Your Expectations for Your Teen

Be Careful What You Wish For, Or, Wish Carefully
Robert K. Merton is credited with first describing the concept of a self-fulfilling prophecy and how it works. There are three steps:

1. We have expectations of people that we communicate to them in a variety of ways, both verbally and nonverbally.
2. These people in turn respond to these cues and adjust their behavior accordingly to match our expectations.
3. With their adjustment of behavior, they now match our original expectations, hence the term self-fulfilling prophecy.

In short, what you expect is what you get. Research—from rats running mazes to children learning in the classroom—supports the idea of the self-fulfilling prophecy. When research assistants and teachers believe (of course, erroneously in research experiments because there is indeed no difference between the rats or children in the control and experimental groups) that the rats or children they are working with are inherently more intelligent and capable than the norm, these subjects do indeed perform better. When researchers think they have smart rats, these rats learn more quickly how to navigate mazes than their counterparts. When teachers think their students are more intelligent than other students, these students perform better in their classrooms.

There are New Age philosophies predicated on the idea of a self-fulfilling prophecy, and the problem with this way of thinking is that it easily leads to denial. Repeat endless mantras, hold only positive thoughts and expectations, and your life will be bliss. But then again, if you're the parent of a teenager, you already know that this type of New Age philosophy is doomed when it comes to your adolescent. There are, however, a few points that wise parents can take from this concept to improve their connections with their teenagers.

First, while you read the daily newspaper, listen to the radio, or watch the latest shocking news stories about teenagers, stay skeptical about the stereotypes. Challenge your thinking. Questioning the prevailing view pushes the stereotypes to the side and reduces your chances of expecting the worst from your teenager.

Both of my parents were wild teenagers, and I can tell they expect me to be the same. Thing is, I don't feel like being wild or anything. Sure, I've tried alcohol, but it's just not my thing. I'm kind of quiet and nerdy. I like to read, watch movies with my friends, and just be a kid. But the bizarre part is that I find myself thinking about getting drunk and passing out on the sofa so that my parents catch me. Kind of so they think I'm a chip off the old block. Weird, huh?

Second, when in doubt, expect the best. When you are perplexed about your teenager and not sure whether to feel excited or scared, choose the middle ground. Simply remain optimistic. Often your perplexed feelings are a result of his ambiguity, so your quiet optimism can help him choose the more responsible alternative as a means of resolving his confusion. Even if you are not there, your resilient optimism goes with him and will often carry the day—or night, as more frequently happens. Third, face reality. When bad things happen (and they will), expect your teenager to make a full and responsible recovery—that she will learn from her mistakes. Perhaps not right away, but eventually. Part of the difficulty of staying connected to teenagers is the tendency for parents to anticipate the worst: to take one mistake, say a poor grade in tenth grade English, and extrapolate it into an inevitable downward spiral—imagine that she'll flunk out of high school and work minimum wage jobs for her entire adult life. This kind of thinking is of no use to your teenager and quickly takes its toll on your connection with each other.

For proof that a few mistakes (even some big ones) don't ruin the rest of your life, take a few moments to reflect on your own adolescence—as well as the adolescences of some of your friends. From your parents' perspective, were you the perfect teenager? What were your shortcomings in their eyes? Most of us, at some time or another, walked the edge just to see what it was like: cars, drinking, alcohol, sex, bad grades, negative attitude. Nothing major, but we did test the limits. Your teenager will need to do the same. Stay concerned, but don't take it personally. It means that your teenager will experiment. If you're lucky, it'll happen just out of your view and you won't hear about it until she is in her second or third year of college. And yes, this is the time you have to play the parent role, and while doing this you can still expect the best. For me, the right mixture of vigilance, towing the line, and perspective comes from a story I read in Sports Illustrated in the 1960s.

To paraphrase, the story was about a man driving along the streets of a New England city just after a snowstorm. As he was driving along and minding his own business, he was pummeled with snowballs from behind some parked cars. The driver narrowly avoided an accident, pulled his car over, and shook from head to toe with anger. His blood pressure was through the roof. Then an image popped into his head: He remembered how, when he was an eleven-year-old boy living in New York City, on a similar kind of day he and his two best friends had plastered another unsuspecting automobile with snowballs. He also remembered how that driver had pulled over and given chase to the three friends, who as soon as they realized what was happening divided and ran for cover. He remembered running for many city blocks and scaling a few alley walls in his efforts to escape. Hours later, when he felt the coast was clear, he made his way home and found his two friends. They rehashed the story for hours—the fear, the excitement, the surprise, the solidarity. And with each retelling, the story became a bit more embellished than the previous one. It was a big moment in his life. And, in retrospect, the author realized that from that moment on, he and his friends never again threw snowballs at moving vehicles. It was never a stated decision, but one that all the boys implicitly understood. Suddenly, years later, while still sitting in his car, his blood pressure elevated, he realized what he had to do. He got out of the car, put on his best angry look, and gave chase to the boys. Fifty yards later, he stopped to catch his breath. He had done his job—the kids had scattered to the wind. And as he walked back to his car, he realized that twenty years ago that guy had probably chased him and his buddies for a short distance only, but that the effects had been long lasting.