8-29-02 Side Streets, Kimra Traynor Herb
Learning Teenage Sons from TV
By Kimra Traynor Herb
IPS Features
I saw a program
on The Learning Channel (my source for all entertainment and knowledge these
days) about teenagers. A three hour program; the show devoted itself first to
teenage girls (thankfully not a concern for me), next to teenage boys (I was
riveted to the set) and finally, the combustion which occurs when the two are
thrown together. Having never been a teenaged boy myself, I was really anxious
to tune in to that particular hour devoted to the boys to learn what makes my
two teenaged sons tick. The commercials promised that I would "learn
everything there is to know about the teenaged species" if I watched the
program. Naturally, I was anxious to tune in-- I had spent my teenaged years
pretty much manipulating and using the boys for my various needs which included:
transportation (they didn't mind driving me home from band), food (they seemed
ever so willing to part with their hard earned bucks, just for a smile) and
homework assistance. (I was never too good at math). So, imagine my surprise
(not) all these years later when I tuned into the show and learned that the
reason those boys had been so easy to manipulate was quite simply this: teenaged
boys have no minds.
According to The
Learning Channel, at about the age of 13, testosterone in monstrous amounts
floods the brain and body and basically renders the poor young male victim
brain-dead. Or essentially so. The show followed four boys through two solid
years of puberty and we, the appreciating viewers, watched as they went from
ordinary, pleasant boys to well..... teenaged boys.
I have a couple
of them around the home here and find that as a mother, I am very
unlikely to be able to manipulate them, even to the simplest tasks. My oldest
son, who just turned fifteen, is finding life to be quite the chore these days.
Never mind that he is in all honors courses, sailed through his first attempt at
the ACT, and an aptitude for math and science which makes my brain hurt just
thinking about it; he has it tough. Way tough. Yesterday, get this- he actually
had to go to school. Yep, that's right, all day! And to add insult to injury, he
had band practice after school! Imagine! And the band director yelled at them!
Horrendous! When I picked him up from band to take him to soccer practice, he
looked at the sandwich and drink I brought.
"What?
Nothing canned?" He gave me a sour look. "What am I supposed to
drink?”
"It's this
amazing beverage," I said, offering him the bottle, "called
water." (Now I know that it does no good to be sarcastic with the boy, but
really, now, he was being quite the spoiled baby brat.) He managed to choke down
my meager offerings, which was really just a snack (I still had to go to my
middle son's open house and then rush home and make dinner), even though,
"it wasn't much to eat."
Sheesh.
According to the special, this teenaged overabundance of testosterone and lack
of brain power will last until they are eighteen years (or so) of age. I am
hoping for an early release for good behavior. (On my part).
This morning, my
thirteen year old had to rise early to do his Algebra assignment that the
aforementioned soccer practice and open house had pre-empted last evening. In
the past, this child has been up with the chickens and twice as loud. Here
lately (right on schedule, according to the show) I have been pretty much having
to put an atom bomb under his bed to blast him out of it in the mornings. He
finished his homework, put it in his backpack, and got on the bus. I wasn't
really dwelling on his wardrobe or anything until I got a load of the two shoes
sitting under the bar. One VERY old, dirty tennis shoe from last year, and one
bright, white brand new shoe from this year. What were the chances???? I quickly
looked in his closet and saw that his brown shoes and his sandals were in place
which could only mean that my son was roaming the halls of his middle school
with two vastly different shoes on his feet. I rushed the other shoe to the
school, noting the fear on my son's face when he was called to the office. Still
clueless (apparently the testosterone rush has begun) as to my sudden appearance
at his school, he looked at me questionably. I held up the other clean shoe and
he looked, stricken, at his feet. Luckily for him, none of the other brain-dead
boys in his class had noticed either that he had on two different shoes, so he
was able to change and scurry back to class.
I guess I didn't
need a special on television to tell me what I already knew: my boys are
becoming young men, and the process ain't gonna be purdy. Still, it is helpful
to know that as they traverse the halls of their schools in their unmatching
shoes and their bad attitudes, they will not be alone- all their males peers
will be right there with them.