Raising Minnesota

I am no parenting expert. When my son was just a few weeks old I tried to cut his tender fingernails with one of those baby clippers. I nipped the ends of all ten digits--he barely cried--and when I brought him in for his well-baby check the doctor asked me about the ten little scabs at the tips of his fingers.

I don't feel very successful in the teen-raising department either and sometimes I say mean things and act inconsistent and run up to my room to sulk if things get really bad--just like the teens I'm trying to nurture.

But here's some advice I stand by, for anyone who has a kid in their life.












Take them out into the community, preferably with a group of other kids, and work with them helping others.

It's always been a good thing for our kids. They have served annually at Thanksgiving dinner parties at an assisted-living facility, have been part of a crew at Habitat for Humanity, have worked the kitchen lines at the Dorothy Day Center. They are better kids for it. They feel empathy, they feel pride, they feel a connection. My son recently said about one of these efforts, "We worked our butts off but it was fun."

One mother said to me recently, "My kid is driving me nuts. It seems it's my job to remind him the universe does not revolve around him."

I say, don't tell him. Show him.

And, if you don't normally have a chance being around a lot of teens other than your kid's small circle of friends, join one of these volunteer groups, too. It gives you some perspective. You get to see a bunch of kids at their best, perhaps. And they in turn get to see you in a new context. You reaching out to others; you out of their needy world and into another.

I chaperoned ten 13-year-olds to volunteer with the St. Paul Parks and Rec this morning and we planted native grasses in a rain garden at Lake Phalen. Last Thursday they loaded shrub and debris from the Salvation Army. Next week they'll befriend younger kids at the St. Paul Boys and Girls Club.

On the way back from the park we listened to the local hip-hop station. I had five boys in my little Vibe and they were in good moods after the morning work. An ad came on: "Want to have the plus-plus size you've always wanted? Those big, luscious breasts you've only envied on others? Then buy Latavia breast enhance--. . . " I said, "Someone turn the station, quick." It was stupid and offensive and for a second seemed to be a slap in the face to our good intentions, you know? But I could see all the boys pickled-up in the back, faces squeezed in near-hysteria and I knew they were trying hard not to fall into this one. One kid finally let out a huge laugh and the rest exploded. The tallest boy said, "This is hilarious. This is great stuff. Great stuff. I love volunteering."