In the midst of a rather tense week at home, one of my sons found himself in a bit of trouble at school. He was suspended for the remainder of the day after engaging in some mischief with his friends. Being part of a lively friend circle, his teachers had started to express concerns about their behavior. When recounting a tale of your child’s misbehavior, there is often an instinctual urge to immediately jump to their defense. It almost feels like a reflex action, akin to the superhuman strength parents are said to possess when it comes to protecting their children. However, I’ll reserve my justifications and explanations for my group chats. The crux of the matter is that he erred, and as parents, we had to enforce consequences. (He granted permission for this article under the condition that I omit specific details.)
Consequences aren’t something we have had to deal with frequently. It’s not because we are against disciplinary actions in principle, but rather due to our good fortune: our kids have generally been cooperative. A simple, exasperated “PLEASE stop doing that” usually does the trick to some extent.
Personally, I have had minimal encounters with the principal’s office. My last visit dates back to fifth grade when I landed in trouble for hurling an insult at a fellow student on the school bus. “Hippie cocksucker” was the derogatory term I had picked up just moments earlier while en route to the bus stop. We had come across an abandoned car blocking the road, stuck in the mud from the night before. The parent on carpool duty that day muttered the insult, and it somehow resonated with me. Apart from that memorable incident, my behavioral record remained unblemished throughout the rest of my school years.
Navigating this territory was unfamiliar to me. On the other hand, my husband was no stranger to such situations: he was “not invited back” to junior high and got expelled from high school mere weeks before graduation. Every college acceptance he had secured was retracted. It’s safe to say that his high school transgressions altered the course of his life. (Nevertheless, he is now a professor.)
The day following our son’s suspension, we were summoned to meet with the vice-principal before school. En route, it felt like all three of us were facing some form of reprimand. My husband and I had already discussed our approach, agreeing that we didn’t want to jeopardize our strong relationship with our son. However, we also didn’t want to appear as pushovers. We decided he would be staying home all weekend — no friends, no plans. Yet, we were keen on avoiding a prison-like atmosphere. How does a nonauthoritarian parent assert their authority effectively?
Inside the vice-principal’s office, it felt reminiscent of an ‘80s high school movie, a common aesthetic in public school administrative spaces. As I’ve mentioned previously, feeling like a bona fide adult can be challenging at the best of times, let alone in such situations. There seemed to be a void at the core of our discussion, around which our conversation revolved. That absence, to me, represented where other parents might instill a fear of authority in their child. We had not.
During the briefing on our son’s transgressions, my husband interjected at one point, advocating for our son and questioning the shared responsibility among other students. I felt a twinge of discomfort — we were there to acknowledge our faults, not to defend ourselves! However, later, our son expressed gratitude towards him. It dawned on me that it was a strategic move to remind our son whose side we were on.
On the journey back home, I oscillated between wanting to reprimand and seeking to reassure. My stance was unclear, a sensation I wasn’t accustomed to. I admire parents who skillfully mete out discipline, but I lack full confidence in my ability to exercise such authority without appearing capricious and unjust. It’s effortless for me to envision myself through my son’s eyes. This might be one of those scenarios where overthinking proves to be counterproductive, a path I, unfortunately, cannot take. It was draining, to say the least. I felt an overwhelming urge to recline and shut my eyes.
That evening, while all of us were at home, we decided to commemorate the occasion by watching The Breakfast Club, a quintessential film on school detention. It had been years since I last watched it in high school, and there were nuances I hadn’t picked up on initially — or perhaps had overlooked back then. (For those unfamiliar, the movie unfolds during a day-long Saturday detention — a practice that seems outdated. Five students from diverse cliques discover that they share more similarities than differences. It’s a captivating watch, although certain aspects may not have aged gracefully.)
One aspect that stood out to me was the collective disdain the group harbored towards their parents. The parents depicted in the film are portrayed as cruel, abusive hypocrites who project their personal flaws and insecurities onto their children. The Breakfast Club adolescents unanimously believe that rebelling against their parents would lead to improved and happier lives. Through this defiance, they forge bonds and the film conveys a message of hope.
This message resonates differently today. The parents I know prioritize nurturing a loving bond with their children. This ethos underpins much of today’s prevalent parenting guidance, beginning from early childhood. Major parenting authorities emphasize the significance of fostering emotional security in children on par with their physical safety. For many parents, including myself, being despised by one’s children would be a significant indictment of character. But what if the child’s perception is flawed?
It seems I’ve transitioned into a phase where I contemplate justice for the parents in The Breakfast Club, a testament to my evolving perspective. I found myself pondering what these characters would have prioritized if questioned. Presumably, ensuring their children mature into industrious, self-reliant adults, which seems reasonable. Nevertheless, there must be a way to instill structure and respect for authority in children while upholding their trust.
During my son’s grounding, we enjoyed a pleasant weekend at home with fewer distractions. Leading up to his suspension, I may have erred by loosening my grip on the parental reins in recent months. I take pride in my son’s burgeoning independence, and I have relished the freedom that comes with my children’s reduced dependency. However, it pains me to admit that the early teenage years are not the time to relinquish control. They do not require less parenting as they grow older; perhaps, they require more.