Original URL: http://life.familyeducation.com/teen/communication/42909.html

Communicating with Your Teen: Give Up on Lectures and Advice

There is probably no more unsettling realization for the parents of teenagers than coming to grips with the reality that all your hard-earned advice, wisdom, and life lessons are falling on deaf ears. Much to your chagrin, your teenagers seem to want no part of what you have to offer. Even though, in your mind at least, you are different from how your parents were when you were a teenager; and, in that regard, you believe you have lots of useful information to offer.

Most parents, however, don't take the refusal of their advice so easily. Despite our teenager's protestations, we continue to offer our advice and lecture them, even if we're sure they aren't listening. We can't stop ourselves. We don't know what else to do, and the idea of doing nothing and sitting powerless on the sidelines isn't an option. Of course, the impulse to "help" is good as long as we learn to use this energy in a slightly different and more indirect route. A much more effective route.

Independence
A hallmark of teenagers is the need to establish their independence as they forge a stable identity for themselves. A tall order for any age—and one that most adults have yet to fulfill—yet teenagers think they can and must fulfill this quest, and usually in a semester's time. Few engage in this quest in an orderly manner. As in many other areas of their lives, teenagers are apt to exaggerate and push too hard in their insistence upon independence, especially with their parents. This is because the best way they know of to establish a sense of independence is to push away the people they have been dependent upon for so long: mom and dad.

This stage is never graceful or elegant, and it is frequently punctuated with many mixed messages—the sort of Go Away and Come Here double communications that teenagers are famous for and that drive their parents crazy.

Then an hour later he wants to know if I'll wash his uniform for his game later that day. And, of course, if I try to connect the dots for him between the mixed messages—wanting near total independence and needing me to take care of his laundry—he looks at me as if I were from another planet and simply says, Mom, I don't want another lecture. I just want to know if you are going to wash my uniform or not.

In staying connected to your teenager, you need to understand how this need for independence shows itself at different times and how to recognize it for what it is—normal, healthy adolescent development. You also need to know how it permanently changes some of the ways you used to communicate with your teenager, lectures and advice topping the list. But don't give up hope, when some lines of communication become tangled because of independence issues, other lines, in fact, are opening. Lectures
Most of us fondly remember when our teenagers were children, when they listened to our character and teaching lectures—or at least politely pretended to listen. Even though they were in trouble for some misbehavior, they still paid attention to what you had to say. Those teaching moments were as important to you as they were to them. We knew that our words were making a difference in our kids' lives.

I loved it when she was seven years old—I was the smartest person in the world. At least that's what she thought. More important, I was careful about what I said to her in those minilectures because I knew she was paying attention and that my words had meaning. I also suspected that she wouldn't always be such a receptive audience; but still, I was hardly prepared for adolescence. When it comes to your kids as teenagers, you need to realize that most of what you have to lecture them about they've heard from you before, in earlier lectures. This isn't to say you shouldn't lecture your kids; it's just not the best approach all the time. There are times, however, when their transgressions are especially frightening, that they need to hear and understand the heat of what you're feeling.

I'll never forget the look on my dad's face when he figured out that my sister and I were going to have a party at the house on the weekend that he and my mom were going away. He was as angry as I've ever seen him, but at the same time as sad as I've ever seen him. It's one of the only times I can remember him yelling at me. He was furious. I don't even remember what he said, and I guess it didn't really matter. I mean, I knew what he was going to say before he said it. But what got to me was the hurt behind it all. It was as if he were seeing a part of me that he didn't want to have to see—a part of me that utterly disappointed him. It was awful. I just broke into tears. I never want him to look at me like that again. Interactions like this are memorable for parents and teenagers alike as long as they aren't the everyday mode of communicating. This is when, for parents, The Boy Who Cried Wolf takes on new meaning. If at every misstep you yell, lecture, or pontificate advice, your teenager will come to see you as The Parent Who Cried Wolf, which is a profound loss for both of you. Now you've lost your ability to make a difference on the really big decisions. When everything is treated as vital and crucial, then in your teenager's mind nothing is vital or crucial.

Taken to the extreme, this constant lecturing takes on an almost comical twist. Listen to one counselor's experience of working with a family whose dad was the quintessential lecturer:

We were getting nowhere fast, so after a few minutes I asked the parents to step into the waiting room while I talked to the kids. With the mom and dad out of the room, I asked the children whether there was anything they wanted to share with me. Silence, followed by some uncomfortable fidgeting. After a few more equally unsuccessful attempts, we sat in silence for a few moments. Then, out of the blue, I asked: "Does your dad lecture you much?"

The sixteen-year-old twitched, and his sister leaned forward.

"I ask because he seems like the kind of guy who would. At least, that's what I got from meeting with you as a family for the first twenty minutes."

Then the girl said to her brother, "Should we tell him?"

"No."

"Should you tell me what?"

"I'm going to tell him." Her brother moaned. "My dad is the king of lecturers. He's a professor, what do you expect? Anyway, Todd (her brother) and I are so bored by the same old lectures that one day we numbered them. So now when he goes into lecture mode, we say either to one another or to ourselves, 'Dad started with number five today, he'll probably shift to number eight after that and finish with number two as a closer.'"

I was shocked, but then I smiled. "How well do you know his lectures? Think you could replicate one of them for me?"

Both of them were now on board, and in unison they said, "Sure."

To make a long story short, they spoke a couple of sample lectures into a tape recorder for me. Then we brought their mom and dad back into the consulting room. I figured I had enough rapport with the parents for what I did next. Fortunately, I was right. I had the parents sit down while we played the tape of their teenagers reciting their father's lectures.

About two minutes into the first one, the dad raised his hand, leaned forward, and softly said, "I've heard enough. I get the point. It's just that I don't know what else to do when you guys misbehave. Guess I'm just scared is all."

From there we had lots to talk about. The family began to work together to come up with alternatives to the dad's lectures and for everyone to brainstorm more productive ways for both parents to have input and influence with their teenagers.

Lectures are not very effective for improving your connection to your teenager. The next time you shift into this mode with your teenager, watch him closely. You'll see all the signs of someone dissociating from the moment: eyes fixed in space and glazed over, fidgeting (or the opposite, complete stillness), and slack jaws. In these moments, most teenagers either get angry or check out to another time and place, usually away from the person delivering the lecture. When you notice this happening with your teenager, your best bet is to stop talking. You are going nowhere fast. Better to cut your losses then and there and hope for a fresh start the next time around.

Teenagers have a way of making sane parents intermittently insane. This is why we often resort to lectures—it's the civilized alternative to hitting our kids. In those cases—when lecturing helps you cool down—lecture away. Physical force with your teenager will only sever whatever connection and influence you have in his life. During the rest of the time, however, consider some of the alternatives to lecturing spelled out later in this article, as well as in Teenagers: Self-Esteem Through Integrity. Advice
Given the inherent narcissism of adolescents and their drive to establish independence, it's easy to see why your advice is no longer solicited or appreciated. Remember a few years ago, when he solicited your advice on a range of subjects: how to fix the flat tire on his bike, how to stand up for yourself when friends tease one another, when to practice the piano? Now, during adolescence, when the stakes have risen and your advice is more valuable than ever, he has turned a deaf ear.

Take a moment to consider how the drive towards independence influences your teenager's openness to your advice. Every time he asks your advice (and every teenager does seek the advice of his parents, at least a few times, during adolescence) he is undercutting his own independence. That is, at a time in life when autonomy is most important, he is setting himself up to remain dependent on you (on your advice and greater wisdom), the same person he is trying to persuade to see him as independent. Talk about a Catch-22. That's why one moment he is earnest in seeking your advice, and the next he is frustrated and feels compelled to reject whatever you have to offer. For him, each rebuff restores his temporarily lost sense of independence, which was in jeopardy when he sought out your input in the first place.

I know, it's crazy, and I sort of say that to myself as I walk away and curse her under my breath. It's just that I can't help myself.

It's strange, but just because your daughter rejects your advice does not mean that she ignores it. Once she hears what you have to say and rejects it—either by pointing out what is wrong with what you have to say or by allowing herself to feel insulted by your wanting to control her life—she is free to discover the usefulness of your advice on her own down the road. Yes, the suggestion you made about how to deliver that difficult feedback to her friend was rejected out of hand. But then, two weeks later, she might stumble upon that same idea and attribute it to herself. Now the idea serves her growing autonomy in the world, not her regressed dependence on you. That is, she thinks it is her idea. So when she tells you how she resolved the problem, don't you dare try to reclaim credit for the idea. Instead, smile and nod your head—a lot. Let her show off her independence to you and to take the credit. She will not get a big head from all this, and, best of all, the connection between the two of you will grow stronger and deeper.

The bottom line is that when your teenagers ask your advice, beware. If you freely give it, expect initial rejection, which, ironically, frees her up to make use of your advice later on. If you hold it back unreasonably, then she'll feel abandoned; so tread lightly, because abandonment is the last feeling you want to instill in your teenager. Your best bet is to ask her questions about what she has done so far. Get her talking. Then at the end of that, if she is still around, give her the advice she asked for. Just be concise.

There is, however, the exception to the rule; this occurs when your teenager solicits your advice, listens, and then makes use of your wisdom. This does happen occasionally, but the emotions that accompany what seems like the most natural and pleasant of interchanges between parent and teenager are toxic. Reflecting for a moment on the central role of their burgeoning independence helps to clarify the emotional undercurrent that happens when your teenager listens to and follows through on your advice.

He asks you about some problem that has him befuddled. He seems sincere in his request, and as luck would have it, this is an area where you have quite a bit of experience. You pause and he remains attentive, so you go ahead and give your advice. He seems, in his own adolescent-indifferent way, to hang on to your every word. He doesn't interrupt or contradict you as you speak, and when you have finished he sort of nods to you and walks away. You're confused. Did he really listen or was he being polite? At that moment, there is no way to tell for certain.

The next day, you inquire about the problem he was having. How's it going with Rickie? Did you take my advice? Your son is back to his old self, because his responses are of the one- or two-word variety. Okay. Yeah. He worked it out with Rickie. He actually took your advice! Well, how did it work? Are you guys still friends or what? Not only are his responses clipped, but no matter how excited you get, his emotional response is rigidly flat. You must be happy, aren't you? Glad to see you are still friends. At this point, you realize the conversation is over, because either he walks away or he somehow gives you the cold shoulder.

Now you are confused. Why isn't he happy and thanking you for the advice? Over the next few hours, though, you will not have the time to ponder these questions because your son is busy picking a fight with you over some innocuous matter: He's sloppy while washing the car and accidentally lets the water spray through the screens into your bedroom; he's unnecessarily abrupt and rough with his younger sister and she's complaining to you about him; he ponders his next snack way too long and with the refrigerator door wide open. He gets your goat and makes you react to one thing or another. Once you do respond—and usually not in a calm, collected way—the scene quickly deteriorates as he alternates between grumbling, defending, attacking, and whining. He's acting like a spoiled little child, and just when you expected his gratitude for helping him resolve a tense issue with his close friend Rickie. At this point, the interaction usually ends with parent and teenager going in opposite directions and mumbling about the other under their breath.

Believe it or not, this is a normal reaction after a teenager has taken and successfully used your advice. What's going on is that by soliciting and following your advice, he has made himself unduly dependent on you at a time of life when independence is sacred. The best way he knows to recover from this momentary lapse is to exaggerate his sense of independence, and picking a fight with you and holding his ground (whether he is right or wrong) is the classic way for a teenager to do this. At the end of the fight, his sense of independence has been restored. Sure, there is a cost—some confusion on your part and perhaps a few bad feelings—but that's all secondary to his independence. Plus, to add insult to injury, he expects that you know the fight was nothing personal. At least, that's how he takes it, which is why an hour later, while you're still stewing over the argument, your teenager has moved on without a backwards glance.

When you do find you have given advice to a teenager who wants it and needs it, here's one practical idea to keep in mind: Expect the exaggerated reclamation of independence through some sort of argument like that described above. Then when it happens, try as much as you can to see what it's all about—independence—so that you don't take it personally. If you can keep your equilibrium through this, then your connection with your teenager grows enormously. He learns that he can count on you to understand what he can't say and doesn't yet understand himself. Advice About Advice
I like the following suggestion offered by the mom of three teenagers:

My rule on advice giving is to make my kids ask three times before I make any suggestions. If they have the perseverance to ask three times, I figure they are serious—I'm right about 50 percent of the time. When your teenager asks your advice, remind yourself that what she really wants is not your wisdom, but your presence. They just don't know how to ask for this more subtle form of support, which is why they ask for something that is more familiar: advice. It's the best they can do.

Fortunately, the best you can do is better and subtler than what they bring to the table. Here are a few ideas to keep in mind the next time your teenager asks for your advice:

Whatever the issue, acknowledge that it's a difficult topic. Even if the situation is one that you see clear through, you need to slow down and realize that from her perspective it is a difficult and complex problem, otherwise she wouldn't ask for your input. Hm. This is a tricky question, I can see why it's got you confused. If you don't validate the difficulty of what she is asking, you risk infantilizing her and enraging her at the same time. Oh, this is easy! Can't believe you couldn't figure it out for yourself; what are you, six years old? At least that is what it will feel like to her if you fail to recognize that, for her, this is a real conundrum.

Find out what she has already tried. Count on her having already spoken to friends, possibly even a few other adults, before she came to you. How have you tried to deal with it so far? What has been helpful to this point? Who else have you talked to about this?

Listen. Listen some more. Let there be silence; you don't have to rush to fill the void. This is when your teenager will feel safe to explore the problem with your support. Often no words are spoken, just silent support given. She'll make some progress during this time. Sometimes her progress will astonish and confuse you. Oh, I see it now. Thanks Dad! More often than not, she'll come close to clarity but land just short of it. I'm still not sure what to do, but it feels like there is something I can do. I just can't put my finger on it. I'll just give it some more time.

Now, if she's still hanging around, you get to play the Historian of Her Successes. This is a fun job. It's also a role that will at first confuse your daughter, but it will soon help her to solve whatever problem she has brought to you. Remind her of other times in her life when she was just as stuck in some other problem but eventually landed on a solution that worked. I'm not sure how you'll figure this one out, but you will. Remember that time in sixth grade when you had that falling out with your best friend, Samantha? Somehow you got through that one and you're still good friends today. Or that time last year when you got so mad at that coach? And this year you had him write you a letter of reference for the summer camp job. Kids, like adults, in the throes of a problem are experts on the problem at the exact time they need to become experts on the solution. Therefore, part of our job is to remind them of their expertise in solving problems. That's what will help them get through whatever difficulty they're experiencing. And when you assist them in this way, you strengthen your connection to one another, too. That is, after a conversation like this, which leaves her with a smile on her face and reflecting—maybe for the first time—on how she got through some difficult situations from the past, she is in a much better position to resolve whatever is at hand.
Add a Comment (1)

Copyright � 2003 by Michael Riera. Excerpted from Staying Connected to Your Teenager with permission of its publisher, Perseus Books Group, Inc. All rights reserved.
To order this book visit perseusbooksgroup.com.