Parenting Teens

This morning, I got the call. Part of me knew it was coming, but I thought I’d have another year or so before I was faced with the decision, the question, the promises and pleadings. But no. Apparently, being a freshman gave her extra stand-up-to-mama powers - on Day Two.

Around here, your schedule in Jr. high is set in stone. If you’re lucky, you can switch from one teacher to another, if there’s room/reason/need and you have to jump through major hoops to do so. Part of the High School experience is learning to take charge of your own education, making sure you have the classes needed in line to graduate, as well as trying to get as many classes together with your friends as possible. It’s a fine line to walk, and I remember in my two years at the same school my kids attend now, feeling a little lost and doing whatever my councilors told me was needed. I can only remember one single class I switched out of in those two years - and it was my Senior year, because I decided I didn’t want weight training after all. I was a senior - I didn’t WANT a gym class!

Thus, I was a little surprised this morning to get a call from The Girl just minutes after her Papa had dropped her off at the front door. “Mom, would you be upset if I decided to drop band?”

I shouldn’t have been surprised, really. In hindsight, the lack of practice this summer, and the fact she tried to hide from Ms. S. at orientation were a sure fire tip-off. But surprised I was, as a million things went through my head.

My daughter decided she wanted to play clarinet in the 5th grade band. We rented an instrument that year, to make sure she wanted to stick with it. The next year, for her birthday, her Daddy wheeled and dealed with a friend he worked with to get her a clarinet of her very own. He was so proud that he was able to trade one of his rifles for something for his daughter, something she really wanted. She named the clarinet Clarabelle, and was as thrilled to receive it as he was to give it.

It was the last gift he ever gave her - he passed away three weeks later.

And so, as she told me this morning that she wanted to drop out of band, there was a deeper emotional tug as well. I knew it affected her too when she said “I swear mama. I’ll still play Clarabelle at home… I just can’t handle Ms. S this year… is it ok?”

I had to think quickly, though the little waver in her voice nearly did me in. I probably wouldn’t have had the guts to change out of a class if I felt unable to handle a teacher. I was the type to just hide in the back row, grit my teeth and stumble through as best I could. I certainly wouldn’t have had the balls to call my mom and ask - though I know she would have been understanding and supportive… and probably made me stick with the class. (That may be my memory playing tricks on me - viewing life through aged teenaged glasses…) So what do I tell her? My little girl turning into a woman trying to stand on her own?

I questioned her quickly - is she doing this because her BFF is doing it? Are her reasons sound? Has she thought about it from Ms. S’s point of view? Is she taking the easy way out? Is this a decision for HERSELF and not anyone else? It was a lot to think about at 7:30 in the morning, for sure, on both our parts. In the end, however, I gave her permission to drop the class.

I’m not ashamed to say my heart broke a little bit when I did so, both for what she was giving up because of the emotional ties behind it, as well as for the fact that she was growing up so fast, and ready to make her first decision on that grown up track. Then the other reasonable though still sleepy part of the brain reminded me of something else - a benefit if you will.

In fact, the clouds parted, and I swear I saw rainbows backed by angels singing a hallelujah chorus as I realized what this really meant to me…

NO MORE BAND CONCERTS.

Maybe I should get that girl a pony….

Of course - you KNOW what happened while I was writing this, right? I received a text message from the Girl, saying she’s decided to give Ms. S. at least a year. She’s heard that she’s cooler in high school, after all. But if they don’t like it this year - they’re out next year.

Damn. There goes her pony!