Editor’s Note: We’re digging into our archives for great articles you might have missed over the years. This article about a dad’s introverted teen daughter comes from 2018.

I recently ran into the mother of a girl at my daughter’s high school. Both our kids are seniors this year; they know each other and are casual friends.

After congenial hellos in the line at our neighborhood coffeehouse, she asked, “So! What are Riley’s plans after graduation?”

We’re not totally sure yet, but are looking at colleges in the area.

“The whole college thing is overwhelming, isn’t it?” the mom exclaimed. “How are her grades? How are her SATs scores? Are you applying to places that put a big emphasis on extracurriculars?”

Grades were fine; test scores, fine. I had no idea how much certain schools care about extracurriculars (because of how I’m a bad dad and stuff), so I kept my answers polite but short, without elaborating much.

But this mom could not be stopped.

“Hey,” she said, “did Riley ever decide to try out for any school plays? The last time I saw you, you said she was thinking about doing theater. Theater can do wonders for a kid’s social skills and confidence. Skyler isn’t a theater kid, but she’s really loving her debate team. Plus she’s on the yearbook staff. And she’s doing cheerleading, can you believe it!?”

Riley and I had briefly talked about theater as an extracurricular pursuit, but it ultimately wasn’t for her. I said as much to the mom, then mentally kicked myself for it.

“Oh,” she said, suddenly doleful. “Sounds like she’s still our little introvert, isn’t she? You know what? It’s going to be fine. You shouldn’t worry. A lot of kids grow out of it.”

That’s when I had to suddenly use every ounce of maturity I had to excuse myself politely. It wasn’t just that her tone was condescending and offensive. It was that it was laced with the arsenic glaze of “Thank God my kid isn’t like your kid.”

Thanks for that, but I like my kid just fine, fuck you very much.

Dad and daughter — different teen spirits

I was also an introverted teen. It took me a while to come out of what I perceived at the time as my “shell.” I was shy, awkward and pretty unsocialized. (And, as it turned out, deeply, deeply closeted. But that’s a whole other bunch of blog posts.) I never stopped being weird in my own ways, but I did discover a few social skills and ended up making valuable friends, many of whom are still in my life today. I tapped into some dormant extrovert traits around my junior year. I discovered confidence through my school’s fine arts programs, learned the fine art of partying from my more rebellious friends, and found ways to connect with people from different social circles. As a result, I have deeply fond memories of high school.

But when I became a parent, I firmly told myself that when my daughter became a teenager, I wouldn’t use my own experience as a barometer for what was and wasn’t right for her — a common parenting mistake.

This is good because while my high school experience was about friends, school activities, and sneaking out to late-night parties, my teen daughter is not.

Her high school experience has been different. She has a couple of friends, but very rarely does she have anyone over after school to study or hang out. She’s involved in a couple of afterschool activities, but nothing that has enlarged her social sphere. She doesn’t party. She spends most weekends at home with us and seems content with that. She’s a straight-laced, good kid.

Yes, my daughter is an introverted teen.

Neither she nor I need a Myers-Briggs test to tell us that. I see it in her behavior, and I recently came to appreciate it more than I used to.

Why do people worry about introverted teens or introversion in kids in general?

Because introversion so often runs against what we’re told are valuable skills: sociability, confidence in large groups, and the overall ability to be the life of the party. It’s the stuff of popularity and acceptance. The stuff we see in the kid Most Likely To Do Everything Impressive After Graduation.

In our cultural context, despite what people claim to understand today about the range of personality types, and the values that come with being both an extrovert and an introvert … the extrovert still always seems to win.

Introverted teen at her best

What does life with my introverted teen daughter look like?

• She is smart and funny, yet has limited energy to sustain it with others.
• She likes being around people and has fun in social settings, as long as she can retreat for short breaks to re-energize.
• She likes parties as long as she has an exit strategy available to her. She doesn’t like the feeling of being trapped someplace where there are tons of people. (You know what? Me neither.)
• She likes attention, but only when she knows to expect it, and only in measured doses. In other words, she wouldn’t like having friends throw her a huge surprise birthday party. She does, however, like getting together with a few friends at a time to hang out.
• She has friends but prefers them at arm’s length much of the time. She doesn’t do the deep sharing thing easily with others. The close friends she does have, she cares for deeply.
• She’s a good listener with tremendous intuitive skills. She pays attention. Nothing gets by her. When I’m feeling sad or upset, she will notice and ask what’s wrong. And because she’s so intuitive, I can’t get away with the classic parental deflection answer: “Oh, I’m just a little tired.” She sees right through that.
• She enjoys her own company and is almost completely immune to peer pressure. No one will ever pressure her into doing something she doesn’t want to do.
• She spends her free time diving deep into her own artistic creativity, drawing, sketching and manifesting a world around her that’s more colorful than the one others see.
• She solves problems and addresses challenges by talking them out to herself, rather than looking for others to serve as a sounding board. This means she’s got resilience, resourcefulness, and the ability to think critically on her own.

I do believe that there’s a healthy middle ground between extroversion and introversion, of course. The ability to draw energy both from being with others and from taking time alone? That sounds great. Do you know anyone who has that particular yin-yang balancing act down?

My daughter still has growing to do. As always, I look forward to seeing how she’ll evolve as adulthood approaches. But do I want her introversion to end up being just a phase? Do I want my wonderfully strange, creative, thoughtful girl to “grow out of it?”

Not even a little bit.

Introverted teen photo by Igor Cancarevic on Unsplash

When my niece asked me to help her apply to colleges, I gladly volunteered not knowing the process itself is one of the biggest challenges. Understanding the college application process, I learned, is like looking at one of those funky pictures to test if you’re colorblind. You know a number is hiding somewhere in that dotted thing, but since you can’t see blue or green, it all comes out as splotchy mush.

Grades, extracurriculars, personality, essays — they all have their place in the college admissions crucible. But it’s no longer just about filling out an application and waiting by the mailbox. It’s a code, and those who can crack it have a higher chance of being accepted. Seriously, the process is so convoluted these days that there are actual professionals whose only job is to help you navigate it.

But she’s my niece, and I am awesome. This was a quest, and if a lifetime of playing video games has taught me anything, I rock at quests. If there is a dragon to fight then I’m your guy.

Don’t let your Common App be common

The first thing you realize on this quest is that you are not fighting just one dragon in a dark cave. Instead, there is the one dragon you know about and another 20 lurking in the darkness. If you didn’t swear before, now you will learn how.

Before we begin, a book recommendation: The Price You Pay for College: An Entirely New Road Map for the Biggest Financial Decision Your Family Will Ever Make by Ron Leiber. This is your quest map, and you’ll refer to it often.

Everything starts (kind of) with the Common App. This is the generic application many universities use. But not all of them. Some only use parts of it. Some universities also have their own application process that is separate (or in addition to) the Common App. See, even the beginning is complicated.

There are questions and essays in this app, which brings me back to the only things I remember about my own experience. An essay! I can write an essay! No, you can’t. Your kid has to write the essay. But as dads, we get to help. And in this case, one of my fellow Kansas City Dads Group members had the expertise I was looking for.

Andy Arends has worked in admissions for years. He told me, “The Common App makes it easy to blanket apply to many different colleges, but take the extra step and tweak each application. Relate your lived experience to your academic interest, and then take it one step further. Explain how you will use that college experience to change the world.”

That’s solid advice. Now we begin to get some behind-the-scenes action steps. I love knowing so many dads. This is the power of our community.

“Avoid being vague,” Andy told me. “Stay away from superficial discussions of a college or major. Show deep knowledge or a very specific experience.”

What to look for in a college: good fit, rentention

But there’s more to getting into college than looking good on paper.

One of the best pieces of advice I received from many dads who have been through this, and also from Lieber’s book, is that picking a college is about looking at its overall value. You should consider how will the college fit with your life, not how you fit with theirs.

“You need to start with retention rates,” said another college admissions expert. (Note: Many asked me not to use their names in this article, which you know means they are giving us the good stuff.)

The retention rate is the percentage of a college’s first-time, first-year undergraduate students who return the next year. Retention rate, she said, tells you more about a community and the people who go there than many other factors. It shows the commitment of the student body. The more comfortable you feel, the better your chances of finding your community. For my niece, this was a big factor. She wanted a college where diversity mattered.

Second, several people recommended your child develop a relationship with the college recruiters. Basic networking matters even here. It won’t guarantee that you’ll get into the school of your choice, but it can’t hurt to have your name front and center.

Apply when and to how many colleges?

But still, one of my biggest questions was when to apply.

“Early. The sooner the better,” said another college admissions expert who works for a D1 school. His point: the college application process is competitive. When you apply early, you will have less competition for a limited number of spots.

Also, the earlier you are accepted, the better your chances at getting more financial aid. All the college admissions people I talked to and Lieber’s book backed this up. (Paying for college — that’s a whole other process that seems separate from this rigmarole. That will take a whole other article.) But know that almost no one pays the full sticker price for college. Even the wealthy work the system. But what you can do is play financial offers off each other. At that point, it’s a negotiation.

This means your kid needs to apply to more than one school.

“Reach for two dream schools,” I was told. “Then two you feel confident about, and two that you are sure that you can get into.” This is exactly what my niece did.

Big choices after college application process success

My niece and I followed all that advice throughout the fall semester of her senior year. She wrote an amazing essay. She applied early, sending applications to at least six colleges. And the result was better than we hoped. She got into her dream school.

But now the challenge really starts. She received a full ride to a different school and numerous other generous financial aid packages from others. This is where the fun really starts because, again, it all comes down to the value question.

It’s not only where she will fit in the best and graduate. Now it comes down to how much she wants to invest in that future. Will the degree or program from her dream college give her a leg up in the world, or will it not matter? I can’t answer that question because the value here is her choice. Lieber’s book goes into this a great deal, and here with the college application process over, I still find myself reading those sections over and over.

The biggest truth, though, is that this isn’t my success. I was merely playing the role of Gandalf through this whole thing. This victory belongs to my niece. She put in the work, filled out the applications, and wrote an amazing essay. I was her hype man. At this stage in all of our children’s lives, I feel like that matters as much as anything else. But that doesn’t mean that my heart does swell with pride.

Our next step is to go through the financial side of how to pay for everything. I’ve written about how college costs have skyrocketed. It’s another quest, with more dragons, but I have no doubt my badass niece is up for the challenge. I’ll be her bard when she needs it.

College application process photo: © terovesalainen/ Adobe Stock.

My oldest son, Yosef, has to start thinking about life after high school. I feel lost about how to help. When I was his age, my college planning process was not really a process at all. 

I knew I wanted to leave home. I also knew the University of Iowa was only 20 miles away. And, I rooted for the black and gold in football. On top of that, my best friend from high school had already made up his mind to become an Iowa Hawkeye. 

Case closed. This college planning stuff was easy, right? 

Twenty years removed, I am scrambling to figure everything out. 

When should Yosef take the SAT?

Should we be road tripping to check out campuses around the country?

What does Yosef know about how to pay for college? (Student Loans, grants, and/or scholarships) 

All this worry and obligation for a kid I still cannot believe is old enough to drive. At times, parenting high school kids feels like standing in the middle of a freeway: You’re dodging speeding cars to evade a disaster that may be completely out of your control. 

Before I succumb to my own doubts about the ability to appropriately help Yosef navigate the college application process, I tell myself to take it piece by piece. 

Step 1: College, trade school, or none of the above?

Before trekking down any path toward my son’s future, we needed agreement about the direction Yosef sees himself going. 

In our household, we insist our kids chase post-high school education of some kind. I should not assume, though, that Yosef’s path is the same that I took. Maybe trade school is an option. Does Yosef have to attend school right away, or would a gap semester be helpful? 

The answers to these questions will shape the way the rest of our college planning will go. I have to get them.    

Step 2: Money, money, money

I hate that we will not be able to feed his checking account and completely cover his tuition bill. That, though, is our family’s reality. Having a big family, in fact, has subtly reinforced the need for Yosef to self-fund a portion of his future education, I think. 

But before I sign him up for a lifetime of student loans, I plan to talk to him about how this all works – mostly based on my own experiences. 

After all, no one ever talked to me about how to pay for college. I keenly remember having a check arrive at the mailbox of my dorm for a student loan overpayment for my first semester. I should have sent it back. Instead, I ate and drank well for a few weeks with that $500. I was a financial idiot leading up to and through college. Yosef will be better informed. 

I help him understand the magnitudes of the money needed for school. To do so properly, I plan to pair this with a discussion about the career path he might take. In a perfect world, I would decouple a discussion about career path and loan payback, but I just cannot in good conscious. Sure, I would love for Yosef to follow a passion. I do not, though, aim to sign him up unwittingly for a lifetime of debts for a career that provides a meager salary. 

Step 3: The work

Finally, I can help Yosef to position himself for college admission and then success once he’s in. 

First things first. He must make good grades. Like REALLY good as kids in his class have cumulative GPAs above 4.5. 

Next, the SAT will become an important differentiator. The good news for students now is that high-priced prep courses of the past are not the only way to prepare to earn higher scores. Our school district provides free resources – like Kahn Academy – that allow Yosef to better prepare for the SAT.       

Lastly, I am told activities outside of grades and scores can make a difference in admission to big-time universities. I’m not convinced. However, I will be using the argument when I continue to plead with Yosef to volunteer in our community or join philanthropic clubs at school.

Step 4: The fun

I may have been clueless about college planning and making dumb financial decisions but, man, was I having a great time! Whatever Yosef ends up doing, I hope he can look back at his post-high school days as favorably as I do. I want him to have the time of his life at school. 

Then again, just writing that phrase makes me nervous. Will he be responsible? Can he wake up for class after going out mid-week? How will Yosef deal with big classes taught by professors who do not care whether you show up or sleep in? 

I will help him learn by talking to him about finding the right balance between having a good time and taking school seriously. 

Step 5: Turn ‘em loose

However, working to arm Yosef with more insights than I had before leaving for college will not help me sleep any better. I will not worry less about him since I will have less influence on his decisions. Helping him wade through today’s financial and scholastic realities also does not mean I am not cheering for him to do whatever it is he feels passionate about. All this effort, in fact, should show Yosef that I want him to succeed.

I will figure it out and so will he. Hopefully, he takes his first step toward a bright future differently than I did, and select a course without regard for his buddy down the street’s opinion or a football rooting interest.

College planning photo: ©Rawpixel.com / Adobe Stock.

Thirty-seven words shaped gender equality in the American school sports and education landscape that our kids take for granted today. 

Title IX of the Educational Amendments of 1972, signed into law by President Richard Nixon that summer, reads:

“No person in the United States shall, on the basis of sex, be excluded from participation in, be denied the benefits of, or be subjected to discrimination under any education program or activity receiving federal financial assistance.”

These 37 words seem almost ridiculous to celebrate now. Of course, girls have the same opportunities as boys, right? Even mentioning this legislative initiative to my 13-year-old daughter resulted in her giving me a WTF look. “What? Duh, Dad. Girls can do anything boys can do,” it seemed to say. “Wait, that was actually a thing back then?”

Yes, gender inequality was “a thing.” And, as we look at the impact of Title IX over the past 50 years, parents should tell our kids all about it.   

State of gender equality in 1972

While civil rights laws of the 1960s banned gender discrimination in hiring practices, similar protections for female students did not exist. In fact, Title IX originates from concerns about educational — not athletic — opportunities for women. 

At the time of its passage, women made up fewer than half of all undergraduates at federally funded universities. At the graduate school level, they constituted less than 10% of those enrolled at law or medical school. On the athletic fields, only 4% of females played sports at college levels. Addressing these gender inequalities in school sports became Title IX’s most pervasive legacy.

Title IX and sports

If our daughters were magically transported to the early 1970s, they would see field of play far different than what they experience now. 

For instance, according to the Women’s Sports Foundation:

• Boys had 10 times the athletic opportunities in high school as girls
• Fewer than 30,000 females played a sport at a college level

These are, in my daughter’s terms, “WTF” stats. These are what we should tell our kids about to show how far we’ve come because of Title IX. 

According to most recent data, nearly 3 million more opportunities exist for girls to play school sports post-Title IX. As a result, now 44% of collegiate athletes are women and 60% of high school girls play a sport. 

As I raise my daughters, I never consider the availability of athletic opportunities an issue for them because they have the chance to join any sport they choose. This would have been impossible without Title IX.

Title IX and the myth of lost opportunities for boys

A myth exists that Title IX has hurt our sons. In fact, parents may have heard Title IX talked about in relation to a situation where teams were impacted because of a lack of availability to female students. This may be when a school has a boys’ wrestling team, but none for girls. Or, it may be when it offers girls’ volleyball but no corresponding opportunity for boys. Let’s be very clear: the opportunities and resources available to our sons still exceeds those provided to our daughters – particularly in sports at all levels. 

A recent report by the NCAA shows that while participation ratios have narrowed significantly, the dollars spent on male sports is twice that of female sports at the Division I level. At the Division II level, the sum is still 25% higher. During the past 20 years, males gained 73,000 participation opportunities while females gained 67,000. 

The criticism that Title IX has hurt boys’ sports is, simply, false.      

More work remains for true gender equality

Given the quantum leaps Title IX has made for equality in the past half century, far more remains to be done. This is where our kids can affect the future.

As Title IX turns 50, the protections of transgender athletes from discrimination must be addressed. While a complicated issue with political, social and religious veins, the treatment of biology as it relates to the activities available for participation must be addressed. 

The scope of Title IX is likely to expand to how sexual discrimination cases are handled. On the table for potential changes are presumption of innocence and burden of proof mandates – both amended during the Trump administration. 

So, while Title IX has been a resounding success, there are more issues it can help solve. As parents, we should not allow the tangled, highly politicized future of Title IX to shadow its monumentally successful past. 

My daughter’s dismissive “duh” reaction to me reminding her of the effort it took to create a girls’ soccer program should not go unnoticed. 

The 2021 announcement of the University of Iowa’s female wrestling team – the first for the men’s college wrestling powerhouse – should be celebrated by parents everywhere. 

As my son takes the SAT this fall, I will remind him that he is rightfully competing against everyone – not just the white males that monopolized collegiate undergraduate programs before the 1970s. 

So, parents, let’s wish a loud “Happy Birthday” to Title IX. 

And, just as loudly, let us wish the inequalities it has addressed over its 50-year existence are not a “thing” my sons and daughters will have to explain to their children.

Photo: ©Rawpixel.com / Adobe Stock.

EDITOR’S NOTE: For more helpful tips on helping teens handle stress, visit The Center for Parent and Teen Communication’s special Managing Stress section.

Let’s scoreboard what my teenagers have been through in the last couple of years.

Pandemic. Virtual schooling. Dating. About 500 emails from the school telling them they’ve been exposed to COVID. Quarantine. PSATs. Three separate school-wide walkouts to protest slurs. And college recruiters asking them about their future.

Oh, and they get no more snow days. That last one just seems mean.

As an adult, that is enough to stress me out daily. But how about my teenagers? How does a teen today deal with a world that is chaotic, loud and confusing?

How to spot teen stress

When I’m stressed, I get angry and want to confront the source of the stress. When my stress contributes to my anxiety, I write snarky articles blaming the everyone in the world for being giant jerks. I also swear a lot. However, that’s not the way stress and anxiety present in a teen.

Dads are often advised to watch for their teenagers pulling away or getting frustrated. Advice like that makes me think the people who wrote it have never dealt with a teenager. To spot stress in your teen, it requires a bit more work.

“You have to engage,” Dr. Jeffery Bernstein, author of The Stress Survival Guide for Teens and 10 Days to a Less Defiant Child, said in an interview with me. “Create a safe space where they feel comfortable talking to you.” 

For me, that brings up visions of cat cafés and chai tea — both things I’d rather not do. I’m more of a dog person.

But I get what he is saying and have practiced it with my own two teenagers. I’ve ditched the “big fatherly talk” where I sit in a regal Victorian chair and have on a dad sweater. Instead, every day I take some time to engage with my teens on their level.

A safe space for talking, listening, observing

My son loves gaming, so I take the time to play with him. Yes, he mops the floor with me, but the point is that I’m there in his environment. This is where we can talk without any extra pressure. With my 15-year-old daughter, it’s scary movies. That time is devoted to her talking about her life.

Conversations come easy when they have the backdrop of something they like, and it gives me a chance to see if they are more withdrawn than usual. My teenagers are more open, forthcoming and honest in these moments.

Often, a teen under stress will verbalize their thoughts in these environments. They don’t know how to deal with the stressors in their lives or that they could even use help. When I am engaged in my kids’ spaces, it opens up those lines of communication. This is what Dr. Bernstein means by creating a safe space.

It’s not just one Ward Cleaver type of moment, but a series of small interactions during the month that last anywhere from 10 minutes to two hours. It’s there that I can help them verbalize rather than to internalize. I like that phrase enough that I’m going to turn it into a bumper sticker now.

Let’s talk coping strategies

Once I know they are stressed, that’s where I struggle as a father. Instinctively, I want to fight their battles.

“Don’t come into it with a fix-it mindset. Lead with empathy,” Bernstein said. “And then use modeling to show them how to cope.”

We need to empower our kids and teach them problem-solving and coping skills. That begins with you. Don’t fight their battles, let them figure out the solution with your guidance. Point them in the right direction of a solution and let them arrive there through their efforts. This will give them ownership of the skill. That ownership will stick with them longer than a lecture.

Sometimes that means that I share their anger and stress. That boy broke your heart? He’s a jerk. That test was hard? Oomph, tell me about it. That then allows me to provide them guidance and perspective based on my experiences. For example, if choosing a college is difficult, then I begin planning small steps with them.

We also have to model better with our own behaviors. When I’m stressed, I swear a lot more. That’s not the best example. A better example would be exercise, eating better, and sticking to a sleep schedule — three things parents the world over are terrible at. But it goes further than that basic cliché advice.

Model your stress management to your teen

We need to share with our children when we are stressed and make it relatable. This is where a lot of fathers fail, including me.

We have it in our heads that as dad, we should be indestructible. We want them to see us the same way they did when they were 3: perfect. They don’t need perfect right now. Our teenagers need reality.

That’s not to mean that we dump a series of adult stresses on them. Instead, Dr. Bernstein states that we should take a coaching approach.

I’ll let my daughter and my son know when I have a deadline coming up that makes me stressed. I’ll usually throw in a joke, but I’ll also let them see my actions. I’m proactive in my solutions. I’ll set a time to get the task done, reward myself when it is done, and then make a plan for the next step.

My kids also see me practice mindfulness. I take 20 minutes a day and run through a program on our VR headset. It helps clear my thoughts and focus on the here and now. As I practice these coping strategies, I’ve talked to my kids about why I’m doing them. That’s how I coach them, and they have begun to adopt some of these strategies.

Keep calm and carry on

Finally, we need help controlling our anger. No one can push our buttons like our teenagers.

“Remove your ego out of the conversation. See it as if you’re watching it from above. Don’t escalate the situation or take it personally,” Bernstein said in our interview.

Easier said than done. But when I speak calmly, I notice my children respond better. And if that’s not working, we all put ourselves into timeout. Timeouts as an adult are awesome.

And if none of the strategies above are working, then it might be time to seek out professional help. Having a third party to talk to may give your teenagers a chance to open up in a way that they can’t with you.

Yes, the world can be a stressful place for adults, and as fathers we need to be aware that our kids share in that stress. Teaching them coping skills is something that they will use for the rest of their life.

And if all else fails, then teach them to swear with the best of them. Don’t put that on me though, I’m stressed enough as it is.

Teen stress photo: ©Rawpixel.com / Adobe Stock.

Back-to-school tips: we need them now more than ever, right?

COVID-19 concerns. Distance learning struggles. Hybrid-learning model hiccups. Screen time worries. Balancing working from home with a child schooling from home. It all adds up to more pressure on you and your family.

To help with some of these issues you may be encountering, City Dads Group has been working with longtime partner Dove Men+Care to create a series of “how to” videos to deal with various parenting issues. The videos are all part of the grooming products company’s 2020 “Dads Care” campaign.

Here’s some back-to-school tips you may find helpful — or at least entertaining — so your child and you can have a good time while learning during this new normal.

Reading is vital to learning. However, with electronic distractions and pandemic worries all around it can be difficult to get your children focused and into a reading routine especially at back-to-school time. Drew Bennett of our Boston Dads Group explains how he helped his kids become voracious lovers of the written word:

James Lopez of our NYC Dads Group demonstrates the fun way he has been helping his young son learn his numbers, thanks to a positive attitude and some colorful chalk:

Beating stress during back-to-school time is as important for your kids as it is for you. In this video, Devon Bandison of our NYC Dads Group helps you and your child learn how to meditate:

Healthy body, healthy mind, as they say. So while school work is important, don’t forget to let your child get away from the books from time to time to go outside for some fun and physical activity. Jason Greene of our NYC Dads Group offers some helpful tips:

Education shouldn’t be all facts and figures. For younger children especially, arts and crafts can provide fun while learning about colors, shapes, textures and much more. Graphic designer Brent Almond of our Baltimore Dads Group teach you how to get crafty with your children:

Back-to-school tips photo: © Evgeniy Kalinovskiy  / Adobe Stock.

My oldest started high school football practice recently, but we have talked more about his team’s pregame routine than touchdowns or tackles. Instead of X’s and O’s, Yosef and I are commiserating over whether he will kneel or stand during the national anthem. I wonder if other dads of third-string placekickers are spending time doing the same this summer.

Former NFL star Colin Kaepernick, who cost himself millions of dollars and a promising football career after kneeling during the anthem, has been back in the news in recent weeks. And with the ongoing protests and marches in reaction to high-profile instances of police violence against black people, the racial cavities that divide us are proving vast as well as immediate.

Taking a knee before a high school football game might seem relatively meaningless in the whole scheme of things, but I understand why it might seem noteworthy in the mind of an incoming freshman like Yosef, who my wife and I adopted from Ethiopia about 13 years ago.

I do have some strong feelings on the subject. I want to be careful, though, about projecting my views onto my son. In fact, during this time of boiling, racial turmoil, I wanted to take the opportunity to have a deeper discussion with a kid who’s usually tough to engage.

When he asked whether he should kneel during the national anthem, I asked him four questions. Yosef’s answers, I think, provided a blueprint for anyone wondering the same.

Question 1:  Why are you kneeling?

Kaepernick knelt to shine a light on a social issue that, in his opinion, had little advocacy. If Yosef chooses to kneel, what issue has compelled him to do so?

Choosing to kneel during the national anthem must start with an issue – not necessarily the  same one Kaepernick has – that you are passionate about. If Yosef doesn’t have such passion, or if he seems solely to be succumbing to the pressures of other black teammates or the significance of such a gesture to many others, I’d advise him to stay standing.

Kneeling is the outcome of a burning desire to make a difference, not vice versa.

Question 2: How are you sacrificing?

When Colin Kaepernick elected to kneel during The Star-Spangled Banner, he made several burdensome sacrifices. Kaepernick gave up, by some estimates, up to $100 million, yielding himself unemployable by NFL standards, and turned himself into a political lightning rod.

The ashes of Kaepernick’s career as the backdrop, I asked Yosef: What might you be sacrificing if you kneel?

Might Yosef alienate himself from some other classmates and parents? Yes.

Might his coach, in an act of retaliation, sit him on the bench? Very possibly.

Suddenly, Yosef might suddenly find himself to be “that pot stirrer” rather than “that skinny freshman.” No athlete who kneels will EVER pay as steep a cost as Kaepernick has – certainly not my son. There will be a price to pay, though, and it might be significant to a kid entering a new school in the fall.

Without a good understanding of what sacrifices could be demanded of him, there is no way for a kid to assess whether kneeling pregame is the best personal choice.

Question 3: Are you prepared if you face retaliation?

At one point, my son asked if I’d thought his coach might take notice if players kneeled during the anthem? My answer was a question: “Do you care?”

If players care that they might lose playing time if their coach disagrees with their stance, they should not kneel. A willingness to trade activism for a starting spot is a kneeling non-starter.

Question 4: What are you going to give?

Lost on many in the story of Colin Kaepernick is that he has made good on a pledge to donate millions to causes that share his passion for ending oppression. So as our discussion continued, I asked Yosef, “So, if you kneel, you’ll be planning to donate to charity, right?”

My son looked confused. He didn’t connect the dots between activism and support, financial or time-wise. If my son kneels, I want him to do so for a cause important enough to demand his resources.

Kneeling, particularly at a high school game, is meaningless at its face. The only lasting impact is in devoting time or money to local organizations that champion the reason for the kneeling.

As long as he’s ready to give, he can consider kneeling.

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I am glad I chose to create a dialogue with my son rather than dismissing him. Asking those four questions helped me learn more about his thoughts – and let me wade through mine, too.

I learned that Yosef cares deeply about the same issues that Kaepernick knelt for. Yosef explained to me his feelings about the Black Lives Matter protests, and his role in changing the underlying injustices have stained American history. My son, I believe, will be a starting point for a more inclusive American future.

Yosef, though, showed me that he lacked the maturity to connect activism and activity. He saw kneeling during the national anthem as little more than symbolic – an act that might convey a disgust in the status quo. To him, that symbolic gesture was it – he did not need to do anything else.

He didn’t plan to donate his allowance. He wouldn’t think of volunteering.

Yosef certainly was evaluating whether  he’d be benched while determining his pregame routine. And whether he was OK with that.

I did not forbid Yosef from kneeling. I did not tell him to respect the flag and those who’ve sacrificed. I refused to dismiss him as only trying to get attention.

And, because I asked him those few questions, he may now have a more adequate answer.

Photo: © mezzotint_fotolia / Adobe Stock.

Around the time children reach middle school (or certainly by high school), they often encounter an academic subject they do not like. Whether it’s English, history, science or math, they will find the class boring, meaningless or irrelevant to their lives — no matter how much they love learning in general. Then parents have to confront the inevitable question: “Why do we need to learn this?”

In my experience, there are several layers to answering this question. The surface, knee-jerk, I’m-very-busy response involves a stream of words like “because the school requires it / that’s the way it is / I had to do it so let’s stop whining and get to work or there will be consequences.” This is the least effective reply.

A deeper layer of understanding involves asking a few questions before responding. Are there any social, nonacademic reasons he or she does not like the class, or is it simply the subject matter? If they confirm it is only the subject matter, it might be helpful to review the “well rounded” argument. You could explain that it’s important for everyone to be exposed to diverse fields of knowledge to grow into educated, culturally literate citizens. Also, some topics might become more interesting to them later in life, and at the very least there is value in learning of their distaste for a subject early in their educational journey.

At this point, you risk an eye roll from your kid, which I know from experience. But that eye roll led to my deepest layer of responding to the “why” question: I consulted my former self. Determined to keep trying to answer the question, I recalled that I once wrote a column for my college newspaper over twenty years ago about this very topic. Because I’m a hoarder of memories, I eventually found a copy of the column.

My own voice from the past spoke to my daughters in the present

Sharing that column with my daughters was revelatory for all of us. First, the headshot proved that I did, in fact, have voluminous hair in the distant past. More importantly, it showed that when I was close to their age I empathized completely with their concern: “For a long time one of my major pet peeves about certain subjects in school was their apparent lack of meaning and value in my life.” So a frustrating history was repeating itself, but I felt that by addressing the problem, we were not destined to repeat all the frustration.

Speaking of history, my attempt at humor back then focused on the seeming triviality of learning about The War of 1812: “I once learned all about the War of 1812 and used all the best memory-retention study techniques at the time, but now I could tell you little more than the date the war occurred.”

Fortunately, however, my former self developed an answer to the why-study-this-topic question that has become food for thought for my daughters. I argued that “by achieving good grades in those classes we view as meaningless, we prove to potential employers and admissions committees that we have learned how to learn [original italics]. Attaining a good grade in a class outside our sphere of interest displays that despite our negative opinion of its value, we were still able to produce enough motivation, intellectual ability, and sheer hard work to learn the material. … In the future we will be prepared to master the skills of our careers.”

Granted, this answer contains traces of a college student’s overconfidence and overlooks the value of self-improvement. It also does not settle the issue. But my daughters read it with begrudging acceptance, and we continue to talk about the motivation issue for certain subjects. Most importantly, we have learned that their current selves and my former self have more in common than we thought. Such empathy and validation can go a long way toward helping your children find value in—or at least survive — their least favorite class.

My daughter just finished the first week of her junior year of high school. I have absolutely no idea how it went for her, or how this year’s going to be, despite my daily attempts at Dad Recon from her bedroom doorway each afternoon.

MONDAY

Me: Hey! How was the first day of school, Miss Junior Year?

Her:  You know, it was pretty good! I know where my classes are, and they’ll all pretty close together except for environmental science.

Me: That’s good! Did you have any of your friends in your classes?

Her: Yeah! Brianna is in my English, and John and Rain are in my math.

Me: How was your “mock trial” class? I know you were bummed about having to take it, but I think it might be really great for you.

Her: I think it’s actually going to be interesting! Mr. Tormey is teaching it, and I had him for history last year, and he’s really funny. So that’s really cool.

Me: Outstanding!

Her: I know! Also, I hung out with Grace, Drewes and Eliana at lunch. I really missed them.

Me: Well, that all sounds great!

Her: AND … I think I may really like my English teacher this year. Her name is Ms. Speers, and she seems super nice, and she’s young so she won’t be all boring.

Me: You like your English teacher? A first! How awesome!

Her: I know!

Me: First-day success! Let’s celebrate with ice cream!

Her: YES!!!!!

Me: High five!

[Enthusiastic high fives ensue.]

TUESDAY

Me: Knock, knock! Hey there, Junior! How was school today?

Her: [Muffled, due to the pillow over her face.] Shitty. I hate everyone.

Me: But … but … your friends?

Her: What friends.

Me: You said yesterday that … never mind. How was your cool English teacher today?

Her: She’s awful. She hates me. We already have a research paper. And I was late to science today because it’s too far away from English, and so that teacher’s going to hate me, too.

Me: O … K. Well, what did you do in mock trial today?

Her: I had to speak in front of everyone and I sucked. Everything sucks.

Me: But … but …

Her: This year is gonna be the worst year of my life.

Me: I’m sorry. Um … high-five?

Her: Don’t even talk to me.

WEDNESDAY

Me: [Knocks gingerly then opens door just a crack.] Um … Knock knock?

Her:  [Ignores me due to ear buds.]

Me: [Waves to get her attention.]  Yo. Junior. Hello.

Her: [Plucks out buds reluctantly.] Hi. What.

Me: How was Day Three? Dare I ask?

Her: [Sighs.] It was OK, I guess. I don’t know.

Me: You don’t know? Was it bad?

Her: [More sighing.] It was school.

Me: Meaning what?

Her: It’s gonna be the same as last year. Only harder.

Me: Why harder?

Her: Because it’s junior year. I found out that junior year is, like, the hardest year of high school.

Me: It is. Why?

Her: Dad. Have you ever heard of college?

Me: Yes, youngling. I’m familiar with the concept.

Her: This is the year when grades count the most. Everything is about grades for college. If you screw up your junior year, you don’t get into any colleges anywhere. AND, I need to take the SAT this fall.

Me: Why so soon?

Her: Because the first time I take it I’m going to suck at it, so I need to get that out of the way early.

Me: Oh.

Her: I’m going flunk out of school, I won’t get into college, and I’m going to have to live in a box under an off ramp.

Me: Wow. I can see why you’re bummed.

Her: Whatever. It’s school. And life. Plus, Brianna isn’t my friend anymore. We had a thing at lunch today.

Me: That’s too bad. I’m sorry to hear that. What was the thing about?

Her: It doesn’t matter. In 100 years we’ll all be dead anyway.

Me: Sounds like you’re in a malaise.

Her: [Shrugs.]

Me: [Lifts one hand.] Melancholy high-five?

Her: [Eyeballs roll, ear buds reinserted.] Maybe later.

THURSDAY

Me: [Knocks on door.] Hey, Kid.

Her: [No answer.]

Me: [Peeks head in.] Just seeing how school was today. Didn’t want to intrude if you want to be alone.

Her: [Stares at me with laser eyes.] Just so you know. This year is going to suck, and it’s basically your fault.

Me: MY fault? Why?

Her: I can’t believe you didn’t make try out for the fall play two years ago.

Me: [Confused and disoriented.] Oh. Wait. What? What are you talking about?

Her: OH MY GOD, Dad. The fall musical? When I was a freshman? I wanted to try out, but I didn’t, and you just let me not do it instead of making me audition, like you should have. And now there’s no way I’ll ever be able to be in the play this year because all those theater people started doing it two years ago, and now there’s no room for me. So THANKS A LOT. [Focuses laser stare at me until I feel my face getting uncomfortably warm.]

Me: I’ll talk to you later.

FRIDAY

Me: [Gently knocks on door.] Is it safe?

Her: Huh? What do you mean?

Me: [Opens door a crack, peers in with one eyeball.] Just wanted to see how we’re feeling now that the first week of school is officially over. I can come back later.

Her: Just come in, Dad. God. Why are you being weird?

Me: [Enters room cautiously, scanning for booby traps and quicksand.] How … how was school?

Her: It was fine. Why are you acting like you’re surrounded by wolves or something?

Me: Just wanted to check in and see what you think about your first week as a junior. I can come back later.

Her: [Face of innocence.] Dad, it was completely fine.

Me: How’s that English teacher?

Her: She was cool. We learned about logical fallacies. She asked everyone what a “straw man” argument was, and I totally knew.

Me: And how was it getting across campus for science class? That sounded pretty hard to do in so little time.

Her: [Brushes away with one hand.] It’s not a big deal. I just cut through the art building and behind the auditorium, and I’m there in plenty of time.

Me: And Brianna? Is she going to be a problem?

Her: What do you mean? She’s one of my best friends. She was just having bad cramps and had temporary Bitch Syndrome yesterday. I told her I get the same way. We’re totally cool.

Me: Oh. Well, that’s good. Are you still worried about grades and stuff? It’s junior year, after all.

Her: Dad, it’s fine. I mean, it’s school, but it’s fine. There’s an SAT prep class I might take, and it’ll be a couple weeks before homework gets too crazy, I think.

Me: I see. That’s a relief, then. OK. I’ll let you know when dinner’s ready. [Withdraws and starts closing door.]

Her: Wait!

Me: Yes?

Her:  Hello, it’s Friday. Friday high-five. [She waits, hand raised.]

Me:  High five, indeed.

[The highing of fives commences. I leave her room, confused, exhausted, and needing aspirin. Happy First Week of School, everyone.]

The window of elementary school is officially closing behind our family with our youngest moving up soon. In fact, the boys are each moving up an academic notch, to middle and high school, respectively. Between them, we shall leave no path wanting wear, and little said of undergrowth. We are moving, quickly, into the big, bold future. Transition — it’s a thing.

I never really thought about life after elementary school. That is, I knew it would happen, but later rather than sooner. In theory, we’ve prepared. We have college savings plans for the boys and something growing toward retirement for my wife and me. But all of that was always far, far away, not next week.

It’s not that I’m blindsided by the existence of change, but with a combined 12 years of elementary school serving as the center of our life and routine, it has all blended with forever, and I lost track of time. After all, when one is floating across the sea eternal, it is understandable should they stop searching for land upon the horizon.

Land, ho! We’re beached.

I suppose the thing I find most surprising, is that I’m OK with it. That’s a big deal, considering I’ve made a career from melancholy, over a decade of waxing bittersweet nostalgia in real time for more parenting outlets than I care to remember. I’ve held to the early years of childhood like nothing else mattered, and, I suppose, at the time, nothing did. However, in doing so I have spent far more paragraphs pining for moments passed than pondering the escapades awaiting ahead. Fun fact: adventure is still out there.

It’s funny: the transformation of a moment, the loss of luster as first steps become a whirlwind of sprints and dance moves. While the beginning was and always will be a big deal, there is something deeply satisfying in seeing the learned become the applied, the steps into springboards. The boys can walk the walk, and now it is time to see where they are going.

There is probably a way to spin the downside. For instance, I can barely lift them, and unless we’re in the pool neither will ever again ride upon my shoulders. And, they eat everything. Constantly. To the point that we’re spending more money on groceries now than ever before. Also, there is less hand-holding and so many things that they’ve outgrown.

Yet, for all that, I see their growth as a wonderful experience: their strength of back and character, a hunger for nourishment and knowledge, and the daily reminder that hand-holding is also a thing done figuratively. The only downside is in failing to appreciate it as it happens.

One day, these moments, too, will fade into that blur behind us, the constant projection of highlights and gag reels, the montage of their youth upon the inside of our eyelids, but even then, spread apart as we may be, there will be new scenes to cherish. I can only hope the boys share them on Facebook because I would never want to miss them.