Your Teenager Isn't a Problem to Solve

I've been thinking a lot about teenagers lately.

Granted, I run a school full of them now, so this isn't exactly surprising.

But I recently listened to two episodes of The Oprah Podcast (I listen to an embarrassing amount of podcasts) featuring Dr. Shefali Tsabary, author of The Conscious Parent. The conversations were about raising daughters and sons, but what stayed with me wasn't really about either.

It was about teenagers.

And it brought me back to something I've believed for a very long time:

Our teenagers aren't problems to solve. They're people to know.

I've spent more than 30 years working with children and families. I've also raised three daughters of my own. And just to clear something up right away: spending decades teaching other people about parenting does not mean I executed every parenting moment beautifully myself. Not. Even. Close. (My daughters could provide references.)

What it has given me is a philosophy that has remained pretty consistent over the years: relationship matters. Children deserve dignity. Behavior communicates something. And our job isn't to produce perfectly obedient children.

It's to help young people become capable humans.

Teenagers make that last part especially interesting.

The world changed. Teenagers didn't get the memo either.

There are plenty of statistics telling us young people are struggling. One that stopped me, and might surprise you, as well: in the CDC's 2023 Youth Risk Behavior Survey, 40% of high school students reported persistent feelings of sadness or hopelessness.

Forty percent.

I could give you more numbers, but I don't want this to become a post about statistics. Because we don't parent statistics. We parent people. People who leave dishes in their bedrooms, forget assignments they absolutely swear they turned in, laugh hysterically with friends five minutes after telling us their entire life is ruined, and answer our thoughtful question with: "I don't know." Teenagers. And they're growing up in a world we didn't.

We adults love a good "When I was your age..."

I have some bad news, friends. "When we were their age" doesn't exist anymore.

Most of us got to make our teenage mistakes in front of a handful of people. Our kids can make theirs in front of hundreds, or more. We went home from school and, for the most part, school stayed behind until the following day, or after the weekend.

In today's world, they carry their peers home in their pockets. The friendships. The conflict. The comparison. The person who didn't text back. The party they weren't invited to. The picture everyone else somehow looks perfect in.

Social media isn't inherently bad. It can offer creativity, connection, identity and community. But it has fundamentally changed adolescence.

We can't raise today's teenagers entirely with yesterday's tools. What we CAN do: give them somewhere they don't have to perform.

For years, I've taught parents that they can create a safe haven for their child, for their family, inside their very homes. And “safe” doesn't mean no rules, conflict, consequences or uncomfortable conversations. Children actually need boundaries and guidelines. They help them feel secure.

A safe haven means something different.

It's a place where a young person can be unapologetically themselves.

Where they're heard. Seen. Included. Where they don't just feel wanted, but needed - where they understand that their presence is part of what makes the family whole.

Does your teenager know:

I can tell them something they probably won't want to hear.

I can disagree with them.

I can mess up.

I can change my mind.

I can still be figuring out who I am without explanation.



And none of that threatens my place in this family.

Because the world already gives teenagers plenty of places where acceptance can feel conditional - grades, appearance, athletics, popularity, college admissions, friend groups, social media and those tiny little “likes” that somehow became a measurement of whether we're enough.

Home cannot be one more place where they have to audition for belonging.

That doesn't mean every behavior is acceptable or that there aren't consequences - natural or logical.

It means the person is never what's on trial.

Get curious about what's underneath. When something goes wrong, we adults tend to head straight for the behavior.

How do I get them to understand how serious this is?

Why won't they listen?

What's a consequence that will get them to truly reflect?

Sometimes we need those questions. But I don't think they're usually the first ones we need.

I want to know:

What's underneath this behavior?

The teenager who suddenly “doesn't care” about school might care. A lot. 

The one exploding over something completely "ridiculous" might not actually be upset about that exact thing.

The one shutting us out might desperately want connection and have absolutely no idea how to ask for it.

And here's the part that might be uncomfortable for US: sometimes we need to look underneath our own behavior, too.

Am I reacting to what's happening - or to my fear about where this could lead?

Am I guiding or controlling?

Am I actually listening, or am I waiting for them to stop talking so I can explain why I'm right?

It's painful to reflect sometimes.  I've been on both sides of that one. More than once. More than hundreds of times. Teenagers are going to make some spectacularly questionable decisions. It's practically in their job description.

But understanding what's underneath a behavior doesn't excuse it. We can understand and hold accountable.

Relationships are what make meaningful accountability possible.

And it's ok to rescue them. Sometimes.

One idea that I truly believe in is allowing young people to experience discomfort.

This is hard. We don't want them to fail, be embarrassed, get their heart broken, be disappointed or make the mistake we can see coming from ten miles away.

Especially when we've already warned them approximately 147 times that there is, in fact, a train coming down the tracks.

We want to MOVE THEM OUT OF THE WAY.

Sometimes we absolutely should. Especially if it involves a real train.

But sometimes we shouldn't.

Because disappointment teaches something. Failure teaches something. Hearing “no” (and just as importantly, the why behind it) teaches something. Natural consequences teach something. Figuring out what to do after you've messed something up teaches something.

Every obstacle we remove may also remove an opportunity for our teenager to discover: I can handle hard things. I'm capable. I can figure things out.

Which, inconveniently, they cannot discover while we're busy figuring everything out for them.

Our job isn't always to clear the road.

Sometimes it's to be close enough that they know they're not walking it alone.

Home, school, and somewhere to matter. This is where my parenting philosophy and my educational philosophy become almost impossible to separate.

I want young people to have a safe haven at home.

I want school to be one, too.

Not a place without expectations or consequences. Not a place where everything is easy.

A place where young people are known.

Where adults genuinely enjoy them.

Where they're given responsibility before they've proven they can execute it perfectly.

Where they get to create, question, contribute, screw something up, recover, try again - and affect the community around them.

That's what mattering means to me.

Not simply:

There's a place for me here.

But:

This place is different because I'm here.

That's what I want our students to experience at Lynnhaven. And I think it's something every teenager deserves to experience at home, too. I don't have a formula for raising teenagers.

After three decades of working with families and raising three daughters myself, I'm actually very suspicious of anyone who says they do.

Human beings are much too complicated and ever-evolving!

Also, teenagers have an uncanny ability to humble anyone who thinks they've finally figured them out.

But maybe we can get a little more curious.

The next time your teenager shuts down, pushes back, makes a choice you don't understand, or has a reaction that makes you think, Why are they acting like this? - maybe pause before trying to react or jumping to fix it.

Ask:

What's underneath this behavior?

And maybe ask yourself:

Am I listening to understand?

Am I reacting to my teenager - or to my own fear?

Do they need me to solve this, or do they need me to believe they can?

Have I made our relationship safe enough for them to tell me something that might be hard to hear?

Because adolescence isn't a problem we're supposed to solve for our children.

It's a season we're supposed to walk through with them. Not in front of them, clearing every obstacle. Not behind them, pushing them toward the person we think they should become.

Beside them.

Close enough to guide.

Far enough away to let them grow.

And making sure, through all of it, they know:

I see you. I hear you. You matter here. And I'm not going anywhere.