her Sunday best and pearls. And that’s exactly what people started to do. Had she whispered in the ears of her girlfriends? Had she nudged the ribs of their husbands? Had the sun set in such a way as to bathe everyone in a warmth that demanded quenching? Had the stars begun to appear in a way that reminded everyone of the twinkle in her eyes? The reason, the timing, the impetus is a mystery, but within minutes, dozens of grown adults completely dressed – some still in their shoes and hats – leaped from the dock and splashed into the water at the River House, with laughter and tears and shouts to heaven, calling upon their dear young friend to see them, touch them, join them in spirit.

I believe she already had.

If you have experienced the loss of a friend or loved one, I would enjoy hearing from you on this topic. Please feel free to leave a comment. If you know a child who experienced loss or challenges, you may want to review our parent video, Against All Odds, from our award-winning television series. Thank you.

By Ginger S., from the Moms Network

If you had to guess, how many moms in the U.S. do you think go online more than once a day? (Skip down to the end of this blog for your answer, and I’d love to know how many of you were close! Comment me!)

I go online about a half-dozen times a day (or night) myself. Most of it is for my work, but about 30 percent of the time I’m reading news stories and visiting my favorite online communities to see who’s discussing, dishing and dissing.

Last week I happened upon a group of brand-spanking-new moms who were chatting as fast as their fingers could fly. Man! I wish there were online websites when my son was a baby. I can remember being the only one awake in my house either because I couldn’t fall asleep after a 2 a.m. feeding or because I was worrying about some strange new-baby symptom.  It would have been great to have someone to talk to other than the nurse at the Scottish Rite hotline who I think knew my voice by heart. Today, moms just go to their favorite online community and they can pretty much bet there is a bleary-eyed mom (or millions of ’em) on the other end already engaged in dozens of conversations about bottles vs. breast; rice milk vs. soy, feeding or treating a fever – all kinds of forums, chat rooms and message boards for moms to talk to each other, get advice and simply connect with a kindred spirit who also happens to be up in the middle of the night.

So fast-forward 12 years and here I am, thrilled that there are dozens of online sites for parents of adolescents and teens. On my favorite sites I’ve asked other moms dozens of questions about the roller coaster ride of hormones, the survival techniques for homework blues, and the “is this normal” questions that come up all the time. Soon I imagine myself once again awake in the middle of the night, worried about my son who is out past his curfew and isn’t answering his cell phone. Who am I going to call at that hour? Why, I’ll go online to Parents & Company or theantidrug.com or Teendriving.com and find some other moms in some other states also up at 1 a.m. worrying over their kids. And I bet we’d all rather be worried about a diaper rash, don’t you think? 

Sure, I could call one of my close girlfriends or my sister, but why wake them at this hour with what will hopefully turn out to be nothing? And I admit, there is something comfortingly anonymous about talking to women I’ve never seen and probably will never meet about a topic that could make me feel judged or embarrassed. (“What do you mean you don’t know where your kid is? What kind of mom are you?” “Well, I thought he was sleeping over your son’s house…”)

So while I’ll always be glad for face-to-face, hearts-to-hearts, the wisdom shared during my Girl’s Nights Out, the inspiration of PTA parenting workshops and the current event conversations around the “water cooler,” I gotta say that I hope online social communities are here to stay. I look forward to the inventions of Generation Next or Now or whatever they’re called, who have grown up on MySpace and Facebook, and who will surely dream up new and creative ways for us all to connect. And I will ask my son to explain it all to me and hook me up from my room with a view in whatever beachside city to which I retire. Just maybe I’ll see him online one day, up in the middle of the night, asking if anyone knows about some party his daughter said she was going to … and I’ll message him back and tell him not to worry, and if he’d like, he can pick up the phone and call his mom no matter what time it is.

Answer: 61 million moms go online more than once a day

By Ginger S., from the Moms Network

While this was Spirit Week for many schools, my week seemed to have a more sobering theme: risky teen behavior. It began on Tuesday, when I heard Jeff Inman, coordinator of Cobb County’s Prevention Intervention program, speak to a group of parents, teachers and youth leaders. One of the topics we discussed was the latest research showing that the younger a person begins drinking, the greater likelihood that he/she will become dependent on alcohol. This is due in part to the way the teenage brain develops, as well as the social behavior of teens who drink. In addition, if you check out our news story’s tip sheet this week, Preteens Get Alcohol at Home, you’ll read that two-thirds of teens admit they have stolen liquor from their parents’ liquor cabinet or refrigerator. Experts clearly recommend that parents lock up their liquor, not just for your own kids’ sake, but because their friends might try to steal it, too. 

On Wednesday, a friend of mine’s nephew died from an accidental drug overdose. He was 22.  They say he had an addictive personality and prior to using drugs he had racked up a significant online gambling debt. He entered a drug rehab center and had been there 96 days – including having “graduated” to a halfway house. He was, by all accounts, doing very well. My friend said he was considered a leader in the program. The first weekend that he left the halfway house (which is normal protocol) he was found dead from the overdose. I heard that 1700 people attended his funeral.

Finally, on Friday, two 17-year-old Delaware State University students were shot on campus at 1 a.m. on their way home from a group outing at a café. Both were wounded; one is in serious condition. Police think that the gunman is another student, and that the shooting stemmed from an argument. University President Allen Sessoms said, “These are just kids who did very, very stupid things … and we’ve got to deal with that." (CNN.com.)

I get it that kids do stupid things. But drinking, drugs and violence kills millions of kids! And while it may sound lame, as parents, we’ve got to keep talking to our kids about exactly these types of risks and consequences. You may not believe it, but the research shows that parents are the most influential people in a child’s life. Statistics show that kids who learn from their parents the risks of doing drugs are up to 65 percent less likely to use drugs (theantidrug.com). And it’s not just drinking, drugs and violence we need to talk about – although those are big ones. We also need to discuss what I call “stupid teen tricks.” One that comes to mind is trunking – when kids ride in the trunk of a car in order to get around the new driver laws or because there’s not enough room in the car for all their friends. I was telling some kids about our news story that reports several teens have died from this trend, and the kids were rolling their eyes at me and basically saying, “We are so not that stupid.”  Fine. I hope not. But check out the article about Chris Snyder and Scott Atchison. If someone had just mentioned to them the dangers of trunking, maybe they never would have hopped in their friend’s trunk … and they both might be alive today. 

I know that kids will always take risks – that’s probably been going on since Neanderthal teenagers snuck out of the cave at night and stole their fathers’ spears to kill the deer before the grown-ups woke up. But I think it is about not having blinders on and thinking “our kids would never do that.” It is about telling our children what we expect from them and why. It is about being their parents and laying down the law – and yes, sometimes that means they will get really mad at us. That’s okay. I once heard that if your kids aren’t mad at you at least once a week, then you must be doing something wrong. My kid is mad at me at least once a day, — it’s not fun, but I soothe myself by thinking maybe I’m doing something right.

By Stacey Dewitt

Recent research shows that more kids today than ever before are seeing therapists, are depressed, and are on medications for anxiety. What are we as parents doing to contribute to this startling trend? We want so badly for our kids to succeed, but anyone who has ever succeeded at anything knows what failure feels like, and has had to accept it, learn from it, move beyond it. We must let our children experience all of life, the good and the bad. Truths like: life isn’t always fair; it is hard work; you will have to work with people you don’t like; you will lose sometimes; you will not be the best at everything; you will have your heart broken and … you will ultimately grow and learn have what you need inside of you to get by or to thrive (it is, after all, their choice).

As parents, we can be there to love our kids, to give them advice (which they won’t take until they’re in their 30s anyway), to offer them the benefit of what years of life have taught us. But we also need to remember that this life is so different than the one in which we grew up. We’re trying to prepare our children for a world that we can only imagine – one with emerging technology that we may never understand; one that moves at an astounding pace; one that requires such assimilative thinking that we don’t know how our kids will ever do it. And that’s exactly my point. We don’t have to know – we can’t know. And we can’t prepare our kids for that future. They are being prepared simply by living in it, by learning in it, by maneuvering around and finding their way in it. The best thing we can do is guide them, love them, and then get out of the way and let our children simply … live.

Guest Blog from Linda Bachmann,
Connect with Kids Mom’s Network

Yes, it’s just the beginning of August, the sun is shining brightly and today’s heat index and high humidity are frizzing my hair. But despite my yearnings for the smell of Coppertone sunscreen and lazy hours at the pool, in the Southern “neck of the woods,” the back-to-school mindset has already set in.

A friend who teaches kindergarten has already been back to her classroom, hanging the welcoming bulletin boards and colorful backgrounds that await art projects and drawings crafted by tiny hands. Television and newspaper advertising tout school supplies, outfits and sturdy (yet totally fashionable) shoes. And school registration schedules and parents’ night reminders have already arrived – in both mailboxes and e-mail inboxes.

For me, this year represents the last call for back-to-school rituals. While my kindergarten teacher friend will be welcoming students — and parents – venturing into the world of structured classroom experiences and expectations for the very first time, my youngest child is starting her senior year in high school. It’s the very last in a long line of 13 school year starts.

Wow – how did that happen? My eyes already tear up as I complete, for the last time, my back-to-school ritual of marking the coming year’s events — parents’ night, conferences, school plays, and treats for teacher thank-you lunches. But I know another senior year reality is soon to set in: Senioritis.

Wikipedia defines Senioritis as “the decreased motivation toward studies displayed by students who are nearing the end of their high school careers… typically said to include slowness, procrastination, apathy regarding school work, a feeling of entitlement or privilege” – and, apparently, even the tendency to simply not show up for class. While stronger symptoms of Senioritis might not officially set in until the spring semester (when graduation is just weeks away), the anticipation of senior year has already started discussions about free periods, off-campus lunches, senior year perks and plenty of griping about dress code restrictions.

Maybe the best remedy for Senioritis is a strong dose of reality for the college-bound. Neil Clark, the dean of college counseling and guidance at The Walker School in Marietta, Georgia, knows from years of experience that the party is far from over for high school seniors. In a recent e-mail to Walker School seniors, including my daughter, he offered the following game plan for those hoping to start school next year at the college of their choice:

• Call every college of interest to make sure you are on their mailing list – including the three categories of admission likelihood: safety, aim and reach.
• Get Organized. Have a card table or desk for your college applications and a folder for each college with an appropriate checklist for each application.
• Check your senior schedule and make sure you’re meeting graduation requirements.
• Start reviewing the college applications. Common Application is available at http://www.commonapp.org/.
• Start reviewing the necessary essays in your applications.
• Consider retaking ACT and SAT college admissions tests and double check the deadline dates for signing up.
• Complete a simple “resume” of activities, summer involvements, community involvements and leadership roles for any necessary letters of recommendations.
• Start talking to the people you will be asking to write letters of recommendation.  Talk with them about your college visits and summer happenings.
• Plan your fall college visits!
• Get off to positive start on first semester grades!

And from this mom’s perspective, perhaps his most important piece of advice:

• Enjoy your last fall living with your family.

Next year at this time, if all goes as planned, my daughter — and most of today’s high school seniors — will be getting ready to head off to a college campus somewhere … and my day planner will no longer include back-to-school nights, parent-teacher conferences, or dates to provide teacher treats.  And Senioritis will be replaced with the anticipation of freshman year, once again.

From the Moms Network
Got a camper? Free “letter-to-go” with fill-in-the-blanks makes it easy for your camper to stay in touch.

My middle school son can’t decide which toothpaste to use each morning (mint or cinnamon?) so what makes me think that he can decide in January that he wants to go to sleep away camp in July? But that’s what he said. And because he is 12 going on 20, I took him at his word.

What was I thinking?

All during the school year he was excited, thinking about which activities he’d choose, whether or not there would be a “camp dance,” and figuring out exactly how far north Maine is from Georgia (yes, Maine — why I couldn’t choose from the 120 camps within a two-mile radius of our home I have no idea). So, July comes, we label every garment and pack the duffle bag until it can barely zip – a task that by itself could swear me off of summer camps forever – and head for the airport. We meet some of his friends and their parents, and his dad and I say goodbye at the security check-in, leaving him in the very capable hands of the permanently cheerful camp chaperone.

Thank goodness we did not accompany him to the gate, because by the time I left the airport, I would have been walking with a hundred-pound child clinging to my ankle. Dragging my son through the terminal and down the escalator while he’s yelling, “Please don’t make me go!” would not have been a pretty sight for anyone. Instead, we left him with a hug and a kiss and these words of encouragement: “If you really think you are going to throw up, find a bathroom fast.”

His dad and I get in the car at the airport parking lot, and that’s when the phone calls began. Apparently he borrowed a cell phone from one of his friend’s moms at the gate (who, I’m sure, had no idea he would use it to beg, plead and negotiate with us) and called us five times in 10 minutes. Let me tell you: not turning around to get him was the hardest thing I have done since I gently placed him in his crib, only to sit outside his room and listen to him cry for an hour because Dr. Spock said that’s the only way to get a baby to sleep through the night and to learn to nurture himself. Okay, so where was this self-nurturing now?

During the first phone call from the gate my son was still understandable. “Please don’t make me go.”
The second phone call he was barely audible. “Please. Please. Please.”
The third phone call was, “I will never love you again.”
I took this as a sign of progress – he had moved from self-pity to blame.
The fourth phone call? I didn’t answer it. Nor the fifth. Or the sixth.
Then the calls stopped. And so did my heart. For a second or two, anyway…

That evening, the camp director called and said that my son was still a bit upset but certainly not the worst case of homesickness they had seen – not even that day. I sent a silent prayer to the parents of the children who were more anxious than mine, and hoped that they too, had turned off their cell phones.

By the next morning, my son had been appointed to the camp welcoming committee, had gone kayaking with one of the counselors, and had signed up for the ropes course, pottery, trapeze, archery and had tried out for the play and gotten a part. I resisted the urge to tell myself, “I told you so.”

Now it’s two weeks into camp, and I have heard from my son once. And that’s probably only because they require each kid to write at least one letter. The letter was upbeat, nearly illegible, and incredibly brief. What else could I ask for?

A lot of growing has happened in the two weeks since we left our son hyperventilating at the airport. Making new friends. Overcoming fears. Trying new things. And that’s just what his dad and I have been doing.

I can’t wait to hug the child who walks off that plane at the end of July. But chances are, this month away at camp will have encouraged exactly what all parents hope for on this journey from child to adult: a sense of independence, accomplishment and newfound teenage self-reliance that may make public hugs (especially from Mom) a thing of the past.

Click here for a free template that makes it easy for your kids to write home!

Print copies of this template and send with your camper along with envelopes pre-addressed and pre-stamped to you and one or two relatives that you know will write your child. Show your child how to “fill in the blanks” to make it easy to write home!

By Stacey DeWitt

There’s a lot of information out there about “teenagers behaving badly” — kids engaging in high-risk activities such as drugs, drinking, sex.  I guess I should know; our company covers children’s and teen issues and the challenges they face on a daily basis. In fact, we talk to kids and teens every day – all our programs feature their true stories and real feelings. But I have to tell you, there are a lot of great kids and teenagers out there, too. Children who care about their families, their goals, their grades, their behavior, their reputation, their community, their work ethic. Kids who are actively creating a balanced, successful and conscientious life for themselves.  Check out some of the media recognizing these everyday heroes:

http://www.jjournal.com/nie_heroes.htm

http://www.unausa.org/

http://www.shef.ac.uk/mediacentre/2007/804.html

I have the pleasure of working with eight high school and college interns at our company this summer, and I have to tell you, I’m impressed by their capabilities, their brainpower, their willingness to pitch in and get the job done. I’ll also be speaking to 5,000 middle and high school students in July in California – 5,000 kids who have been selected by their schools and community organizations to participate in a week-long leadership conference. It definitely gives me hope for the future of our country – our planet, for that matter.

It reminds me to take a moment in the midst of everything “bad” we hear about today’s generation to focus on the children and teens in our lives who are accomplishing the difficult work of balancing being kids with being responsible young adults.

If you have a child or teen in your life that you’d like to recognize, post it in our community. Our members like to read and share the good stuff, too!