My oldest son, Connor, has just started his senior year at Manning High School. Well, sort of.
Between the COVID years and bouncing back and forth between my house and his dad’s, his transcripts were a mess and he is technically a junior. But this is the year he is supposed to graduate, and his guidance counselor and I have developed a very strategic plan to get him across that stage next spring.
That is, of course, if he puts in the work.
Motivating teenagers is unrelentingly hard, especially when they already have one foot out the door. They want the freedom that comes with adulthood, but sometimes still need to be reminded that assignments have deadlines and alarms must actually be set before they can wake you up.
Connor also got his driver’s license this summer, which is a whole other Big Thing™ I have to navigate while he becomes comfortable and confident on the road.
And yes. Yes, I have considered crowdsourcing for my car insurance increase. Let me know if you’re feeling generous.
On the first day of school, I dropped him off and watched him walk away. For a moment, I pictured the little boy whose backpack looked much too big for his tiny frame. After school, he would power walk as quickly as his little legs could carry him toward my car. He would wave excitedly as soon as he saw me, climb inside breathlessly and immediately begin telling me about his day.
Now, he walks away from the car without looking back.
I know that is what he is supposed to do. Senior year — or sort-of senior year — is about preparing our children to walk away from us. Our job is to make sure they know they can always come back.
That is a heavy bit of parental responsibility, so I may or may not have desperately Googled “how to parent a high school senior” before the first day of school.
Hey, we listen and we don’t judge. That is another thing I learned on the internet.
According to my search, parents navigating this final year should listen more than they lecture. Let them talk about their stress, fears and plans without immediately trying to solve every problem. Allow them to take ownership of college applications, job searches or whatever path they choose after high school.
Apparently, repeatedly asking, “Have you done your schoolwork?” while your voice gets shriller and shriller does not count as letting them take ownership. I am still working on that one.
We are also supposed to teach them practical skills. They need to know how to do laundry, cook a few meals, manage money, keep up with deadlines and wake themselves up. We need to have honest conversations about mental health, safe driving, consent and substance use – all the frightening parts of the world we cannot protect them from forever.
We should also remind them that one bad grade, disappointing test score or rejection letter will not determine the rest of their lives. At the same time, we have to encourage them to finish strong, even when senioritis arrives before the first-semester report cards.
But this one is straight from me: the most important advice is to enjoy them.
Senior year cannot be only about grades, applications, deadlines and what comes next. There should still be dinners, inside jokes, family traditions and ordinary evenings on the couch.
Connor still seems to like hanging out with me – for the most part. He tells me about budding friendships and the classmates who annoy him. He sends me sarcastic memes about mothers accompanied by a “this is you” text. We are currently engaged in a very serious Ted Lasso binge together.
I know the little boy with the oversized backpack is still in there somewhere. But the young man walking away from my car deserves the space to figure out who he is becoming.
So, while Connor works toward a cap and gown, I will be doing some growing of my own – learning when to push, when to listen and when to simply sit beside him for one more episode. After all, he isn’t the only one figuring out what comes next.
