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Learn to Communicate with Your Teen

Anthropology is the study of human beings: their race, physical character, social relations, and culture. In this regard, if you've ever spent time with an anthropologist who was wearing her anthropology hat, you know how fascinating and interesting you feel when her focus is on you. That is, she will ask you all sorts of questions you have never before considered but that are essential to how you live your life and what you believe. They are the kinds of questions that linger for days and weeks, so that the next time you bump into this person—in line at the grocery store, at a soccer game, at church—you're liable to blurt out what's been mulling in the back of your head since the last time you spoke. You know, I've been thinking about what you asked the last time we spoke, and . . .

In this regard, parents of teenagers have a lot to learn from anthropologists. In essence, we need to learn to ask better and different questions. Many of the questions we ask our kids are polite ways of asking for reports or executive summaries. How was school? Did you finish your English paper on time? How did you do on the chemistry test? Did you win the basketball game? How much did you play? How many points did you score? If your teenager is like most teenagers, then 90 percent of the time all you'll get is a one word response to any of these queries: Good. Yeah. Okay. Yeah. Some. A few. Remember, from a teenager's perspective, the less information they impart to their parents, the better. When in doubt, they stay vague, especially when it's the stuff of parental evaluations. And, perhaps surprisingly, most teenagers realize that this extends not only to incriminating information but also to flattering facts, too. That is, they know that if they respond only in specifics when it makes them look good, you will notice this and push them even more to reveal the details when they are vague. So in the interests of self-preservation, privacy, and independence, most teenagers opt for ambiguity with their parents.

For parents, this means we need to ask better and different questions, and thinking more along the lines of an anthropologist is a good start. If you want to encourage your teenager to think, possibly even to respond, you need to think more about process and less about outcome. Business is based on outcome. Education is based on process, and when it comes to the connection between you and your teenager, education is the best game in town. If you take another look at the typical parent questions from the preceding paragraph, you will take only a moment to realize that they are all outcome-based questions that require nothing more than a one-sentence response at best. And for reasons noted already, you may not even get that. Although nothing is wrong with these questions (and please understand that I'm not suggesting we not hold kids to certain goals, achievements, and the like), they will seldom start the kinds of conversations you need to have with your teenager if you are going to have a strong connection to each other. Let's take some time, then, to look at how these process questions work across a range of activities and interests: academics, sports, performances, school applications. Academics
Imagine that you attended a talk about academics led by the principal or head at your teenager's school. Specifically, the evening was about what you could do to contribute to the scholastic life of your teenager. Now imagine that at the outset of this presentation, the person in charge said something along the following lines: Actually, we have two different presentations tonight: one in Auditorium A and the other in Auditorium B. It's up to you to decide which one you want to attend. The talk in Auditorium A is for parents who want their kids to get all A's through school. The talk in Auditorium B is for parents who want their kids to learn to love learning. There is no time for questions, so please choose, either Auditorium A or Auditorium B.

Where would you go? Although few, if any, parents would not want their children to earn all A's through school, most would still choose Auditorium B because parents understand that kids who learn to love learning will, in intrinsic motivation, curiosity, and later on, in job performance, surpass those who work only for grades. Not only that, but if kids do indeed come to love learning, they'll also earn good grades, too. Therefore, sharp parents look to schools and teachers to instill a love of learning in their children.

Yet, even though most of us would choose Auditorium B, most of us act as if we had gone to Auditorium A. Think about it. Few of our conversations and questions address our kids' love of learning; instead, most simply ask for status reports. The parents who go to Auditorium B, and behave that way, understand the difference between process and outcome; they fall squarely on love of learning in how they talk to their teenagers about academics, school, and grades. They ask their kids questions that require their kids to investigate themselves and their learning process.

How did you do on the math test? is replaced, or at least supplemented, with Was it a good test? Most teenagers will give you a strange look when you first ask this last question, and then respond by telling you the grade they got on the test. It takes them a while to figure out what you're asking, that you haven't made a mistake. No, not what grade you got, but was it a good test? You know, when a test is good, it forces you to learn more, to put together what you already know in new ways. A good test is one in which you learn something. So, was it a good test?

Or, instead of just asking if she finished the paper or what grade she received, you ask about the process of writing the paper: Where did you get stuck? How did you get through it? Did your ideas for the paper come in a flurry or gradually, over time? Did you surprise yourself at all by what you wrote? How? Now the focus is on the discovery that happens through the engagement of writing, not the mere opinion of a teacher. That is, you help your teenager form her own opinion of her writing through self-examination. But it's a self-examination that you guide her through, much as an anthropologist guides you through some of what she asks.

When you ask these types of questions, you need to be careful how you judge their relative effectiveness. That is, often your kids will not have a response ready, but this is in no way a sign of a failed inquiry or a bad question. More often, it's the hallmark of an interesting question that has grabbed her attention; but given the inherent narcissism of this age, the question prevents her from saying so and from wrestling with the question in your company. But once you leave, or once she retreats to her room, that's when she'll tackle your query in earnest. Parents must therefore learn to give the question time to percolate before judging its effectiveness because the response might show up days later during a car ride or late-night conversation. Athletics and Performances
When you pick up your teenager from a game, the approach discussed above is equally valuable and illuminative. Of course, you still ask the standard questions: Who won? Did you play much? Did you play well? In general, kids will talk much more about the game they have just finished than about their most recent paper or chemistry test. If they're talkative, stay quiet and listen; if not, try a few of the more anthropological questions. When were you the most focused in today's game? How come? Or, When the referee made a bad call in the third quarter I watched you go from angry to calm; what was that all about? (That's a key piece of this approach: observing carefully.) Or, Seemed as if Chris got down on herself after that second goal got by her; what did you say to her to snap her out of it? Or, Even though you were down ten points with just under two minutes to go, you refused to give up. What were you saying to yourself?

As with the academic questions, your teenager probably won't have a quick response to any of these questions. That's good, as it means she has to dig deeper into herself to find an answer.

Another way of understanding this line of questioning comes from Jerome Bruner, who, when discussing writing, describes two types of plots that occur in a story: a plot of action and a plot of consciousness. The plot of action follows what occurs in the plot: who says what, where the action occurs, and what literally happens. The plot of consciousness, however, reflects what is going on in the various characters' heads: how they come to certain conclusions, assumptions they are working from, and the internal emotions and dialogues they are having. The plot of consciousness is always the more engaging and insightful of the two, both when it comes to books and to your teenager. So thinking like an anthropologist means asking questions that tap into your teenager's plot of consciousness.

This anthropological approach is just as productive in areas of performance as it is with athletics. In a dramatic or musical production, the process and plot of consciousness are right on the surface; you just have to scratch a bit. When the guitarist ended his solo earlier than expected, how did you manage to recover so well? What was it like to get that ovation when you and the other dancers came out for your final bow? Were you expecting it? Any part of tonight's performance surprise you? Who surprised you by how well they did tonight?

If nothing else, this line of questioning appeals directly to the narcissism in your teenager; so, even if these questions don't come naturally to you, your teenager will cut you slack. After all, you're asking your teenager about the most fascinating person in the world—at least in her eyes. High School and College Applications
A few years ago, a high school teacher told me how she uses this approach when talking to seniors who are applying for college:

If you want to engage a high school senior in a conversation, one of the worst questions to ask is Where do you want to go to college next year? Whenever confronted with this question, students' faces glaze over and their voices go flat and become a monotone. It's almost as if they had dissociated and put an old recording in place of any conscious connection or thought: Well, I'm applying to State because it's close and nearby. And I'm applying to Ivy Institute because it's a great school, even though it's so far away. And I'm applying to . . . It's almost the same patter for all kids. At first, these thoughts had meaning, but with time they have just come to fill the space as the kids go on automatic pilot and keep adults at a safe distance from their vulnerable feelings about going to college (and leaving high school, too).

Take a minute to think about it from the teenager's perspective. If they tell you where they're applying and get their hopes up, then in six months when they hear from the same colleges, they'll need to share their disappointments and failures with you. Most teenagers avoid this kind of vulnerability.

Instead, I do the anthropological thing with them. I ask them what it's like to apply to college. What's the most difficult part? What's it like asking teachers for recommendations? What's it like to write the essay: Do you do it in one sitting? According to a timeline and plan? Do you consult your parents? Do you wait until the last minute? How are you at budgeting your time to complete all the applications, especially given your full schedule as a high school senior?

Actually, once you get into it, the questions just flow, and after a bit of stuttering—because I'm not asking the standard questions—most of the kids get into it. For me, it's terrific, because I discover things about my students that I otherwise might not know; and as a teacher, the stronger my relationship with my students, the more effective I am.

Recently, I met with a former student who had graduated from college the week before, and she instantly related to what the above teacher had to say about the typical questions a high school senior is asked about college. However, at the other end of her college career, she said the same phenomenon happens, only now it's under the heading of So what are your career plans after college? As I nodded and smiled to myself, she quickly added, "That's why I have a fake plan. You know, what I tell people when they ask about my future plans just to get them to stop asking. Mine is about taking a year off and then going to law school or getting an MBA; my best friend's Fake Plan is about becoming a teacher. But the truth is, neither one of us has any idea what we are going to do."

Asking questions about process is always an effective approach with your teenager, no matter what the activity or subject. This line of questioning engages him, which in turn strengthens your connection. One warning, though: Use this approach to supplement the conversations you already have with your teenager, not to replace them.

My dad really got into that Thinking Like an Anthropologist stuff, but after a while it got to be too much. It's hard to talk that way all the time. I mean, sometimes I just want to shoot the breeze without thinking too much.