I sucked my thumb until I was 12 years old. I quit because I was getting braces to rein in my overbite and thumbsucking would have rendered the process moot.  It was shameful, knowing that my friends were getting their periods and I was still furtively sucking on my thumb every night to fall asleep. If not for the braces, the shame would have put a stop to it eventually.

My family knew, but I never admitted it to anyone else until after college. It was as if I’d passed through a magical threshold of adulthood that separated me from my childhood and buried any residual humiliation.  I was able to look back and laugh, cringing with a much lesser degree of embarrassment. Those Deep, Dark Secrets were no longer deep, dark, or even secrets at all.

It’s a liberating aspect of growing up. I can now freely recount the horribly embarrassing things I did in the name of love, such as obsessively visiting my friend who lived on the same street as my crush in seventh grade.  “Let’s take a walk down the street together,” I’d say. Of course, she wasn’t stupid, she knew my real intentions, but I  never owned up to it. I’d fantasize about all the ways he would ask me to be his girlfriend. I mooned over him in gym class, leaping inside for joy when we were paired in a tumbling exercise and we had to touch each other. I never said a word about my crush to my friends, and vehemently denied it a year later when they said they knew the entire time (how could they not? It was painfully obvious), but now, it’s fair game for laughs. Just like how my drunken kisses with Mike R. in front of my dorm freshman year were something I was prepared to deny to the death, but now my friends and I shriek with laughter when we gleefully recount that and all the other embarrassing missteps we took in college. Hell, I’d even tell my mom that story if she asked. Or maybe my future children will hear it as a cautionary tale.

There are two things that take something from the Super Secret Trove of Humiliation to the Files of Haha, There’s This Stupid Thing I Did, Isn’t that Funny?. The first is time.  It’s been twelve years since I was a college freshman. Almost twenty since I had braces. The humiliation has long since worn off, and I can safely separate those actions from the person I am now. That was me as a child, and now I am an adult.

Second, haven’t we all been there? At the time, it seems like a unique experience. But then you learn everyone else has those things they did too. If you haven’t gotten to thirty without a few embarrassing gems tucked away in your past, you haven’t lived. It’s a source of bonding, to know that your best friend once fantasized about Batman giving her her first kiss, or that your boyfriend religiously practiced Vanilla Ice’s dance moves to impress a girl in middle school. It’s humanizing to know people share similar heretofore unspeakable nuggets of humiliation in their lives, and that they laugh about them now too. It’s not stigmatizing when it happens to everyone.

This is not to say my life is completely humiliation-free as an adult. But at what point are those moments or actions going to become cocktail-party fodder or uproarious reminiscences with friends? Will last night’s thwarted attempt to flirt with the bartender suddenly become less embarrassing and more hilarious a year from now? Two? Or maybe, through the magic of the Internet, the next day?

Every way I turn this
it seems to have soft, half-rotten
spots, and I am afraid to cut them
away to see how much viable flesh is left.

How do I make you grasp something
I continually comprehend less and less?

It has squiggled away
somewhere like a worm exposed,
and as I try to pull it out by its end
it only breaks apart in my fingers
still wriggling.

I seem to find you unable,
if not unwilling, to relearn who I am,
and I keep seeing how little we have
in common. But most of all,
you remind me of the years I spent letting her
turn the core of my will to pulp
until I did not recognize my own skin.
I can only blame you for doing the nothing
I cannot forgive.

Today, my team read THE_MYTH_OF_THE_TEEN_BRAIN, an article by Harvard phD, Robert Epstein, who says the recent research on the immature teen brain and its necessary causal impact on behavior is, well, flat wrong.

He suggests that adolescent acting out is a function of societal and cultural influences and that the differences in brain anatomy between teen and adult brains is similarly the result of a society that “infantilizes” teenagers. His principle argument is that if the teen-brain phenomenon that has gained so much ground in the past few years in the US was truly a determining factor in teen “acting out”, then it would be consistent with teenagers everywhere, in every people group in the world.

It isn’t.

Only when western education and media make their appearance in pre-industrial societies (who may not even have a word for the period between childhood and adulthood) do teenagers begin acting out. He says, teen brains are better equipped to handle new information than most adult brains and that as a culture and society, we cripple most teens by limiting their freedom and potential to become adults.

Lastly, he says, when teens are isolated into peer groups/peer influence from the rest of society they shape themselves. In other words, teens in pre-industrial societies aren’t learning how to be independent from adults, they’re learning how to BECOME ADULTS by being around them.

Big implications (if he’s right) for youth ministry everywhere.

“Sometimes the point is too much to concentrate on, and people spend all their time looking for it, and they refuse to recognize that it’s right in front of their eyes.”

“Umm Sumayah wel hikam,” She piped; Sumayah’s mother and her wise words.

We agreed that she was right. Sarah hated to admit it but she knew what I was saying made perfect sense. Mom wasn’t random, she was serious about the things she said to me, I soaked them in not knowing their value or how strongly they would affect my transition into adulthood or help me skate over the thin ice of adolescence.

I stood there ironing my school shirt, watching the steam silently rising off the fabric as the iron smoothly slid across it. Sarah sat on my couch talking about something irrelevant to my concern at the moment. The iron hissed as I put it in its upright position, then switched to the left arm. We had agreed to skip first period to talk about the issues she was going through. I moved quickly because according to mom I needed to make it out of there on time, and I was adamant on making a show out of rushing through the front door.

The cold air and fog were familiar to us on school mornings, the street was filled with kids in uniform headed to school, some walking others in cars, taxis, or buses. At this point in my life I was in love with Cairo, and Egypt was the only place I had lived long enough to dare call home.

We walked against the crowd towards the park two blocks down. Sarah usually kept her sleeves rolled up. And like myself, her shirt was never tucked in, ties hanging around our necks, and our grey pleated skirts falling loosely to the ground. Except today she didn’t.

We stopped at the far end of the park and sat down at the passageway. I looked her in the eye but she intentionally avoided looking back.

“Ana mish tay’ah nafsi” I can’t stand myself.

Malik? What’s wrong?

I’ve just been depressed lately.

Over what?

She shrugged, and carefully rolled up her sleeves.

I’ve just been feeling bad lately. I don’t know.

My attention was drawn to the scabs on her left forearm. She had apparently been cut, repeatedly, with something sharp in vertical lines about 4 inches long.

Eh dah?! What is that?

to be continued.

The Lord has commanded parents and church elders to train up boys and young men to be what the Lord wants them to be when they reach true manhood. God anointed David, the son of Jesse the Bethlehemite, king of Israel when he was still in his teen years.

By looking at what kind of boy David was, we can get a good idea of what kind of young men we should be training boys to be.

Then answered one of the servants, and said, Behold, I have seen a son of Jesse the Bethlehemite, that is cunning in playing, and a mighty valiant man, and a man of war, and prudent in matters, and a comely person, and the LORD is with him.

I Samuel 16:18

The phrase “cunning in playing,” means that David had taken time to develop and hone the skills with which God had gifted him. We must encourage boys to commit themselves to practicing and exercising their God-given talents.

The phrase “a mighty valiant man” means that David was courageous in dangerous situations. We must not shelter our boys from situations where their courage will be tested.

The phrase “a man of war” refers to David’s willingness to stand and fight for what was right. We must impress upon our boys that there are things that are worth fighting for, and Christian men are to be meek, but never cowardly.

The phrase “prudent in matters,” means that David exercised wisdom. He did not behave foolishly or invite criticism by behaving childishly. He behaved appropriately for his age.

The phrase “a comely person,” refers largely to David’s physical appearance. He was thought to be handsome. We certainly can not train boys in their physical characteristics. God determines this through genetics and His Own providence. But we can certainly train boys to dress appropriately and groom themselves properly.

Conspicuously absent from the description of David in his teen years are any indications that he was involved in foolish vanities. David, if alive today, would not be involved in hanging out at the mall, or text messaging silly word-plays. He would not inappropriately play-wrestle with girls or young ladies. He would have little time for shuffling his iPod, playing laser tag, or shopping for spinning hubcaps. He would not over-pay for ripped-up, ill-fitting clothes, so he could slouch around with uncombed and unwashed hair, trying desperately to look “cool.”

When I was in high school, I created an alternate persona. My goal was to find a sense of belonging within my normal group of peers. I became a bulimic bleached-blonde with identity issues. It worked; I was in and very happy in that sphere.

Last year, at my youngest daughter’s school conference, the counselor addressed some of our issues regarding my teen’s suddenly changing appearance. My daughter went from bright colors to shades of grey and black. Her hair went from blonde to a chestnut brown to a deep auburn. The counselor said it wasn’t uncommon for teen girls to face an identity crisis as they made their way through the high school world.

I was actually moderate on the issue at that time, so much so we had a couple’s fight in the counselor’s office. He took aim at the vampire books I purchased for her. She read the entire series in the span of a week. She was awed; and I was impressed by her avid reading. The counselor loved the books and agreed with my views: books are merely an escape from the mundane, not the cause.

As of late, my son found some “cutting gloves” that belonged to my daughter; they were a recent gift from a new friend. She never harmed herself; instead, she wanted to “belong”. I was floored; my son was shocked as well. We called the family together.

When we discussed the intended purpose of the accessories was to cover up suicide attempt marks on the wrists, she smirked. That wasn’t her goal; instead, both she and a new friend wanted to “belong” within the group of vending-machine kids. Who?

My older teens and their friends explained to us that there is a “lost” crowd of kids that stands in the shadows, under the stairs, near the cafeteria. Everyone recognizes them as the “vending machine kids” and leaves them to their “emo” habits. Actually, it turns out that they are very artistic; and that creativity appealed to my daughter and her friend.

As I told the counselor, what amazes me is that as a youth, I went lighter and now my daughter is going darker. I wanted to belong in the mainstream group and my child seeks the fringe. The counselor smiled and said, “When I was a teen, I wanted my wild best friend’s Shirley Temple curls; because I thought I was too straight and narrow, too plain.” Girls always want what they’re not; she’ll grow out of it. By senior year, ninety percent of all of those freshman and sophomores at that vending machine will be worried about the formal wear they’ll wear to prom.

As a transitional stage of human development, adolescence is the period in which a child matures into an adult. Some describe adolescence as a period of “storm and stress”. It is stressful for the adolescent as well as the parents. Here’s how parents may overcome this stress.
Parents need to:
1. Be sure about their basic values and rules.
2. Support each other in applying them.
It is difficult for a teenager to respect parents who are always at loggerheads with each other. One parent should not to ally him/herself with the child against the other parent.
3. Listen
Adults should be available for advice, sympathy and comfort.
Don’t criticize or give routine advice.
4. Spend time on praising good decisions or behaviour.
5. Don’t use physical punishment. Do not create the impression that violence can solve problems.

6. Set an example
You are a role model for your child. If you don’t want them to be violent, don’t use violence yourself. If you want them to be kind and generous to other people , try to be like this yourself.
6. Stressful times come and go, but most adolescents don’t develop serious problems.
7. Constitutional homeopathic treatment given at adolescence would go a long way in preventing disease and maintaining the physical and mental well being of the patient. However, please note that a detailed history followed by constitutional treatment by a good and qualified homoeopath is necessary to treat the complaints that appear during adolescence. It is not advisable to resort to self-medication for any disease.

For more information about homeopathy and for treatment of your disease, please visit our web site www.drvaishnav.com or send an e-mail to office@drvaishnav.com

Having written about a brief, unexpected touch-point with my seventeen year old self, I thought I might take up the writing prompt from Sleep Is For The Weak and write a letter to my sixteen year old self.  It didn’t turn out to be the light-hearted piece I wanted. I’ve done my best but I just don’t like him very much. Not his fault but he really wasn’t good company, though people did persevere with him.  One thing I regret a little is that I now know no-one who I knew at school.  But I don’t regret it enough to do anything about it.

Dear AWW

I’m sorry but it gets worse. Much worse. On the other hand, you do get out alive and eventually, things get bearable. Later on, they’re pretty great. There’s this thing called the Web – it’ll save you. But it doesn’t exist yet so forget I spoke. You’ll know it when you see it.

Meanwhile, hang onto the moments of companionship with the school friends you have and now that you’ve finally got a handle on the bullying thing (I still drop jaws with the story of how that desk you threw knocked one of the little bastards across the room and how they never went near you again – seven years of torment sorted with one flying piece of furniture), you might try and get out of yourself a little bit. You’re not that bad a person. No-one hates you, not even God. Well, in retrospect, your sister might.

Speaking of God, I wish I could tell you to relax about that – God has not abandoned you, you do have a soul/spirit/divine essence/whatever just as every other human being has. You are not uniquely singled out by Jehovah for punishment. You aren’t that significant. No-one is. The dream about your soul being a withered spider thing hanging on the back of a shed door was just a dream.

You have nothing to be ashamed of. The spots really will go away. The bad haircuts, however, won’t, not until it falls out and you go for the Jean-Luc Picard look in about fifteen years. You won’t believe me, not with that poster of Scott Gorham on your wall, but you’ll look a lot better when people can see your face (there are teachers at school who have never actually seen it, hidden as it is behind a massive, greasy, curtain-like fringe).

This is the last year you will have to play rugby.

You’re right about Yeats – he is the greatest thing since sliced bread – and the reading you’re doing now will sustain me through many dark times. You’re clever, as Doctor Who would say, and even though it’s accidental, you’re putting down foundations that’ll stand me in good stead in many unexpected situations. Keep on reading, reading, reading…

As for the rest of school, your dedication to delivering the absolute minimum necessary, to never doing any homework that can’t be knocked out two minutes before the relevant lesson starts, to depending on improvisation, lying, copying and simply not doing anything will pay off. If nothing else, I can think on my feet and I suspect I owe that to your relentless pursuit of situations you have to talk yourself out of. It isn’t really your fault that too many teachers saw through even your most elaborate defences and that the array of objects you’ve by now been beaten with is quite astonishing.

At sixteen, you’re in the midst of a brief period of golden innocence (even including the blue movies in the Scout hut kitchen – that was strange). Hang onto it. Hang on to the walks in the snow, the lunchtime ‘bunking off’ to the record shop in the town shopping centre with other rockers, the fags, the first time you had a pint, the little moments of freedom. Despite everything, between 9 and 4, you are free, really free. No-one can make you be anything other than yourself and it doesn’t matter if you have no clue what that self is (I reiterate, you do have a self, however provisional). I know our home is a prison, a prison of the mind as well as the body but you escape – you really do. One day, they won’t own you. Believe it or not, they never really did. Hang on, hang on!

One day your father will die and you will be sorry for him. One day, you will bring yourself to forgive him.

Oh my poor boy – I wish I could offer something useful but you just have to get through it. I can hardly remember these times in an orderly way – I could if I wanted to but I just won’t. There’s too much pain, too much futile regret, even thirty years later, for missed opportunities, missed friendships, the damage given and received in our family that I still can’t coherently tabulate.  But school is better than you realise.  I’m not helping much, am I? I say again, you get out of this alive and one day, things get better, much better. You’ll have children.  They change everything.  Even you.

You’re not a bad person. Not all that lovable but not all that bad. And one day, people will love you. I promise.

Love

Dad Who Writes

P.S. Yes, you do eventually finish a novel and start another one. Lets not worry about the getting published bit for now.

P.P.S. In thirty years time, there will still be new music and new books that will excite you as much as they now do. It will become a flood. You’ll love it. There are bands and writers you’ve never heard of who will change your life. Have faith in yourself and your ability to change. You haven’t met your birth mother yet but if she gave us one thing, it’s the raw capacity to survive and move on. You’ll survive and move on.

This is crazy! Nah actually it’s beyond crazy, but in a good way…I think?!?!? Its funny how we have our life’s planned out. We want to do “this” by the time we’re this age and we want to accomplish “that” before we’re another age. I must admit, when I was about 12 I wrote down everything I wanted to accomplish and the age at which I wanted to accomplish those things. I won’t say I had some unrealistic expectations but I did have some unrealistic time frames. For instance I wanted to graduate from college, get married, and have 3 kids all before the age of 21. Ummm soooo yeah….Let’s just take a moment to Thank God for none of that nonsense not coming to pass. Now can I get an Amen? Granted I did graduate from college when I was 21, and I do still want to get married and have 3 kids. But the thought of me at 21 married with kids creeps me out. At 21I was learning who I was. I was just realizing that it’s okay to take the road less traveled and not apologize for it. I was just beginning to discover my true purpose for being placed on this earth. And to think, at the age of 12, I thought I’d know everything by the time I was 18…SMH the mindset of a 12 year old.

 My father and I were talking on Thanksgiving and I was sharing with him how although I’d accomplished quite a bit, considering the fact that I’m only 24, there were still something’s I thought I’d have by now that I don’t. There were some places that I’d thought I would have gone by now that I haven’t. I proceeded to tell him about how I had made a list of things I’d wanted to accomplish when I was 12 and with the exception of graduating, buying my car, dancing in front of thousands and going to Africa I hadn’t accomplished anything else on the list. We began to talk about the things I’d written on this now 12 year old list. He assured me that in due time, God’s time, things would come together for me and that I would be able to see that I’m actually right on track to accomplish “The List”. When I got in my car to head back home I couldn’t do anything but cry. I just thought about how things weren’t working out in the manner in which I felt like they should. I thought about how I wanted to write a book and I wanted Ms. Oprah to pick it for her book club. But now since she’s leaving next year I wouldn’t have that opportunity, because even if I started it that day I didn’t see how it would be published or how she would even see it. Don’t Laugh! I was an ambitious child. Yes, I was pouting and having a “whoa it’s me” pity party…but we all have those moments…don’t we?!?!?

Anyhoo…for the past year or so I had really been wanting one thing in particular. I won’t say what it was/is, but it meant/means a lot to me. I was starting to feel like maybe that one thing would never happen. Maybe it’s not in God’s plan for me. Just when I was about to say “forget it” and move on to the next dream, I’m starting to feel like it’s possible. I’m starting to feel like it’s really going to happen and soon. I know you’re like, “what is this girl talking about?” I’m talking about a dream. Something that I’ve wanted since I can remember but never thought I could have. Those people that are closest to me will tell you I’m the go to person. Anytime something is wrong or someone needs to vent they come to me. If they only knew that this one thing has brought me to my knees many nights. Just the thought of it finally being a reality is too hard to put into words. I mean have you ever asked for something for so long that when you’re finally on the brink of getting it you begin to freak out? Well that’s exactly where I am today. Too be 100% honest I’m getting teary eyed just thinking about it. Last year this time you couldn’t have told me I’d be where I am today. I would have betted my last against it. Sure I wanted it to happen, just never thought this would be HIS route. I’m still pinching myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. 2009 hasn’t been the easiest year…I think I’ve cried more this year than I did in 1999 (when my grandmother passed away); now that this year is almost over and my dream is almost a reality I’m looking forward to 2010. You should have kicked me when I was down because I’m on my way up and there’s no stopping me now!

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asdgmnawefoasdalskjd asdf asjkf asd as fs;f jsd f sfsf Check it out at Christ The Rock’s Web page.

Or, the Focus page: Register here

This is, bar none, the BEST sermon I have ever heard for men - 06 Luke_ The Birth of John the Baptizer (Start at around 33 minutes, to get to the good part!)

Every man in our society, aged 19-35 ought to listen to this.

Mark Driscoll is somebody I only discovered recently, but have absolutely been rocked by his teaching. Amazing what power the simple Word of God has, in the hands of an effective communicator!

In summary, Driscoll says that in most “normal” cultures (we are far from normal/healthy!) around the world, there are two stages of maleness: “boy” and “man.” There are several transitional markers which usually fall into place quite rapidly: getting a trade, buying a place, marrying, having children. In our culture, however, these normal transition-markers have broken down. Since there is a prologued gap between child and man, we have created a new stage of life, called adolescence. For some, this period never really ends.

I especially liked what he had to say about men being designed to be givers, not takers, providers, not consumers, others-centered, not inward-focused. Men are supposed to live their lives to empower others – not impose on others, use them and abuse them to facilitate a lazy, out-of-touch, ego-driven existence.

Let’s admit it – young single men in our culture have it MADE. They have tons of money to spend, tons of time to spend it, and no responsibilities to weigh them down. It is easy to purchase big “toys,” to pursue glamorous hobbies, to spend enormous amounts of time in purely selfish occupations.

This stage is great fun…But it’s not real, and it’s not healthy. It should not be encouraged, it should not be prolonged and – here is the really important point – it should not be held on to as “normal,” against which the responsibilities of marriage are “abnormal.” Men are called to “lay down their lives for their wives, as Christ laid down His life for the church.” (1 Cor. 5:25) Christ left all the riches, power, pleasures, authority, etc. of Heaven in order to live a menial existence and die a humiliating and painful death here on earth. If we are to follow Christ’s example, we men also need to lay down our lives – to set down the video-game controller, to sell the fancy truck, to pick up the punch-card and go to work, then come home and change diapers, resolve fights, learn to love and lead in the midst of chaos, then go to sleep exhausted only to wake up again and do it all over. This is real life. This is real adulthood – giving, not taking. Dying to self, not draining others for self. Attention, men – this is what you are called to do!!

Unfortunately, by the time most men get married, they have been single long enough to get comfortable in the “adolescent” stage of life. Tragically, some men try to go on living as bachelors all their married lives – ignoring their spouses and children, under-providing, not carrying their weight around the house, distant, distracted, always wistful for “the good old days.” What makes everything so much worse is that the marketing world has learned that there is an easy market here. Men are insecure about their manliness, and so the “buy this, you’ll be a man!” line works astonishingly well. Also, men long for “the good old days,” and so the promise of “buy this, you’ll feel young again” also works far too well. From advertising to programming to social pressure, every loud voice in our society is telling men that this strange, made-up-phase of life called “adolescence” is not only a normal, but it is to be normative: anything that doesn’t look or feel like adolescence is constricting, limiting, abnormal, unnatural. No wonder men see their families as a “ball-and-chain,” keeping them from “the good life.”

“Marriage is not about making us happy, but about making us holy” – that is a quote I heard which so totally encapsulates this concept. It’s time to grow up, men! It’s time to stand up to the plates. It’s time to stop taking and start giving.

It’s time to leave Never-Never land, and become a real man – now here, take this bottle and diaper and get to work!

comprendre les adolescents

si vous voulez mieux comprendre vos adolescents , afin de  pouvoir communiquer avec eux plus facilement, lisez ces écrits …et ainsi vous comprendrez mieux ce qui se passe dans leur tête obtuse…

étant une ex-ado, je comprends mieux ces jeunes en recherche de personnalité, ces jeunes qui passent de l’enfance à l’adulte, avec bien des difficultés …

j’ai fait édité les écrits d’une ado, qui pour vider le trop plein de ses problèmes,son mal de vivre,  les a mis sur papier…

pour vivre et partager avec elle , allez ici…

http://www.unibook.com/unibook/site/bookdetail/?bookid=9280

ou ici

http://go.oracleberny.oracleberny.1.1tpe.net

ou ici

http://www.lulu.com/content/e-book/intimit%c3%a9-adolescente/7975636

venez me lire , vous ne serez pas déçu

Ce recueil de poèmes, est une reprise de poésies, écrites à la hâte, par une adolescente ingénue, qui a passé sa jeunesse, remplie de complexes, incomprise, dans un milieu sordide,. Il a été réécrit et retravaillé, par l’adulte éclairée, plus expérimentée, qu’est devenue cette même jeune fille, 30 ans plus tard. En lisant ce livre, vous allez entrer dans l’intimité d’une jeune naïve, guère expérimentée, aux idées saugrenues…
L’auteur a déversé sur ces pages, toute l’écume rageuse des déboires de son adolescence…Ce recueil est en soi, une autobiographie, de l’aube d’un enfer au crépuscule d’un paradis…

pour gagner de l’argent , lisez ceci :

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Welcome to my first book review, unsolicited by the author, my cousin through marriage, Nicole Barker.  What Mrs. Barker did ask me to do, as a Licensed Social Worker who works with teenage girls, was to see if the book could be used within my practice and whether or not, in my opinion, my clients would like to read the book.  I read the book and was inspired to write a review.   I have read none of the other reviews about Dancing with Ana.  Since I really don’t know how this is done, I wanted to be able to formulate my own opinion and offer it here, free of the bias of others.  There were things I really liked about this book, and things that as a social worker I didn’t.  The rub is I’m a little out of touch.  I don’t have children of my own, and the ones I do work with have deep end psychiatric and behavioral issues. Many of those issues are addressed in Mrs. Barker’s debut work of fiction, Dancing with Ana.

Dancing with Ana is about the life of Beth Baxter, a 16-year-old female from Florida who has what is presumed to be a fairly average middle-class life until her father abandons the family.  She is supported by her mother, younger brother, and three close friends, all of whom cope with life in a variety of ways.  Beth has none of the early warning signs of any sort of “troubled teenager.”  She was raised in a faith-based home, has plenty of activities, nobody does drugs, etc.  Her friends are fairly representative of the microcosm of society.  Melanie appears to have it all together, Rachel comes from a dysfunctional home and flirts with danger in her own way, and Jenny seems to float and follow.  Themes of young love, identity formation, and peer pressure abound.

The book itself is attention grabbing and the plot runs smoothly.  It has received great reviews from its target audience, the young readers who previewed it in pre-production stages.  It took me two nights to read it, only because life interfered.  As an adult I liked the throwbacks to my childhood, such as the Grateful Dead music and T-shirt that could easily be found in mom’s drawer or a trend shop.  Body image is an age-old struggle for young women, one that is more intense than ever in this media age complicated by the Internet.  It’s just not enough anymore to be healthy, affluent, smart and ridiculously athletic.

My critiques are relatively minor in comparison to the strength of the message of the book.  The strength of the message of this book is that everyone has problems, even if you’re leading a middle to upper-middle class life with perfect hair and wardrobe.   Have concern that my clientele may balk at the lack of diversity in the book.  They may on first glance see only that Melanie is “half white” and Rachel is “so white trash she has to cut to cope.” 

Mrs. Barker does an amazing job with the development of Beth, the main character.  Most of the supporting characters do just that and are likeable in their own right. This is certainly a book about girl power.  It concerns me, however, that Jeremy and Corey are a bit too perfect and Beth’s father is a bit too dastardly.  I further felt that Rachel’s dangerous coping skill of cutting was abandoned all too quickly and conveniently once her luck turned around.  In my experience* this is not an accurate portrayal and a widely misunderstood affliction by both the adolescents who suffer from it and the people who are close to them.  To portray the message that some good support will “cure them” could be an inaccurate message to send. Not to mention the author potentially cuts herself off from what could be an awesome plot device for a second book.  Rachel was definitely my favorite character of the supporting three!

Overall this was a great book.  I ran an eating disorders group a couple of weeks ago (unfortunately before the book came out) and the girls were able to relate to feeling fat in the presence of others, and feeling like it was ok to “do anything” to lose 10 pounds.  Most of them were far more willing to restrict calories than exercise more, and few saw the inherent dangers to their health, both mentally and physically.  I certainly plan to order a few more copies of the book to make available to anyone who chooses to read them, and suggest that parents read the book to see what their children are up against, and to use it as a springboard and backdoor for discussing important topics with their children.  I will certainly use excerpts from the book in the groups. 

As an aside, the book also highlighted teenage drinking, which I didn’t really get into in this review.  I certainly hope that Mrs. Barker will writer about this theme with the same clarity and honesty that she wrote about eating disorders in Dancing with Ana.  The same attention and detail would be a boon to the topic of cutting, a topic that parents tell me over and over they just cannot understand, and wish they could.  The current material out there is too clinical for the majority of those in need of understanding.  Books like this on these topics, written so that parents and daughters could read and discuss together would certainly be a gift and a treasure.

Here’s a thought…What a perfect holiday gift for a special girl or mom of a girl in your life!

Author: Joseph Langen
Source: ezinearticles.com

We are the world, we are the children.

We are the ones who accomplish a brighter day.

(from, “Michael Jackson“,, “Michael Jackson“, We’re the World~ Michael Jackson)

Creative humans generally anticipate abnormally from anybody else. They brainstorm means of seeing the apple and of accomplishing things which ability not action to others. However their relationships generally appearance a complication difficult to understand. Sometimes they actualize disasters for themselves and anybody abroad involved.

Mary Lou Cook describes adroitness as “inventing, experimenting, growing, demography risks, breaking rules, authoritative mistakes and accepting fun.” It is a action of adjustment reality, seeing new access and sometimes a accomplished new reality. Frank Barron sees the artistic being as “both added cultivated, added destructive, a lot madder and a lot saner than the boilerplate person.” Extremes and contractions mark the lives of the creative. They generally arise as enigmas to others for whom adjustment and argumentation is important.

Like abounding awfully artistic people, Michael Jackson defies compassionate and explanation. He continued music and ball aloft their antecedent boundaries. Yet his claimed activity boring unraveled, agreeable criticism and scorn.

At times I accept absurd that acknowledged artistic humans reside charmed lives. Details of Michael’s activity splattered in the tabloids angry my belief on its head. Adroitness provides no agreement of bread-and-butter success nor does it assure an ordered life. In actuality the adverse is generally true.

The aloft analogue of adroitness could aswell serve to call adolescence. Maybe active a artistic activity is like abiding adolescence, seeing annihilation as absurd and no traditions as sacred. Unbounded by context, their account yield on a activity of their own.

Speaking of adolescence, Michael Jackson’s antic with boyish boys appropriate he was absorbed against pedophilia. Yet the affinity amid adroitness and boyhood affectionate that he ability accept lived added at the affecting akin of boyhood than of adults. He ability accept acquainted added adequate in their aggregation than in that of adults.

Creativity can yield the anatomy of a demon as able-bodied as a muse. It can accession its almsman to new pinnacles. It can aswell exact a abrupt assessment on the superior of life. Finding a antithesis amid adroitness and adherence would accomplish for a beneath anarchic life, but it would aswell addled the aciculate bend of creativity. Part of boyhood is adventuresome abandon. Stopping to accede after-effects inhibits spontaneity, a botheration for artistic announcement but not a bad affair in claimed life.

Maybe compassionate anyone like Michael Jackson is too abundant to apprehend no amount how you access it. Like adroitness itself, it cannot be affianced down. His artistic success and claimed limitations may just dramatize the extremes of which we are all capable.

Have you apparent my Childhood?

I’m analytic for that admiration in my youth.

Like absurd belief to share

The dreams I would dare, watch me fly

(from Childhood ~ Michael Jackson)

Life Lab Lessons

What are your artistic talents?
Do you bless or adumbrate them?
Let your spirit fly, if just a little.
Allotment your ability with those who charge them.
Treasure and bless others’ gifts.

Joseph G. Langen is the author of Commonsense Wisdom for Everyday Life, Young Man of the Cloth, The Pastor’s Inferno and Navigating Life: Commonsense Reflections for the Voyage. He also distributes a free newsletter on commonsense wisdom topics, Sliding Otter News. Learn more about his writing and publishing through Sliding Otter Publications at:

http://www.slidingotter.com
http://www.commonsense-wisdom.blogspot.com

Contact him at: jlangen@slidingotter.com

From The Global Achievement Gap by Tony Wagner.

“Michael Jung. . . believes that ‘there are only three reasons why people work or learn. There’s push, which is a need, threat or risk, but this is now a less plausible or credible motivating force [in the industrialized countries] than it has been, even for the disadvantaged. There’s transfer of habits—habits shaped by social norms and traditional routines. But this, too, is becoming weaker now, because of the erosion of traditional authority and social values. That leaves only pull—interest, desire, passion.’ I understand Jung to be talking about three kinds of human motivation. Physiological need is one—the need for food and shelter and so on. But he suggests that with high rates of employment and government safety nets, this is less of a motivational force in many young people’s lives than it once was. The desire to adhere to social norms is another human motivation that is weaker than it used to be, because traditional sources of authority, religion and family, have less influence on young people today. Jung believes that it is the third motivational force—interest, desire, and passion—that increasing numbers of young people are seeking and responding to in school and at the workplace.”

We tend to be products of our environments so I wouldn’t describe the transfer of habits/adherence to social norms argument quite like Jung and Wagner. The influence of significant others, for better or worse, is still there. My clearest childhood memories of my dad are of him pacing the house as he memorized his sales presentations.  Five or six at the time, the impact was indelible. Every family has momentum, whether positive or negative. Because of my parents, ours was positive which is not synonymous with perfect. If a critical mass of adults in a young person’s life aren’t working and planning for a better future, we can’t expect that young person to care much about school work, continuing their education, or making a positive difference in the world.

If we agree that young people are mostly motivated by interest, desire, and passion, as I’m inclinded to do, we need to rethink teaching, coaching, and parenting. In his book, Wagner tells Kate’s story, a senior in high school. “Kate suffered from too much of the wrong kind of adult authority,” Wagner writes. “She was overmanaged for success—success being narrowly defined as getting into a college her parents and teachers considered to be top-notch and having a high paying job.”

What good are high standardized test scores and good grades if a student lacks specific interests, desires, and passion? What if they learn to “do school” but fail to become passionate about anything?

The seventeen and eighteen year-olds that I know are striving to get into the best colleges possible. But what makes one college better than another? US News and Report offers pseudo-empirical answers based upon numbers colleges get good at manipulating, but there’s more art to educational excellence than science. Maybe the best college is the one where faculty and staff help students discover their interests and desires. They advise and teach passionately; consequently, students become more passionate about writing, or a language, a culture, an environmental challenge, a historical period, a social movement, global politics, law, or medicine. I’d like to see USN&R measure staff and faculty passion for advising and teaching.

If I did a focus group with my daughter and her twelfth grade friends, I suspect all of them could identify things they like, but only a few could explain in any detail what they are most passionate about and why. And surely those few that are ahead of the curve need guidance on how to turn their passions into purposeful vocations. My wish for my daughter and her friends is that over the next four or five years they become more passionate and begin translating their passions into meaningful, rewarding work.

Its a funny thing, to be cognizant of your sexual evolution. You find yourself drawn to a particular type of person at one point in your life. The years tick by, one, two, three, five, ten, fifteen. And before you even know what’s hit you, you find yourself attracted to a whole new type of person, particularly: a whole new AGE of person. It’s not something most people think about; it’s a natural evolution, and with good reason. If our taste in potential mates didn’t evolve, we would be a society of child molesters. But I digress.

I saw the movie True Lies recently. The protag’s daughter in the film is around 14 years old. I remember seeing the film for the first time in the early nineties, when I was of similar age and thinking “she’s cute.” I have also recently begun watching the SciFi remake of Battlestar Galactica (which is really good.) I’ve found myself thinking similar thoughts about the women in the series who appear to be in their thirties and forties.  I also confess an interest in movies with Jennifer Connely and Sean Young, but that’s another story.

The point is this: next time you watch a film you grew up with, take a look at the characters you used to admire. Then go and watch a film you’ve seen recently and compare who you used to admire with who you do admire. You may be surprised at what you find.

This picture was taken at a junior high dance. This was the only time period in my life when I had big bangs. Upon a closer inspection, the reader will notice I am wearing a neon colored Swatch Watch and an outfit from the Gap.

I was very awkward and self-conscious in middle school. I wore glasses, braces, curled my bangs every morning, and sprayed my bangs with L.A. Looks hair spray to keep them nice, high, and rock solid.

My bathroom in seventh and eighth grade smelled distinctly like a combination of burnt hairspray and burnt hair. That’s because I spent twenty minutes every morning warming up my curling iron, sticky with hairspray residue, so I could curl the top half of my bangs backwards, and the bottom portion of my bangs towards my forehead.

I would then spray my bangs thoroughly with hairspray to keep them big, puffy, and in place all day. Sometimes (and this is probably what caused the burnt hairspray-burnt hair aroma), I would hold the hot part of the iron up to my freshly sprayed hair to make it dry more quickly. This would make a soft frying sound and would singe the hair of my bangs. It also seemed to make my curled bangs harder.

To say the hair in my bangs was damaged during seventh grade was an understatement. This was why I had to curl my bangs EVERY morning. A lot of seventh grade girls probably found themselves in this very same predicament during the fall of 1989.

I also had a small, travel sized bottle of hairspray from the drugstore that I kept in my locker for afternoon maintenance.

By the end of the eighth grade, I was growing my bangs out and opting for a natural look, with long brown hair and no bangs. This is how I have worn my hair ever since.