He said to me the other day, “Mom, I don’t get it. Sometimes you’re totally chill, and then sometimes you want to know everything. You need to trust me. I’m not crazy, you know.”

That one got me thinking. Am I that inconsistent? Or is he just smart enough to see what’s really going on beneath the surface?

Parenting is sort of like going to battle without a plan. We start off as new parents overjoyed with the idea of life ahead, and for the most part, joy is the overriding emotion of my parenting experience.

And then life happens. Infants turn into toddlers, then third graders, thirteen year olds, and suddenly the teenage years smack us over the head when we weren’t looking. The skirmishes begin in full force.

Let the parenting battle begin-and parents, you’d better be ready.

Some days the plan of attack is subtle, but not without strife, to be sure. Get your homework done before video games, complete your chore list without complaining, and study for finals. That’s the easy stuff.

It’s the harder issues that lead to full engagement, wondering if a ceasefire will ever be possible. The ones that leave you with the ache in your gut. The ones that make you dive for the parenting handbook and leave you breathless with worry. The ones that you just need to ride out and trust that things will work themselves out.

Yesterday’s choice wasn’t one of those legendary philosophical decisions. For many people it would have been quite simple. It was normal kid stuff, things that maybe some parents don’t even blink at. But I do.

It really was about teenage decision making – trusting that his frontal lobe was keeping up with his intelligence. This is something I’ve been taking into consideration this year, now that he’s 15 and full of confidence.

Last summer, I had finally come to a place where I felt ok with him living away from home. I felt comfortable with his community, with his coaches, and with his friends. I felt like he was on a strong, health path. He was young – but he knew what he wanted.

Then came the phone call last August, when he broke his leg and I changed my ‘chill’ attitude. Suddenly, he was vulnerable again, and I fell into mamawolfe mode and all the doubts, the ‘proof’ that ‘things happen’, and now I’m caught in the mental battle of how far to let him go, how do I trust that he will be safe.

Watching the news sure doesn’t help – just last night I reminded him that if we listen to the stories, none of us should walk out of our house, light a firework or travel to a big city for the 4th of July.

Terrifying, if you think about it too hard. Terrifying to think about the battles going on in our world, let alone within the mind of a teenage boy full of hormones.

And this is where my angst set in, where I struggled with the parenting battle lines. What do you stand up for, what do you let slide? When do we trust that all those years of hand holding and teaching and boundaries pay off in their solid decision making? Where does the intersection of our own fears and our common sense lead us, when we come to a four-way stop and need to decide what is best for our child?

When do we let our kids just be kids, and push away all the fears – rational or irrational – and trust that everything will just be OK?

This is perhaps one of the most formidable parts about parenting – the struggle between throwing down the gauntlet, honoring the change in our children, recognizing the growth they’ve made from preschool to high school, and taking that deep breath, holding it for just a second, and releasing it with a quiet, “yes”.

Because when you think about it, the most indomitable parenting battles are really within ourselves, aren’t they?

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

More Posts - Website

Follow Me:

It was a perfect blue sky day. We hit the road early (by teenage terms), and just about 90 minutes later found us in Pt. Reyes, California, ready for adventure.

It had taken some cajoling to get both of them to agree to go hiking with me; these days, getting both kids alone, together, is certainly cause for celebration in itself. It’s one of the things I miss most about them growing up, actually. The time I took for granted when they were little, time to just be together and hold their hands and explore somewhere new – all that isn’t as easily had as before.

Sunscreen applied, water bottles and snacks in our packs, we headed down the trail towards the coast. Everywhere we looked vibrant wildflowers dotted our view, and lush ferns and berry bushes obscured each side of our narrow trail. The hawks flew overhead, and the sounds of songbirds filled the air. It truly couldn’t have been more beautiful.

Stopping to smell the wild sweet peas and snap a few photos, I found myself alone on the trail, lagging far behind my lanky-legged teenagers. Quickening my pace, I caught up just enough to catch a glimpse of them from behind. I’ve always loved the photos of them like this, when they’re not expecting me and in that instant, I imagine all the life they have before them.I’m sure even the hawks could see the joy etched in my face on this glorious day; glimpsing over their shoulders I could just catch the shimmer of the Pacific Ocean in the distance. “Turn around, let me take your picture,” I quickly called, worried they would be gone before I caught up. Surprisingly, they obliged, and as I got closer I added,”Let’s take a selfie.”

I’m sure the hawks could hear their groans of disgust, too.

“No Mom – no selfies,” their voices replied in unison as they took off along the trail without me.

What? No selfie? How would we ever remember we were there together? How would they look back on this day and remember I was even there at all? 

I’ve often thought the invention of the selfie is genius – the one way moms are guaranteed to be in the picture! How many moments have I been behind the camera instead of in front of it? What do they mean, no selfie?

Kicking into gear to catch up, I spent the next five minutes being schooled on the three awesome reasons to have a selfie-free summer – according to my teenagers:

1. “Selfies are stupid,” they began. “They’re not as good as pictures someone else takes and everyone knows it was a selfie. Everyone knows you know you took a dozen shots until you got the right one, and that you stood there forever while the phone was angled in just the right position. Haven’t you seen those selfie-sticks, Mom? Those people look so lame waving them over everyone’s head, and then they have to carry them around.”

Hmmm. Good point. How many times have I been looking out at a gorgeous view when someone suddenly jumps in front of me, spends minutes posing, snapping, checking, posing, snapping, checking…

2. “Selfies are for Snapchat, and that’s about it. They’re not meant to be saved…they’re meant to be silly.  How many times have you seen selfies where people look like they’ve spent hours perfecting their pose? Like they’ve spent hours in front of the bathroom mirror perfecting their pout or messing around with the right filters?”

Ok-agreed. As much as I dislike Snapchat (I can’t stand only seeing an image for seven seconds; heck, it takes me that long to find my glasses!), I really dislike the Instagram selfies of people staring into their bathroom mirrors, perfectly made up and serious supermodel looks on their faces.

3. “Selfies make you miss the moment. Just look, Mom. You’re concentrating so hard on getting the right shot, you’ll miss all this.”

I get it. Isn’t that what I preach to them every day? Pay attention to the little things in life. Be present. Be grateful. Look out for the extraordinary in the ordinary. Use your voice – ask someone to help you take a photo instead of staying trapped inside yourself. Look up, breathe, throw your arms open wide and take it all in. This is your moment.

Suitably schooled, I resumed my position at the back of the pack, far enough behind to think. They’re so grown, I thought, and I’ve still got so much to learn. I’m just going to let them lead the way for awhile.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

More Posts - Website

Follow Me:

It’s always a minimum day schedule on the last day of school, making it super hard to get anything done (yes, they want us to teach up until the last bell), as well as to have a moment to breathe, to be present, to process what is going on.

The last day of school is about both endings and beginnings. It’s a celebration and a sniffle of what we’re leaving behind. It’s more than just hurry up, get inside, close the door, sign yearbooks and you’re off.

For me, the end of the school year is bittersweet. Even after 25 years of teaching middle school, I still have yet to leave the last day dry-eyed.

My classroom starts to feel like my home away from home, I guess.

Some years it’s worse than others. I’ve had years where the tears flowed from before the first bell even rang, until long after the kids (or most of them) left for their summer vacation.

This year was both usual and unusual.

This year the tears started at home, in my bathroom, when my friend Estherlyn texted me this photo of our boys at the end of 6th grade:

They were full of excitement, ready to tackle the adventure of ‘junior high’ for the next three years.

And now, three years later, my tears came as I thought of all the happiness, disappointment, joy, laughter and growth they’ve experienced. I thought of the classes and report cards and homework, the basketball games, the sleepovers and dances and the lunches in my room. I thought about how they’ve managed to stay close, and how much I would miss their faces next September.

And I thought of how they’ve grown in to young men and are so ready for 10th grade.

Not a great way to start a frantic day of goodbyes and thank yous.

I made it through most of my classes-they moved too fast to allow myself to sink into sadness. We had papers to collect, “The Diary of Anne Frank” to finish watching (yes, I do end the year with the Holocaust-but remember, Anne says, “No matter what, I still believe people are good at heart.” It’s uplifting, really).

I made it through the start of each class, thanking them for this community and for doing their best. I reminded my ‘kids’ of how hard they’ve worked, how their struggles have turned them into strong thinkers and readers and writers, and assured them that they were well prepared and ready for high school.

I think they believed me. I meant every word I said.

Except they don’t know the real reason I show a sad movie on the last day is another teacher trick for hiding my tears.

I received some beautiful notes and thank yous, some cookies and  gift cards and hugs. I could feel the tears right there, but I was holding it together. Bell rings, we talk, we watch, bell rings, they go. It’s like a well oiled machine.

And then the last period of the day was upon me, my struggling readers who I’ve encouraged and cheered and danced with (can you do the nae-nae? I can!) and  read with and tried to help them get to grade level. These kids hold such a special place in my heart. The tears are close…but in this class, we must celebrate! Cue Selena and dance!

And then suddenly the 9th graders started streaming in from the room across the hall. Kids I’d known since kindergarten, when their hair was neatly combed and backpacks proudly balanced on their shoulders. Kids that had spent the last three years eating lunch in my room, loving having a place to call ‘home’.

They handed me a thank you card, and I made the mistake of opening it in front of them. You see, when teachers don’t open gifts in front of their students there’s a reason – it makes them cry. And it’s usually an ugly cry, and the kids usually don’t know what to do.

Cue ugly cry.

The card said ‘thanks for always letting us stay in your room (or at your house)’ and ‘you’re like a second mom to me’ and ‘without you our lunches wouldn’t have been nowhere near as great as they were’.

I honestly had no idea it meant so much to them.

And somewhere in there the last bell rang, we watched them stream out into summer and I closed the door on the last day of school. The quiet was eerie. The room was a mess. I breathed deeply.

And the door burst open.

A line of 11 gangly, sweaty, smiling 9th graders entered one by one, big arms wrapping around me. The tears streamed all over again with loose abandon. There was no card or cookies, just huge, grateful smiles covering up a bit of nervousness, as one by one they piled in and said thanks, my son at the end of the line.

“Thanks for having such great friends, Cam,” I whispered as he hugged me, his head towering over mine.

The next thing I knew it was lollipops and selfies and sharing moments from the last three years.

They didn’t leave. I didn’t want them to leave. None of us quite knew what to do. I wondered if they knew how much they mean to me – how much joy they brought when they were tiny little 7th graders watching the big kids with wonder in their eyes. Do they know the joy I felt when Cam was away at boarding school in 8th grade, and they still came to my room every day? I wonder if they felt the gratitude I had each lunchtime when they would flop their big 9th grade bodies on my beanbags, pull out their food and homework and Tech Decks and just be themselves?

And suddenly, the hugs started again. The tears, the smiles, the joy oozing up from inside.

The last day of school isn’t only the final day of classes – it’s the final day of this community, this place of being together. This home away from home.

This is why I teach. This is why I’ll be back again next year.

This is why they call me mamawolfe.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

More Posts - Website

Follow Me:

How many of us parents lead by example? I mean, completely. Honestly. All the time?

Think back to when your kids were toddlers. Everything we did we wanted them to mimic – the words we said, the foods we ate, and the funny ways they saw us dance or jump of sing along to Dora the Explorer songs.

When our kids watched us read picture books aloud, we burst out with glee when their chubby fingers pointed to an image and sounded out the word. When my three year old sang along to Bob The Builder with me, I knew something good was happening.

We were bonding, developing trust and confidence that our children would follow our lead, and that they knew we would always, always do what’s best.

So now they’re teenagers. They’re getting driver’s permits, moving from the relative safety of bikes and skateboards to operating thousands of pounds of machinery – machines that can kill with a slip of attention, with a lapse in decision making or a caving in to peer pressure.

And don’t think for a minute they’re not watching you – closely.

It starts somewhere in their early teen years when they start noticing how fast you turn the wheel, or when they call out your speed and remind you you’re going too fast. They know when you really didn’t completely stop at the stop sign, and they hear you curse the driver in front of you.

And they watch you when you’ve had that glass of wine and slip behind the wheel, sure that you’re ‘ok to drive’. They see you pick up your cell phone for a quick call or text.

And guess what happens next? They do exactly like you do – because you’ve trained them that way.

We need to lead by example.

Watching my tiny 15-year-old daughter command her first car was terrifying. In that moment, I felt a complete loss of control, an inability to protect her. She was cautious, careful and probably more terrified than I. Intellectually, I knew this was a completely normal rite of passage, and that with practice, she would be a terrific driver. I was acutely conscious of every sharp intake of breath, every time I gripped the arm rest in panic, and I found myself mimicking her as she merged into freeway traffic or turned right near a bike lane.

Four years later she’s a competent driver. Heck, she even passed her CDL test and drives a school bus full of kids for her summer job! And now that she’s living in the mountains and commuting from her college up to the ski hill, I have new worries and a budding sense of fear that somehow my careful, cautious 15-year-old has become too confident. Complacent. Just full of enough experience to get a bit too comfortable – and that’s when the problems start.

I don’t want her to become a statistic. I don’t want her to become one of the 3,000 teenage drivers that dies in an auto accident each year.

I want to lead by example.

So yesterday we spent the afternoon at Ford Motor Company’s “Driving Skills For Life” event, practicing making mistakes and learning how to correct them. This international program is not teaching the kids HOW to drive, but teaching them what to do WHEN they’re driving. It focuses on two main driving skills – over steering and target fixation – while offering real examples of the dangers of impaired and distracted driving. And it’s FREE.

Our first session found her behind the wheel of a 2015 Mustang, a professional race car driver/instructor by her side, as she learned what a car feels like when over steering sends it into a spin. I’ll admit – it was awesome seeing my girl behind the wheel, taking control of the car:

Next, she went to the hazard recognition/accident avoidance simulation, where she measured her ability to react to obstacles and changes in the road. I’d say she nailed it:

She also practiced her response time on a simulation machine – including the difference while texting on her cell phone.

The third rotation was on speed and space management. It was eye-opening to watch how she reacted to distractions in the road – and from the back seat drivers asking for more a/c, a different radio station, and to ‘watch out!’ for hazards. The instructor insisted the drive while holding and using her cell phone so she could feel the difference in her ability to handle the car. I had flashbacks to crying children in the back seat…same distraction that in an instant can impair our ability to stop and avoid hazards.

Finally, we wound up at the impaired and distracted driving simulation. Driving a new Ford Escape with a CHP officer in the passenger seat, she wore two types of goggles – first ones that simulated driving at an intoxication level of .07-1.0, and then another set that mimicked driving at 2.0 or above. All I can say is WOW-did it make me feel carsick riding in the back seat!  I also learned that anyone can be arrested for being under the influence of ANY substance that impairs their ability to drive – including cold medicines, cough syrup, and caffeine!

Before we left, we spent at least an hour chatting with the road officers about the intricacies of DUI and impaired driving. We watched a simulated DUI test, and learned that studies have shown that a person arrested for DUI has driven under the influence 350 times prior to their arrest. Frightening statistics, isn’t it?

I don’t want my children to be a statistic. When I asked the officers why they were involved with the Driving Skills For Life program, one responded quite matter-of-factly: “I got tired of scraping up teenage body parts off the road”.

If that doesn’t make you want to lead by example, I don’t know what would.

Parents, do right by your children. Follow the road rules. Don’t drink and drive. Put down your phone, pay attention and be present.

And make tracks to the Ford Driving Skills For Life event in your area. Visit their website and Facebook page and find out how you can take advantage of this free program.

Lead by example. Keep your kid from being another statistic.

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

More Posts - Website

Follow Me:

The photo jumped out of my Facebook feed during my lunch break today. The beautiful woman, not the headline, caught my eye; she looked like someone famous, but I couldn’t quite place her. Then I realized who I was looking at: Caitlin Jenner.

I quickly scanned my middle school classroom for someone to share it with, someone who would care. The 9th graders scarfing down their lunches and talking sports and summer? The 8th grader taking a vocabulary test? I settled on my 20-something intern, who casually replied, “Oh yeah – I saw that. She’s gorgeous. Wow.”

I smiled, and went back to my salad.

Within minutes, it was all over social media. SHE was all over social media, in all her courageous, vulnerable, breathtaking silk-bodysuit clad natural beauty.

Scanning the news feeds, I was struck by my friend Loran Lewis Wyman’s Facebook posting – above the headline she wrote, “I’m wowed by the courage to do this. Awed by the transformation our world is making so that everyone can feel accepted. Inspired by an ongoing and deeper pursuit of realness. And invigorated by the always amazing flow of information – through the eyes of a brilliant photographer, an exclusive press article and cover, and via electrically charged digital media sharing the story across the globe like water running down a mountain in rivulets.”

Wow.

All I could add to that was “And hopeful that the children who have experienced ridicule and hate because they feel “different” will grow up in a world where being “different” is celebrated!”

Because that’s how I think. That’s my world – kids. That’s my barometer of life, how the world is changing and how I wish the rest of the world would catch up.

I look out at my students and marvel at their courage every day. I have kids who struggle with the everyday challenges of life: what to wear, how to style their hair, how to balance sports and school. They struggle with their parents and puberty, with grades and goals and getting into (and out of) relationships. They worry about being ‘different’ and about being alone or going along with the group.

And yes, they struggle with their gender identity and with their sexuality, sometimes before they even know what they’re struggling about.

So as I sat with my salad and thought about the kids in my room, I smiled. I didn’t have to show these kids her photo – they wouldn’t be phased by it. They’re growing up in a time where being different is no longer as taboo as it was in my generation. They’re growing up in a community that celebrates diversity, in a school that embraces children for how they treat each other, not how they look or who they love.

My heart filled with hope – hope that if one of those kids eating their lunch and playing with their Tech Decks – if one of them is growing up feeling “different”, that maybe our world is changing just fast enough that they won’t have to wait until they’re sixty-five years old and panicked that, in the words of Caitlyn Jenner, “If I was lying on my deathbed and I had kept this secret and never ever did anything about it, I would be lying there saying, ‘You just blew your entire life. You never dealt with yourself,’ and I don’t want that to happen.”

Congratulations, Caitlyn. Thanks for introducing yourself to the world. Thanks for living your true self. Thanks for showing us that being ‘different’ is beautiful.
Photo credit: Poppy – I am so different via photopin (license)

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

More Posts - Website

Follow Me: