“Adolescents are travelers, far from home with no native land, neither children nor adults. They are jet-setters who fly from one country to another with amazing speed. Sometimes they are four years old, an hour later they are twenty-five. They don’t really fit anywhere. There’s a yearning for place, a search for solid ground.” – Mary Pipher, Reviving Ophelia
“Mom, do you know where my sweatshirt is?”
Oh, oh, I think to myself. It’s in the wash. Now what?
“Check the washing machine,” I shout back. “I think you’re going to have to wear a different one.” Fat chance.
Different being the operative word.
There is no such thing as different in junior high school. From the moment they walk on campus, junior high school-ers enter into a sea of sameness. An ocean of students where the only rule is “don’t-draw-attention-to-yourself.” A place where everyone tries to stay under the radar and the daily uniform consists of the same two or three articles of clothing worn in sequence day after day after day. Dark shades are in, bright colors are out, and black is king.
Black. What a cheerful, vibrant, color. Ah, the journey into adolescence.
It’s as if they are two different creatures. On the inside, they are soft and malleable, searching to find their essence, to discover who they are and plant the seeds for who they will become. They are self conscious and wound easily, but they will not show it. They grasp at their individuality, anxious to grab hold of something that they can call their own.
It is the outside that most of us see. The black sweatshirt that serves as a shield for what lies within, an armor of clothing or behavior or attitudes that are meant to keep them safe from the battles they fight every day. Because often the enemy is among them.
And of course, the work of adolescence is to gain enough confidence to bring the inside, out.
You have other sweatshirts, I say to no one in particular. Other sweatshirts that you picked out, I might add. Other sweatshirts that were fine a month or so ago, before they were banished to clothing hell.
It ain't easy being the parent of two teenagers. And sometimes you need a reminder that the inside kid is still in there.
A few years ago we took a vacation to Nantucket. A wonderful, relaxing, family togetherness kind of vacation that re-energizes the soul and reminds you that there are things you actually like about each other. Nantucket's a wonderful place, an island off the coast of Cape Cod in Massachusetts that draws its history from the sea. For many years it was the world’s leading whaling port and the tiny town boasts a wonderful whaling museum that captures the essence of life in the late 1800’s.
As we wandered the streets in search of the perfect souvenir, my oldest spotted a t-shirt in a shop just off the main street. He had found what he wanted, he said, and he set off to show us his discovery. “Which one is it?” we asked him, fully expecting his choice to be one of the dark, under-the-radar-variety he had been sporting all year.
“That one,” he said and he pointed to a bright green shirt with a whale on the front and it quickly became a summer favorite.
That is, until it was time to go back to school.
“It’s such a great shirt,” I said to him, trying to be encouraging and feeling exasperated, “Why don’t you wear it?”
But of course, as obvious as the answer was, I didn’t want to see it. It was, after all, an inside shirt and he wasn’t quite ready to show to the outside world.
Patience is a virtue, I remind myself, not one of my strongest suits. I guess I'll just have to wait.