Questionnaire

Henry’s new teachers (he’s got two this year) mailed us a questionnaire. We received it in June, so naturally we filed it away until last night, hours before his first day of second grade.

This has been an extraordinarily challenging couple of weeks, parenting-wise. Camp was over, school had not yet begun. It was hot and humid, as it generally is this time of year. Most of Henry’s friends were out of town. Henry was bored. We were out of things to do. And we fought. All three of us, in different permutations. Eight-year-oldness, at least around here, has been a preview of adolescence and all its sulky, dramatic horrors. I didn’t like it. Scott didn’t like it. We were exhausted. At the end of the day we’d put Henry to bed and watch Lost on Netflix. We started at Season 1 a couple of months ago and we’re already nearing the end. We’d watch episode after episode until we were falling asleep. Somehow it was comforting to watch. Our kid was being difficult. We were undoubtedly being difficult right back. But at least we weren’t trapped on an island, fighting for our very lives!

So last night we filled out the questionnaire. How would you describe your child? What does your child most enjoy? What are your child’s greatest challenges? I struggled to answer it. Could I even accurately describe my own child? Could I get past my own anger and frustration and hopes and projections and see him for who he is? Damned if I know. Sometimes I can see us hurtling toward some future where we don’t understand each other, not even a little bit. I hope that's not true, of course, but it's not as outside the realm of possibilities as I once thought it was.

I found out last week that someone very dear to me died. She died last year, and I had no idea. She was 85, so it’s not like it was unexpected, but it hit me hard.

Lois Hunt was my voice teacher. I was pretty serious about singing, when I was in high school, and then I found Lois. I went to her a couple of times a week. And Lois, well, she took me seriously. Is there anything you want more, when you're a kid? She had a talent I suspect few adults really share: to consider a teenager like I was--a goofy, depressed, anxious, semi-formed being--a peer worthy of attention.

Lois didn’t mess around. She had little patience for my antics, and she gently dismissed my frequent attempts to deflect her attention. And believe me, I tried. I thought if anyone really got a look at me, they would find out how wrong I was, how hopeless and awful. What that would mean, I didn’t know--there were no words for it. But all those fears were beside the point when I was with her. I was there to work, and I was expected to be serious, and I was. When I was at Lois’s house, I was okay, and I would be okay, and I knew it.

Lois and I spent a lot of time together for only a couple of years, but they were important years, as anyone who’s endured high school knows. I was struggling. After my lesson, we’d talk. She’d make me tea and show me pictures from her storied musical career. I’d play with her cats and tell her about my latest troubles. I don’t recall her giving any advice, although I’m sure she did, but I do remember feeling understood. If there had been a questionnaire back then, if someone had wanted to know about me, I would have asked Lois to fill it out. Even though I only saw her a couple of times a week, and even though she didn’t have the considerable task of raising me.

What do I most enjoy? How would I describe myself? What are my greatest challenges? I’m still not sure. I still sometimes think that if I could call Lois and we could catch up, she would lead me to some answers. And I hope that someday, if I can’t help Henry know who he is, he finds someone like Lois who can.

Comments

[Feverish]

during my adolescence i had the great fortune or misfortune of latching on to many adult figures that i used as a mother replacement... mine was unavailable... and she bitterly resented each and every friendship i had that was not with her. i got a lot of "if i were so-and-so you would do this for me" and "if i were so-and-so you wouldn't say that."

looking back on those relationships, some were unhealthy on both ends, but all were valuable. they gave me life and hope and safety when i needed it.

i have no doubt that Henry will find the support he needs when he needs it.

[Julie]

Oh.

I am teary reading this.

Makes me want to be Lois and have known her.

[Anne]

My Lois was named Janet, and I positively cannot stop crying after reading this.
(A good kind of cry.)
(I think.)
(Pretty sure.)

[Feverish]

i failed to offer the most basic thought: my deep condolences in the loss of Lois. i think you would have made her proud.

[Tabitha (From Single to Married)]

So sweet... I'm trying to remember if I had a Louis in my life. Is it bad that I can't seem to think back that far?

[nora]

I just filled that survey out for my 3 year old - she's not showing pre-adolescent symptoms, obviously, but we clashed and fought the last 4 weeks of summer. About control, about my way or hers, about being 3 and being 32. I wanted to send her to preschool with this fresh slate so someone else could reach out to her (she has some attachment issues), but I also wanted to give her some really strong foundations to stand on (she needs help with transitions and saying the letter "r".) Its a fine line. I always hope to be that kind of teacher in my classroom - the one that takes time to read my students, know them and present them with a variety of solutions for their teenage problems. And I want that for my 3 year old too.

Thanks for the thoughts.

[izzabitz]

My daughter is on the cusp of (or perhaps has entered, at the age of 11) that adolescence that Henry is preparing you for. I also wonder if I know her now, and if I ever knew her like I always thought I did. Although I too hope that if she doesn't confide in me, she confides in another trusted adult, but I so want to be the one. I even want to decide which adult it should be -- her godmother, who is the kindest, coolest person I know. Growing up is hard, when you're a child and when you're raising one.

[the grumbles]

my Lois was a Sis instead. they're very special people aren't they?

[Wombat Central]

First, I'm sorry to hear about Lois. Special people like her are shining stars in our lives. It's always sad when their light fades from our view. ((hugs))

I was bummed when I recently tried to help my almost-eight-year-old son learn to play the piano. We used a book, and I helped him go through the basics. It was like two rams bashing heads repeatedly. Gah. I will now find a piano teacher. I'm sad I wasn't able to be the one to start him off (I thought it might be a nice bonding experience--ha!), but hopefully he'll connect with his teacher like you did. :)

[LivewithFlair]

We all need a Lois! I want to be a Lois to the teens in my neighborhood. Thank you! http://www.livewithflair.blogspot.com/

[Toronto Jen]

Mine was Phyllis Bowen. A Welsh woman well into her 90's as I travelled through the impoverished small town in Wales where my family is from. I found myself on her front step seeking answers about my family history. Instead, I made a friend for life, found inspiration, encouragement and endless heaps of love and praise. All from a woman who never realized how much of a treasure she was thought of, by so many. I hope I grow into a woman like her.
Thanks Alice, I think the Lois' and Phyllis' of the world are the ones we somehow want to become.
And to think, someone - somewhere, also thinks of you. and of me. like one of them.
Toronto Jen

[Beth]

I had a Lois named Dorothy. She was wonderful. Nothing more can be said beyond that. I'm so glad you had Lois, and I'm sorry about her passing.

(BTW, I don't go into great detail on those kid questionnaires because now that he's in fourth grade I've found that anything I write in the "challenges" section can prejudice a teacher against my kid. I just write that he's a happy, smart boy and pretty much leave it at that.)

[Tina]

So sorry for your loss. I clung to my teachers for support and guidance for dear life. To this day I wonder what kind of disaster I would be if it were not for those few who helped me shine.
And I thought 3 year olds were frustrating....now I am not looking forward to eight! (Just kidding).
Best,
Tina

[NeoCleo]

I wish I had a "Lois" for my 15-year-old goofy-assed self. My folks were too busy fighting with each other most of the time.

[Bianca]

Hi Alice. First time commenter, long time reader.
This post really spoke to me - thank you. My challenge at the moment is to make my 12 yo feel heard and understood, so reading your post this morning was just what I needed.

[suburbancorrespondent]

I was surprised to remember, while looking at an old blog post the other day, that when my son was about 8 or so years old, he was horrible. We were at wit's end with him. Obstinate, contrary, not listening....

Funny that that is the same person as the 13-year-old I described to a friend today as being absolutely essential to my happiness! Don't worry - the kid you can't stand today can wind up your best buddy next year.

[Amber]

My Lois was an English teacher named Mr. Odum who read my terrible, depressed high school poetry and short stories, saw the tiny bits of talent that all the melodrama of teenager-ness otherwise obscured, and encouraged me. He let me hang around after class and he talked to me like an adult, and with real kindness. I can imagine how devastated I would be to find out he was gone, even all these years later, and I am so sorry for your loss, but so glad you had Lois in your life.

[Sarah Buttenwieser]

We are in sync:
crabby kids
last minute forms
struggling with a loss

http://www.valleyadvocate.com/blogs/home.cfm?aid=12411

Sorry about Lois & hoping that second grade (my Remy began today, thumbs up so far) is as wonderful as second grade can be (it really, really can be).

[Katy]

I'm sorry for your loss, Alice.

I hope to one day be a Lois to someone. I'm trying to get certified to teach right now (2nd career), and I have so much to share, if only I could get hired!!

[Nadine]

I hope Lia finds a Lois. She is near ten, and the feelings you have about Henry are strongly felt in our household. Indeed, lately Lia has been voicing somethings that stop me in my tracks. Until she finds her Lois, I just hope that I can hang on tightly and figure out how to play my role to the fullest. The questions making you think -- and glimpse the future -- means you are probably hanging on just fine! Keep Lois in your heart and good luck with this long transition to adulthood and independence with Henry!

[Nadine]

Oh, and we totally have collapsed in front of netflix ourselves to detox from the mania after they are in bed.

[Abby - Bright Yellow World]

This is why I teach flute lessons still, despite the fact that it requires working a seven-day week. I will never forget the importance of my relationships with my high school and college flute teachers. There wasn't another adult in the world who spent an hour every week giving me their undivided attention. It's a really special thing, and it made the difference for me so many times.

[Leslie]

My condolences. It's difficult when you hear about someone close to you passing - even if they haven't been close to you for years.

And I believe that with the kind of awareness you're showing, you an Henry won't have any problem really knowing each other.

[Miss Britt]

I want so very much to be my kids' Lois, and it breaks my heart to know that I might not be.

There have been times when we were struggling as a family and I would talk to Devin's teacher and she would rave about his wonderful behavior and personality, and I would feel horrible that this other woman appreciated my kid more than I did.

[Ami]

Lovely piece, Alice. Thanks for sharing.
It's okay that this part of summer was hard. Also, 8 is a sucky age all around. The first half of 9 is much better, then 9.5 comes and sucks again. At least, that's the general perception, all kids are individuals, and so on. (I've taken to reading really old-fashioned parenting books, like the ames and ilg series "your X year old", and they're so common sense I find them comforting.)

[Holly]

So sorry to hear about Lois. I think I had a few of those- but none was a relationship as close as yours was.

What made me cry though was reading about Henry. My son is 7 1/2. August was horrible. School started for us last week and- although he would never admit to it- my son's mood has improved. I'm not counting on it to last, but it's been a nice break from walking on eggshells around him, moodiness, and drama. And, worst of all, feeling like the closeness I have felt with my son was coming to an end. That was happening much earlier than I expected. I dread the teenage years.

Oh, and our escape at the end of the night was It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Nothing like watching other peoples' incredibly bad choices to make you feel better about your own life!

[b]

My son was horrible when he was little. Just horrible. My poor husband was working ALL THE TIME and our son took his anger and frustration about the situation out on me. It was AWFUL. Absolutely heartbreaking that this little guy whom I loved and who really ought to love me just a little bit was so... mean. (And like I'm sure is the case with you, although I may not have always responded to his anger with love and understanding, I approached every interaction with hope and affection and patience. He was just going through a lot, poor little guy.)

Now (and for the past several years)... he is AWESOME. So funny and loving and a genuine pleasure to be around. I really really miss him when he's not in the house. And he's SIXTEEN! Who'da thunk it?

I can't overstate how awful it was around here when he was little. Well, that's not true. He was never violent, just pissy and angry and disobedient. Still, ugh. And now he is an absolute joy. So have hope! Your patience and endurance may be tested right now but it really can get so much better.

[Christine]

I'm so sorry to hear of your loss. I had a few minor Loises in my life, but my real Lois, was a Dori. She was (and hopefully still continues to be) great.

Best wishes to you and the family as you get through the angsty last days of summer and first days of school.

[Erika]

Eight is just hard. The wanting to be independant, but still being a child. The moodiness already but not having the ability to understand what's going on. The physical and mental changes just starting to occur. It exhausts me to think about the teenage years. Just know you're not alone.

[Life of a Doctor's Wife]

I'm so sorry for your loss. I didn't have a Lois, but I did have a couple of teachers who seemed to see beyond the "kidness" and understand me as a person. That kind of understanding is invaluable. I'm glad you had it, and I hope it's out there for Henry as well.

[BuenoBaby]

Although we are strangers and live thousands of miles apart, we are probably watching Lost's final episodes by way of Netflix and breathing a sigh of relief that the day with 'the roommate' has concluded. Roommate. That's what we call our 12 year old. Long ago we realized that our home would never truly be ours alone again.

Also, I'm sorry for your loss. Grief and parenting don't always sit well together.

[hls]

Oh Alice, once again you stun me with your brilliant storytelling ... that magic ability to weave 2 seemingly unrelated topics together, to speak of Henry so that we all adore him (even if he's being rotten!), and address our universal need to be understood.
I am humbled and moved.
Yes, enough to comment not just lurk ...

[Robyn]

This is my favourite post of yours yet.

[Lynn]

Maybe this will sound trite, but: Pray. Pray for your child. It won't solve everything, but it fills your heart with the purity of feeling you have when he is a teeny tiny baby in your arms and hasn't yet figured out how to annoy the shit out of you.

I guess I like to believe that God sees our best selves and accepts the worse in us and forgives it, so if I can connect to that for my children, maybe I can for an eensty weensty second understand the meaning of unconditional love.

Is it Okay to mention praying here? Well, maybe you have no desire for advice or solutions, but I have felt like you the fear of inevitable alienation from my children and have often found prayer the only way to bring us closer, on a level minus the daily fights and struggles. And I'm not so afraid now.
Love and strength to you on the adolescence front.

[Leslie Hawkins]

My goodness, what you wrote about Lois was just beautiful. You are so talented!

" And believe me, I tried. I thought if anyone really got a look at me, they would find out how wrong I was, how hopeless and awful." This is the best description of that, that ... feeling I've read. I used to say that I don't hold up under scutiny.

Honestly, you know a part of Henry that no one else ever will. Keep describing it to him, so he'll start understanding himself before that inescapable time of self-doubt.

[Dragon]

I love it. Thank you for your honesty. I feel like I'm supposed help my Aspie daughter be her best self, and sometimes I just don't know what her best self is. It's just so hidden beneath all that anxiety and the screaming and the attitude.

[Lisame]

Well, let me tell you about 8. He was an asshole. 9 is a MUCH more likable kid. Just bear with 8. 9 is close. 9 you will like!

[Jeannie]

Alice -- you continue to strike me as such a good person and mother. I am impressed by your thoughtfulness and insight in living and mothering.

[Caroline Calcote]

I'm sorry for the loss of your friend and mentor. I remember what it was like when the rare adult treated me as an equal when I was a teenager. You never forget that, and thank you for reminding me to treat kids that way. It's so easy to forget what it was like to be young when you are in the throes of adulthood/parenthood yourself.

Oh, and I have a 9 year old so I totally relate to the foreshadowing of adolescence. It's going on in our house too, totally! Does "tween" start at 10? Whatever...so much drama and struggling for independence already!

[Jessica {Team Rasler}]

Sorry you lost someone special. It's always hard, no matter how expected it may be. Though the idea that I may not be the one who understands my boys someday, I will try to be like you and be wise enough to hope they find their own Lois, too. Thanks for the insight.

[Alexandra]

Oh, but just isn't that a loss? I'm so sorry.

[megansquared]

I had an English teacher like this for the last two years of high school. She was tough with me, and I didn't quite understand why. She didn't put up with any of my excuses or insecurities. One day, after turning in a late paper or some other sort of minor misbehavior, she asked me to stay after class. I thought she would yell at me.

Instead, she told me that she demanded more because I was talented and special and worthy of the hard work it would take to reach my potential. She understood my issues and insecurities, and instead of dismissing me as a problem child from a troubled home, she made me feel like I would amount to something. She made me believe that I WAS special and I WAS talented, and I DID deserve the world.

I wish she knew how much I appreciated her.

[Elizabeth]

Alice,

From reading your blog for several years, I have come to the conclusion that you are an excellent mom, most of all because you are "present" to your son with your time and your attention. That will go a long, long way toward him letting you know him. Even when he is going through difficult "growing pain" periods. Keep on keeping on. I think that you and Henry have and will continue to have a good relationship and will get past the inevitable rocky times.

Best to your family,
Elizabeth

[deetz]

That was so beautiful....