How to Talk So Teens Will Listen & Listen So Teens Will Talk

by Adele Faber

  I had no idea what kind of response I’d get, but she was great. She said she was very glad I had called because she had been hearing more and more stories lately about what she referred to as “cyber bullying” and that she had been planning to discuss the problem with the principal to see what could be done to help all the students understand how damaging this kind of online abuse and harassment can be.

  By the end of our conversation I felt a whole lot better. I actually found myself thinking, Who knows? Maybe something good will come of all this.

  Jim

  My oldest son has a part-time job at a fast-food restaurant. Last Saturday, when he came home from work, he slammed his back-pack on the table and began cursing out his boss. Every other word out of his mouth started with an f or an s.

  It turns out that when his boss had asked him if he’d put in some extra hours on weekends, my son told him, “Maybe.” But when he got to work on Saturday morning and was about to tell the boss he’d definitely do it, the “bastard” (to quote my son) had given away the overtime to someone else.

  Well, the kid was lucky I didn’t let loose with what I really wanted to say: “Why does that surprise you? What did you expect? Grow up! How’s a man supposed to run a business with an employee who tells him ‘maybe’ he’ll work. ‘Maybe’ doesn’t cut it.”

  But I didn’t chew him out. And I didn’t even mention the cursing—this time. I just said, “So you didn’t feel you had to give him a definite answer right away.” He said, “No, I needed to think about it!”

  I said, “Uh-huh.”

  He said, “I’ve got a life besides this job, you know!”

  I thought, This stuff isn’t working.

  Then from out of the blue he says, “I guess I goofed. I should’ve called him when I got home and not left him hanging.”

  How about that? I showed him a little understanding, and he owned up to what he should’ve done in the first place!

  Laura

  A few days after our workshop I took my daughter shopping for jeans. Big mistake. Nothing she tried on was “right.” It wasn’t the right fit, or the right color, or the right designer label. Finally she found a pair she liked—a low-cut, skintight number that she could barely zip up and that outlined every part of her bottom.

  I didn’t say a word. I just left her in the dressing room and went out to look for a larger size. When I came back, she was still admiring herself in the mirror. She took one look at the pants I held up for her and started yelling, “I’m not trying those on! You want me to look like a nerd! Just because you’re fat, you think everyone should wear big clothes. Well, I’m not gonna hide my body the way you do!”

  I was so hurt, so angry, I came very close to calling her a little bitch. But I didn’t. I said, “I’ll wait for you outside.” It was all I could manage.

  She said, “What about my jeans?”

  I repeated, “I’ll wait for you outside,” and left her in the dressing room.

  When she finally came out, the last thing I wanted to do was “acknowledge her feelings,” but I did anyway. I said, “I know you liked those jeans. And I know you’re upset because I don’t approve of them.” Then I let her know how I felt. “When I’m spoken to that way, something in me shuts down. I don’t feel like shopping anymore, or helping anymore, or even talking anymore.”

  Neither one of us said anything on the whole ride home. But just before we got to the house, she mumbled, “Sorry.”

  It wasn’t much of an apology, but still, I was glad to hear it. I was also glad I hadn’t said anything to her that I would’ve had to apologize for.

  Linda

  I don’t know if my relationship with my son is any better, but I think I’m making some headway with his friends. They’re thirteen-year-old twins, Nick and Justin, both very bright, but out of control. They smoke (I suspect more than cigarettes), they hitch rides, and once when their parents grounded them, they climbed out their bedroom window and went to the mall.

  My son is flattered by their interest in him, but I’m worried. I’m sure he’s been hitching rides with them, even though he denies it. If I had my way, I’d forbid him to see them outside of school. But my husband says that would only make things worse, that he’ll find a way to see them anyway and lie about it.

  So our strategy over the past month has been to invite the twins over for dinner every Saturday. We figure that if they’re here, we can keep an eye on all of them and drive them to where they want to go. At least for one night we’d know they weren’t standing on a dark corner somewhere with their thumbs out, waiting for some stranger in a car to pick them up.

  Anyway, what all this is leading up to is that until now we could never get a conversation going with either of the twins. But after last week’s workshop we actually made some progress.

  The two of them were bad-mouthing their science teacher and calling him a stupid jerk. Normally we would’ve defended the teacher. But not this time. This time we tried to acknowledge how the twins felt about him. My husband said, “This is one teacher you really don’t like.” And they kept telling us more: “He’s so boring. And he always yells at you for no reason. And if he calls on you and you don’t know the answer, he puts you down in front of everybody.”

  I said, “Nick, I’ll bet if you and Justin were teachers, you wouldn’t yell at kids or put them down for not knowing an answer.”

  They both said, “Right!” at almost the same time.

  My husband added, “And neither one of you would be boring. Kids would be lucky to have you two as their teachers.”

  They looked at each other and laughed. My son sat there with his mouth open. He couldn’t believe his “cool” friends were actually having a conversation with his “uncool” parents.

  Karen

  Last night Stacey and I were looking through an old photograph album. I pointed to a picture of her on her bicycle when she was about six and said, “Look how cute you were!”

  “Yeah,” she said, “then” I said, “What do you mean ‘then’?” She said, “I don’t look that good now.” I said, “Don’t be silly. You look fine.” She said, “No, I don’t. I look gross. My hair’s too short, my boobs are too small, and my butt’s too big.”

  It always gets to me when she talks that way about herself. It reminds me of my own insecurities when I was her age and how my mother was always at me with suggestions for how I could improve myself: “Don’t slouch … Hold your shoulders up… Do something with your hair … Put a little makeup on. You look like the wrath of God!”

  So yesterday when Stacey started picking herself apart, my first instinct was to reassure her: “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with your butt, your hair will grow, and so will your breasts. And if they don’t, you can always pad your bra.”

  Well, that’s the kind of thing I would’ve said. But this time I thought, Okay, I’ll go with her feelings. I put my arm around her and said, “You don’t sound at all satisfied with the way you look. … You know what I wish? I wish that the next time you stand in front of a mirror that you’d be able to see what I see.”

  She suddenly looked interested. “What do you see?”

  I told her the truth. “I see a girl who’s beautiful—inside and out.”

  She said, “Oh, you’re my mother,” and left the room.

  A minute later I saw her posing in front of the full-length mirror in the hall. She had her hand on her hip and she was actually smiling at herself.

  Michael

  Remember I mentioned my son’s negative attitude toward school? Well, the morning after our workshop he came down to breakfast in his usual bad mood. He was stomping around the kitchen, complaining about all the pressure he was under. He had to take two big tests—Spanish and geometry—in one day.

  I nearly told him what I always tell him when he carries on like that: “If you did your work and studied the way you should, you wouldn’t have to worry about taking tests.” But my wife poked me and gave me this look, an
d I remembered about the fantasy thing. So I said, “Wouldn’t it be great if an announcement suddenly came over the radio—’Snow day today! Major storm expected. All schools closed!’ “

  That took him by surprise. He actually smiled. So I ramped it up. I said, “Know what would really be great? If any day you had a test turned into a snow day.”

  He gave a kind of half-laugh and said, “Yeah … I wish!” But by the time he left for school, he was in a better mood.

  Steven

  I’ve been remarried for over a year now, and Amy, my fourteen-year-old, has resented my new wife from day one. Every time I pick up Amy at her mother’s house for her weekend with Carol and me, it’s the same story. The minute she gets in the car she finds something to criticize about Carol.

  And no matter what I say to Amy, I can’t seem to get through. I point out how unfair she’s being to Carol, how she doesn’t give her a chance, how Carol has worked so hard to be her friend. But the more I talk, the more she tries to prove me wrong.

  It’s a good thing I came to the workshop last week, because the following Sunday, when I picked up Amy, she started right in: “I hate coming to your house. Carol is always hanging around. Why did you have to marry her?”

  There was no way I could deal with this and drive, so I pulled over and turned off the ignition. All I could think was, Take it easy. Don’t argue with her. Don’t even try to reason with her. Just listen this time. Let her get everything out. So I said, “Okay, Amy, sounds like you’ve got a lot of strong feelings there. Is there anything else?”

  She said, “You don’t want to hear what I have to say. You never do.”

  “I do now. Because I can hear how angry and unhappy you are.”

  Well, that did it. Out came a long list of complaints: “She’s not as sweet as you think … She’s a big phony … All she cares about is you … She just pretends to like me.”

  I never once took Carol’s side or tried to convince Amy she was wrong. I just oh-ed and mmm-ed and listened.

  Finally, she sighed and said, “Oh, what’s the use.”

  I said, “There is a use. Because knowing how you feel is important to me.”

  She looked at me, and I could see she had tears in her eyes. “Know something else?” I said. “We need to make sure we get to spend more time together on weekends—just the two of us.”

  “How about Carol?” she asked. “Won’t she be mad?”

  “Carol will understand,” I said.

  Anyway, later that day Amy and I took the dog for a long walk in the park. Now I can’t prove there’s any connection, but that weekend was the best Carol, Amy, and I ever had together.

  a quick reminder

  Acknowledge Your Teenager’s Feelings

  Teen: Oh no! What’ll I do? I told the Gordons I’d babysit for them Saturday, and now Lisa called and invited me to her sleepover!

  Parent: What you should do is …

  Instead of dismissing your teen’s feelings and giving advice:

  Identify thoughts and feelings:

  “Sounds as if you’re pulled in two directions. You want to go to Lisa’s, but you don’t want to disappoint the Gordons.”

  Acknowledge feelings with a word or sound:

  “Uhh!”

  Give in fantasy what you can’t give in reality:

  “Wouldn’t it be great if you could clone yourself! One of you could babysit and the other could go to the sleepover.”

  Accept feelings as you redirect behavior:

  “I hear how much you’d rather go to Lisa’s. The problem is, you gave the Gordons your word. They’re counting on you.”

  Two

  We’re Still “Making Sure”

  I was eager to begin tonight’s meeting. At the end of our last session, Jim had taken me aside to express his frustration at not being able to get his teenagers to do what he wanted them to do when he wanted them to do it. I acknowledged the difficulty and told him that if he could hang in there one more week, we’d go into the subject in depth.

  As soon as everyone had assembled, I wrote the topic of the evening on the board:

  Skills for Engaging Cooperation

  “Let’s start at the very beginning,” I said. “When our kids were little, much of our time with them was spent ‘making sure.’ We made sure they washed their hands, brushed their teeth, ate their vegetables, went to bed on time, and remembered to say please and thank you.

  “There were also things we made sure they didn’t do. We made sure they didn’t run into the street, climb on the table, throw sand, hit, spit, or bite.

  “We expected that by the time they reached their adolescent years, most of the lessons would have been learned. But much to our frustration and exasperation, we find ourselves still on the job ‘making sure.’ True, our teenagers don’t bite or climb on the table anymore, but most still need reminders to do their homework, do their chores, eat sensibly, bathe periodically, get enough sleep, and get up on time. We’re also still making sure there are things they don’t do. ‘Don’t wipe your mouth with your sleeve’ … ‘Don’t throw your clothes on the floor’ … ‘Don’t tie up the phone’ … ‘Don’t use that tone of voice with me!’

  “Each home is different. Each parent is different. Each teenager is different. What are the things you feel you need to ‘make sure’ your teenager does or doesn’t do in the course of a day? Let’s start with the morning.”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, people began calling out:

  “I make sure he doesn’t fall back to sleep after the alarm goes off.”

  “Or skip breakfast.”

  “Or wear the same clothes three days in a row.”

  “Or hog the bathroom so no one else can get in.”

  “Or come late to his first class because he missed the bus again.”

  “Or pick a fight with her sister.”

  “Or forget to take her keys and lunch money.”

  “How about the afternoon?” I asked. “What’s on your ‘make sure’ list?”

  “Call me at work as soon as you get into the house.”

  “Walk the dog.”

  “Start your homework.”

  “Don’t eat junk food.”

  “Don’t have any friends over of the opposite sex when I’m not home.”

  “Don’t forget to practice the piano (violin, saxophone).”

  “Don’t leave the house without telling me where you’re going.”

  “Don’t tease your sister.”

  “Now it’s evening,” I said. “Again, what are your do’s and don’ts for your teens?” People thought for a moment and then…

  “Don’t hole up in your room. Spend time with the family.”

  “Don’t drum on the table.”

  “Don’t slump in your chair.”

  “Don’t stay on the phone all night. Finish your homework.”

  “Don’t stay online all night. Finish your homework.”

  “For once, say okay when I ask you to do something.”

  “For once, answer me when I ask you what’s wrong.”

  “Don’t use up all the hot water for your shower.”

  “Don’t forget to put your retainer on your teeth before you go to bed.”

  “Don’t stay up late. You’ll be exhausted in the morning.”

  “I’m exhausted just listening to this,” Laura commented. “No wonder I’m so worn out by the end of the day.”

  “And it never lets up,” a woman named Gail added. “I’m always after my boys—pushing, prodding, poking at them to get this done and that done. And it’s been worse since my divorce. Sometimes I feel like a drill sergeant.”

  “I have another take on it,” Michael said. “I think you’re being a responsible parent. You’re on the job, doing what a parent is supposed to be doing.”

  “So how come,” Gail asked ruefully, “my kids don’t do what they’re supposed to be doing?”

  “What my daughter thinks she’s supposed to be doing,”
said Laura, “is give her mother a hard time. She’ll argue with me over the least little thing. I’ll say, ‘Please take your dirty dishes out of your room,’ and she’ll say, ‘Quit bugging me. You’re always on my case.’”

  There were murmurs of recognition from the group.

  “So with teenagers,” I said, “sometimes even the simplest, most reasonable request can trigger a short argument or a long battle. To get a better understanding of our kids’ point of view, let’s put ourselves in their shoes. Let’s see how we’d react to some of the typical methods that are used to get teenagers to do what we want them to do. Suppose I play your parent. As you listen to me with your ‘adolescent ears,’ please call out your immediate, uncensored, visceral response.”

  Here are the different approaches I demonstrated, and here’s how “my kids” reacted:

  Blaming and accusing: “You did it again! You put oil in the pan, turned the burner on high, and left the room. What is wrong with you? You could’ve started a fire!”

  “Stop yelling at me.”

  “I wasn’t gone that long.”

  “I had to go to the bathroom.”

  Name-calling: “How could you forget to lock your brand-new bike? That was just plain stupid. No wonder it was stolen. I can’t believe you could be so irresponsible!”

  “I am stupid.”

  “I am irresponsible.”

  “I never do anything right.”

  Threats: “If you don’t think it’s important enough to do your chores, then I don’t think it’s important enough to give you your allowance.”

  “Bitch!”

  “I hate you.”

  “I’ll be glad when I’m out of this house.”

  Orders: “I want you to turn off the television and start your homework. Stop stalling. Do it now!”