Heaven or Hell?

On Tuesday, I attended parent-teacher conferences at Lyman Hall High School. Since we now have two sons at Lyman Hall, Mary and I had to split up. I visited Michael’s teachers, Mary met with Danny’s. The teachers were very helpful, providing me with grades up to that point, work that needed to be made up and important upcoming assignments. The conferences lasted about two hours. I spent about another hour talking to Michael and going over my notes. I felt good about the initial talk with my 16-year-old junior and my organized list of items I needed to follow up with him on.

The good feeling ended less than 24 hours later when I called Michael from work to see how he had made out on one of his makeup assignments. About 10 seconds into the conversation, I sensed resistance to my involvement. I calmly told him I intended to help even if he didn’t like it.
“Well then I’m going to make your life hell,” he responded.
Taken as one line it seems very disrespectful. In fairness, I should point out that Michael is really a good kid at home and an even better one in school. In his 11 years, I’ve never had a teacher complain. My own parents could not make the same statement. On Tuesday, one of his teachers told me that I should give myself a pat on the back because, in her opinion, Michael was a great kid and a credit to our parenting.
But after the “I’m going to make your life hell” remark I didn’t feel like giving myself a pat. I also didn’t start screaming. After dealing with teen-agers for three years, I’m used to these moments.

About a month ago we were talking about his driving school classes when he told me: “I hope you and mom feel crappy about wasting your money on driving school.” Apparently, the classes were not living up to his expectations. I think he was really upset because it has cut into his social life. When he first would say these kinds of things, it did make me feel “crappy.” I felt I was making progress in dealing with teens because despite his hope, I did not feel bad at all.

Last night, as I was in the midst of saying good night and telling him to have a good day at school, he launched into a 30-second diatribe on how something his mom and I are doing is ruining his weekend social life. He added that the other kids involved don’t care because they are all losers and don’t have a social life. A cheery way to end the day, I thought as I calmly listened and didn’t say anything until he was done
“Mike. Have a nice day at Lyman Hall.”

Let me know what you think.