This week it was back to school. These days I dread it almost as much as my boys do, especially the January return to school, when the mornings are dark and cold and there is nothing to look forward to.
I realised some time ago that I do not understand teenage boys. I don’t know why I ever expected I would – understand them that is. I have no experience of them, after all. I had no brothers and I was never a teenage boy myself. My partner obviously was, but he has turned into his father – his lack of understanding of his sons is that of most parents towards their offspring – they are of a different generation, their values are different, their perception of the world and their position within it is full of hope and the naivety of youth, whereas ours is tarnished with the disappointments and harsh realities of life. Armed with the knowledge of our mistakes, we are determined to prevent our children following in those footsteps, but of course we are powerless to stop them.
So, back to school … well, at least they went back and then the bugs started returning so they were off again immediately! We did manage one parents’ evening, which could have been worse. Moving in the right direction is the message, although he needs to press the accelerator pedal a bit harder.
But returning to not understanding teenage boys, my biggest problem is that I’m not sure my boys have worked out the connection between achieving high and working hard. My eldest in particular (he is 15), seems to have little comprehension even of what he needs to do in order to pass his GCSEs. Whereas I would aim for the top, understanding I will drop ‘x’ number of points along the way and hopefully still get a good result, he aims for a pass and doesn’t think about what happens when he drops those inevitable points along the way and fails. And of course, at the ripe old age of 15 he knows everything there is to know and I know nothing, so whatever I say doesn’t even go in one ear before it is discarded on the pile of ‘useless information in the world according to parents’.
As I said, I don’t understand teenage boys. Is this symptomatic of teenage boys alone or teenagers in general? Or maybe it’s not linked to being a teenager at all, maybe it’s just in the genes and he’s got the lazy variety? Answers on a postcard please …
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