Strengthening the Parent/Child Connection

One aspect of the Browning community which brings me incredible joy is the frequency with which I hear both parents telling their children and children telling their parents that they love each other. Every family has their own ways of engagement and expression, of course, but however they go about it, it is heartening to see so consistently the defeat of the myth that boys don’t need or want adult affection. Daily, I see sons of all ages hug and kiss their moms and their dads, I hear the unreserved articulation of love and connection between them, and I feel lucky to bear witness to it all, both as a parent and as a member of a school that recognizes how significantly emotional foundations enable intellectual aspirations.

Yet for all these simple, intentional expressions of love, the whole of being a parent is almost always wickedly complex. Last year, I was in conversation with a pair of friends, both of whom are award-winning educators, and we were discussing the importance of human connection. One of my colleagues shared that though she maintained a strong relationship with her eldest son (now in college), the query that she most often put to her boy when he was in high school was, “Do you have any homework?”

There is, of course, nothing wrong with gently reminding our kids of their responsibilities—one otherwise imagines a world of unfed dogs, overflowing trash cans, towel-strewn bathroom floors—and an interest in seeing homework done speaks to a legitimate belief in it as a learning tool. My friend, however, was making a point not about the unworthiness of her question, but rather its frequency. We want our kids to be all kinds of things: Excellent friends, expressive artists, accomplished athletes, responsible problem-solvers, dedicated citizens, justice seekers, and so on. Yet my friend was noting that, despite all her expertise in child development, for a time her well-meant efforts at connection with her son were built solely around his success as a student.   

As parents, it can be difficult to stay focused on the whole of our boys’ experiences, especially as their schoolwork intensifies, their autonomy increases, and they (for developmentally-appropriate reasons) become less interested in talking to us. But even if our sons aren’t as forthcoming as they once were—and contrary to some popular opinion--psychologists emphasize that teenagers still largely value their parents’ opinions, want their approval, and appreciate their attention, even if teenagers will not (or cannot) articulate such needs. 

Again, there is no foul in supporting our sons’ journeys in the life of the mind, and great conversations about what is being learned in the classroom are certainly encouraged.  At the same time, parents have a tremendous opportunity to show their boys (especially in a culture that too often suggests that kids are simply the sum of their GPA and standardized test scores) that is the fullness of their selves—their uncertainties, their dreams, their fears, their hopes—that is of unrelenting fascination to us. We know, as parents, that our love for our children is unconditional, but it doesn’t mean that our kids don’t need to see it—and we can demonstrate this love by the kinds of questions that we ask them. To my friend’s point, if our inquiry into our boys’ lives is limited to only one area (academics, athletics, arts, etc.), our boys could be forgiven if they come to think that all we worry about is their grades, or how many points they’ve scored, or if they got the best role in the spring musical. 

Even as they grow physically bigger and stronger, even though they may seem alienated or resistant, our teenage sons need to be shown that their moms and dads long to know them in their totality. If a boy knows (either through the questions that they ask or the space that they give him) that his parents are interested in what he loves about his friends, what brings him joy, what he is proud of, what challenges he wants to meet, what worries him, what makes him laugh, and what makes him cry, that boy will have the emotional foundation, the sense of security to become not just an actualized student, but also the healthiest and most fulfilled man he can be.

Childhood should contain multitudes:  Intellectual vigor, academic accomplishment, artistic expression, athletic excellence, civic engagement, ethical development, social awareness, and so on. It’s no less true for our older boys than our younger ones—and, in fact, our teenage sons may need the reminder even more than they did in early childhood. We meet this need and we enable their growth—as students, citizens, and men—when our questions and our connections show these boys how fully interesting, capable, and loved they are.