Spying on Your Teen: Privacy and Parenting

Okay.

I always said I'd do it, if I felt it was necessary. In fact, when Sisi leaves the house, I sometimes say: "Act like I'm right there with you, because you never know when I'm going to show up." But I'd never done it... until yesterday.

Lately, Sisi, my high school freshman, has been calling me right after school saying "I'm going to stay after in the library... with my friends." At first, I thought "Great, she's going to get some studying in or work on that English paper." No problem.

Except the English grade was in the toilet-- "D" in an Honors class!-- and most of the other grades weren't all that exciting either. The low grades suggested one of two things: (1) she wasn't actually spending her afternoons in the library; or (2) there was more "hanging with my friends" than school work going on-- which means there needs to be an adjustment in the study routine.

How to determine what is really going on? Nothing like a "drop-in," right?

Or wrong?

The question of teen privacy is one that is much debated. There are parents who firmly believe that searching a teen's room, checking their text messages and showing up uninvited when they go out is the height of infringement. How can a young adult develop, learn to trust their own judgment and have confidence in their own decision with the fear of a parent helicoptering into their lives all the time? What does that say about the level of trust between parent and child? This view is teen-centered and puts the child's need to develop independence above the parent's need for information.

And of course, in the other camp are those parents who argue that, much as teen children might think they have the capacity to make adult decisions, they are, indeed, still children. And since they are children, parents have an obligation and a duty to monitor their conduct for safety and security reasons and to maintain awareness about what's happening in their lives. This puts the parents' need for information about the child's need for independence.

To be honest, I have always thought of myself as a parent in the second camp-- especially for a young teen, like my daughter. Fourteen is still quite young, and I have always said that the need to protect children outweighs all other considerations. Of course, that was before I had a teenaged daughter.

I see it differently now... or rather, I'm less certain and more conflicted about it.

I see, for instance, how much confidence young people get from opportunities to experience themselves without a hovering parent. I see leaps in maturity and decision-making. I see a young woman learning how to handle herself-to trust her instincts-- in an uncertain world.

But I also see the immaturity of those decisions from time to time. I see the misplaced priorities of using freedom to "have fun" at the expense of obligations like choir rehearsals, homework, studying for tests and honoring curfews. I see the temptations of peer pressure.

Just two weeks ago, on Ssturday afternoon, I gave Sisi permission to visit the county library with friends--with strict instructions for her to come home at a certain time because we had evening plans as a family. Not only did she miss the curfew, but her friends had talked her into leaving the library and going to fast-food restaurant a few blocks away to hang out. I might not have known about it except that her attendance at this family outing was expected, and since she had missed her curfew we now needed to pick her up on the way to the event. She had to confess that she wasn't at the Library anymore.

That mistake cost her a week of freedom.

It's also the reason I decided I needed to follow up on my threat to "show up" unexpectedly today when she used the "library card"-- pun intended.

And there she was, sitting quietly at a table with her books out, head down, working. Her friends were nowhere in sight. My daughter was quietly doing her homework, just like she said she was.

I tiptoed out before she ever saw me, feeling both proud of her and a little ashamed of myself. Maybe, a little more trust and a little less "helicoptering" is in order here. I found myself reviewing the whole library/fastfood curfew decision. Had I over-reacted? Or was my child sitting quietly in the library as explained right now because of getting caught somewhere else last time?

None of this is as easy or as clear as I once would have thought.

It does seem clear to me now, however, that I want to avoid extremes on either side of the parenting/privacy fence... which leaves me with a sort of Reagan-era policy of "trust but verify" double-speak. What does that mean exactly? I didn't know in the Reagan-era... and I don't know now.

I had intended to keep my little spying mission a secret, but my 5 year old (who was with me on the excursion) outed me at the dinner table. "We went to the library and saw Sisi!" she told Daddy proudly.

Sisi wasn't mad. "I felt like I was being watched!" she said, laughing. "You were there?"

I confessed. I told why and what I saw and why I left.

"I was finishing a make-up paper for English," she said. "The teacher said if I did a good job, I could bring my grade up." She gave me a searching look. "You really came to the library?"

I nodded.

"Wow." Then she just stared at me for a really long time.

Like I said, I feel conflicted...but it's done now. Operation "Trust But Verify" is underway, for good or ill... just in time for this weekend's Halloween festivities.

An Ugly Encounter

Lately, I've been lucky enough to pick up quite a few ghost writing projects workng with various celebrities (no, I can't tell you who!). The work is interesting and a completely new venue for me, but it has required quite a bit of travel. Kevin has been doing a fabulous job as "Mr. Mom" (with help from Grammie and from our friends and neighbors) over the past several months. This weekend, he'll get to take Lil Bit to gymnastics and Sisi shopping for a dress for Homecoming at her high school while I'm in Las Vegas (yes, I know... poor me!)

Since he's "Dad on duty" he won't get much peace until I get back late next week. So you can hardly blame the guy for taking his lunch break yesterday from work to run a few personal errands and have a long, leisurely, solo lunch.

Kevin's lunch at a Chinese restaurant not far from our house was solo--and eventful.

The restaurant does a healthy carry-out business, but is often nearly empty inside. That was the case during his lunch. Only one other table was occupied--by two other white guys who seemed determined to use every racial slur against Asian women possible before leaving.

"Hey China doll!" One of these men shouted at the waitress. "Come over here!"

"YOu got to watch out for the slanty eyed ones!" This guy was on a roll.

On and on, it went from this dude, while Kevin listened in amazement. He couldn't help but listen-- the guy was shouting his ignorance through the restaurant. Apparently, he thought he was funny.

He kept looking at Kevin, trying to guage if Kevin was on board with what he was saying. Kev gave him the stink eye-- which probably kept him from saying more.


Chivalrous Kevin-- ready for action!

As he was paying his bill, this dude, who unfortunately embodies the beer-bellied redneck stereotype physically as well as in his conduct, followed the young waitress behind the counter and stood behind her, breathing down her neck while she opened the cash register, effectively blocking her ability to get away from him. My chivalarous husband was ready: the guy was big and sloppy, but Kevin is strong. My money is on Kevin in most circumstances because I've seen him action on a boxing bag--but it didn't come to that. The guy made a few more racist, sexist comments and left, laughing with his buddy because he's just so damned funny.

"That guy was a jerk," Kevin told the waitress when she came over to check on him.

She nodded, sadly. "The restaurant's owner threw him out once-- and told him not to come back. But he comes anyway. Not often, but every now and then. I guess I could call the police but..." she shrugged. "Really all he does is talk."

Kevin pointed out that he followed her behind the counter-- as sure an attempt at physical intimidation as any-- but she seemed to think the guy was loud and offensive, but basically harmless.

"I was just disgusted," he told me on the phone later. "I like to think of our community as multicultural and tolerant, but clearly we've got our share of bigots, too. I mean, it's 2010! What rock has this asshole been under?"

I don't know, but the assholes are indeed among us. Every day and everywhere, they move through the world, spewing ugly stereotypes and perpetuating their particular kinds of ignorance and "humor." Some are beer bellied guys in restaurants-- but others are clean cut and innocuous looking, whispering in office cubicles and checkout lines. Some are preaching in churches and teaching in schools. Still others have their own TV shows, using a much more stuble language of divisiveness--but it's there all the same.

Like Kevin, we all need to give these folks the "stink eye". We need to let them know we don't agree-- and when necessary, we need to be vocal and even aggressive about it. Like the saying goes, "All that is needed for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing." I'm proud of Kevin for treating words with a proper expression of disagreement and disapproval-- and for being willing to intervene upon the suggestion of something more sinister. I'm also proud of him for letting the young woman know that one individual's bad behavoir isn't the standard by which all should be judged.

It sometimes seems that racism is too large and amorphous for us to fight. But it really isn't. It's through our smallest acts, we fight these attitudes: by turning away, by repudiating, by refusing to purchase or participate, by turning off our TVs. Small actions, yes... but ones with big consequences when we do them consciously and with the courage of our convictions.