Uncommon Common Sense
Sunday May 19th 2013

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Five Suggested Rules for an 18 year old Living at Home

Eco­nom­ics are mak­ing it nec­es­sary for many adult chil­dren to return home to live.  Add to that the fact that legal eman­ci­pa­tion has been low­ered to an age when many young adults are still liv­ing at home, depen­dent upon their par­ents, and roles and rules can get pretty con­fus­ing.  More than one eighteen-year-old has said to his or her par­ents, “I’m an adult now and it is up to me how I live my life.”  That’s true, but only to a point, when you’re still sleep­ing in your child­hood bed.

In order to avoid con­fu­sion after they move back in, you may want to apply the fol­low­ing before they unpack, or even at 12:01 AM on their 18th birth­day, if you sense impend­ing problems:

1.  It is our  house.  We bought it, we paid for it, we keep it up and pay the bills.  We are in charge.  You are wel­come here, as part of the fam­ily, not as a boarder who has no con­nec­tion with us.  We are still your parents.  If it appears that you are not try­ing to make it on your own, we may set a time limit for your stay here.

2.  We set the house rules.  We won’t be unrea­son­able, but some things are non-negotiable.

Non-negotiables may include smok­ing, drink­ing or using drugs; mak­ing major changes in a room – such as wall paint; dri­ving cars with­out per­mis­sion; or expect­ing us to endorse a lifestyle that is con­trary to our beliefs.  Set­ting your own rules goes only so far, when you live in this house.  We will not lend finan­cial or moral sup­port to a lifestyle that resem­bles a soap opera.

Nego­tiables are things like which of your friends we are will­ing to feed, and how often; who does what laun­dry; and the gen­eral run­ning of the house­hold. We have our way of doing things and we won’t be unrea­son­able, but we don’t plan to make major alter­ations in our rou­tines with­out real need, or just because you are now a legal adult.

3.  Be con­sid­er­ate .  This is not a flop house and we may not have a maid, so leave kitchens and bath­rooms clean; don’t take con­trol of our elec­tron­ics; refrain from dis­repect­ful lan­guage, and don’t cause dis­sention among fam­ily mem­bers by a bad atti­tude.  We expect to be told your sched­ule, and when you will or won’t be home, because we care for you and we don’t want to worry.  In one way or another, rela­tion­ships come with strings attached, so don’t con­fuse cour­tesy with control.

4.  Con­tribute in some way.  It’s only fair.  We may not require rent from you (although we could) but we do expect you to con­tribute.  Mow the lawn, do the laun­dry or vac­uum.  Get cre­ative and find some­thing that will help us all out.  We’ll appre­ci­ate it and you will feel a lit­tle less like the depen­dent lit­tle kid who still lives at home.  If you refuse to come up with things by your own ini­tia­tive, we will give you some chores, just like we did years ago.

5.  Leave when the arrange­ment doesn’t suit you.  We love you and you are wel­come to live here under our pro­tec­tion and pro­vi­sion, as long as you are respon­si­ble and coop­er­a­tive.  We are pro­vid­ing for you out of parental love, and your accep­tance of our sup­port obliges you to adhere to cer­tain arrange­ments.  Your age allows you to leave any­time you aren’t happy.  If that hap­pens, don’t stick around, mak­ing life mis­er­able for every­one else, and don’t make it nec­es­sary to evict you.

Seven Things To Do If Your Child is Arrested

It could be a triffic cita­tion, or a felony, but you may be look­ing at charges against your child. The legal sys­tem can be con­fus­ing and intim­i­dat­ing, espe­cially when you are in shock, and pos­si­bly even embarrassed.

It’s nat­ural to feel alien­ated from the process since you don’t speak the legal lan­guage and pro­fes­sion­als can appear to be cold and mechan­i­cal. Still, there are ways to deal with these real­i­ties, and turn the sit­u­a­tion into a more pos­i­tive and valu­able learn­ing expe­ri­ence, par­tic­u­larly for your child. Here are some sug­ges­tions from a pro­ba­tion officer:

1. Don’t panic or over­re­act. If you do, you prob­a­bly won’t get all of the facts, nor will they be straight. It’s easy enough to shut down com­mu­ni­ca­tion with a teenager, and right now you need to know what hap­pened. Your child is most likely upset, either because he/she has been wrongly accused, or because they know they have done some­thing wrong and have to face it. You will find out more if you con­trol your reac­tions long enough to hear your child’s story, and it may take some gen­tle and patient prodding.

2. Address the issue of guilt or inno­cence.  The bot­tom line for your child is, “Did you do it?”  Don’t bad­ger, but ask clear, con­cise and rel­e­vant ques­tions.  After you have the facts, decide if your child is admit­ting or deny­ing the charge, then approach the mat­ter from that stance.  Nat­u­rally you should admit the truth, but not every­one who is accused is guilty.

It is not a good idea to deny charges that are true.  Not only will it drag things out, doing so will sug­gest to your child that hon­esty is not the best pol­icy and that the sys­tem is a game to be played and won, regard­less of the moral­ity involved.  It is absolutely the wrong mes­sage to give a teenager.

3.  Reas­sure your child.  One com­pli­ca­tion that arises from an arrest is the child’s fear that he/she has destroyed your con­fi­dence, love and respect.  Reas­sure them of your love and tell them (yes — tell them – don’t assume they know) that this sit­u­a­tion will not change that bond, even though you may not be happy with their behavior.

4.  Ask ques­tions.  By now you have already ques­tioned your child, so when you deal with the pro­fes­sion­als, don’t be afraid to ask some more.  Feel free to call tele­phone num­bers that are listed on the ticket, or the appoint­ment let­ter, and ask about the upcom­ing hear­ing.  If you can, speak to the offi­cer your child will be see­ing.  Get a feel­ing for the process and find out what you need to do to prepare.  When you do appear for the hear­ing, aks about any­thing you don’t under­stand.  No one will think you’re fool­ish, or stu­pid.  It’s easy for prac­ti­tion­ers to for­get what a shak­ing expe­ri­ence this is for most peo­ple.  Remind them that this is new to you.

5.  Don’t worry about what the neigh­bors will think.  They prob­a­bly aren’t aware any­way, since juve­nile mat­ters are gen­er­ally not open to pub­lic scrutiny.  Decide among fam­ily mem­bers what you will and won’t talk about out­side the home, then stick to it.  If you feel it is a sit­u­a­tion you need to share in order to gain strength, or to help oth­ers, then by all means, do so.

6.  Work with the author­i­ties.  Your rela­tion­ship with any peace offi­cer can make or break your child’s expe­ri­ence.  First, agree with them regard­ing com­mon goals, then coop­er­ate.  You can under­mine their efforts to redi­rect your child or you can help each other enforce the lim­its imposed.  But don’t abdi­cate your respon­si­bil­ity or your author­ity.  You are still the pri­mary care-giver.  If, for some rea­son, a pro­ba­tion offi­cer is assigned to your child and it isn’t work­ing, ask to speak to a super­vi­sor, and try to work things out.  But be objec­tive in your dis­cus­sion.  If you go in guns-a-blazing you may be con­sid­ered a hot-head and the super­vi­sor will auto­mat­i­cally assume you are to blame for the break­down, rather than tak­ing a look at the officer’s conduct.

7.  Approach the sit­u­a­tion with opti­mism and faith, if pos­si­ble.  You don’t want your child to “get off the hook” for some­thing he/she has done, but you do want them to learn some­thing.  Look for and encour­age wis­dom in the judge, the pro­ba­tion offi­cer, and any­one else with whom your child will come into con­tact.  This is not the last word in your child’s life, and you should expect things to get better.

Just a Thought …

Peo­ple who are brought up to believe they are the cen­ter of the uni­verse seem to have a hard time find­ing their place in the world.

One Talk Won’t Do It

A radio ad tells par­ents how impor­tant it is to talk to their chil­dren about drugs.  In the con­ver­sa­tion, a father tim­o­rously approaches his son, to have “the big drug talk,” only to find that the boy already knows all about them.  The father’s attempt is obvi­ously too late.

When Dad asks how the boy knows so much about drugs, he replies, non­cha­lantly, that he learned every­thing from his friends.  The mes­sage of the ad is, of course, that he would have been bet­ter off hear­ing it from his dad, had Dad made the effort and done so in time.  Through­out the dia­logue between the two, it is obvi­ous the son knows a whole lot more than Dad about drugs, and the impli­ca­tion is that it is prob­a­bly knowl­edge born of expe­ri­ence or, at least, from direct observation.

It is true that the issues of sub­stance abuse and moral­ity in gen­eral should be adressed by par­ents, but they are not top­ics that can be cov­ered in one well-timed chat.  A par­ent can­not sim­ply call Junior into the den, have a timid ten-minute con­ver­sa­tion  and expect it to pre­pare him for today’s world. Read the rest of this entry »

12 Step Forgiveness

Sev­eral years ago a man came to the pro­ba­tion office to see me.  He was in a twelve-step recov­ery pro­gram for sub­stance abuse, and said we had some unfin­ished busi­ness from when he was on my case­load, three years earlier. 

He apol­o­gized for how badly he had behaved and admit­ted that, at the time, he would go to any extremes to use alco­hol and drugs and couldn’t have cared less about how he treated peo­ple, espe­cially me, his pro­ba­tion offi­cer.  He wanted to beg my par­don and make right the wrongs he had done.  He added that I was only one of many peo­ple he had to face.  He also made it clear that his suc­cess in com­ing to grips with his past did not lie with my will­ing­ness to receive his apol­ogy, although that would be nice.  The impor­tant thing in his recov­ery was to make the effort.

The fact is, I didn’t remem­ber how he had behaved toward me.  Oh, cer­tainly I accepted his apol­ogy and was thrilled to praise him for his cur­rent efforts, but he was only one of an entire case­load, many of whom had been rude, had con­sis­tently lied to me or been manip­u­la­tive. Pro­ba­tion offi­cers even­tu­ally come to grips with the fact that it isn’t our fault and we try not to take it per­son­ally. Read the rest of this entry »

Can You Pledge to be Compassionate?

Accord­ing to a “Mail Online” arti­cle of March 6, 2010, an 11 year old boy died of dehy­dra­tion in a South Lon­don hos­pi­tal due to neglect by hos­pi­tal staff.  The arti­cle states that, at one point, the boy was “so des­per­ate for a drink that he rang police to beg for their help.”   When the police responded, they were told the boy was fine.

The arti­cle ends with, “This week a task force called on nurses to sign a pub­lic pledge that they will treat every­one with com­pas­sion and dig­nity.”  I find that inter­est­ing and, frankly, it makes me shake my head in won­der.  Do they really think that will take care of any problems?

Among other things, it is pos­si­ble that the staff is over­worked or that there are severe admin­is­tra­tive prob­lems, in which case a pledge won’t address the real issues.   But, more impor­tantly, if any of those staff mem­bers don’t have a true enough grasp of com­pas­sion — enough that it demands expres­sion in their behav­ior with­out a pledge - sign­ing their names won’t accom­plish any­thing.  That’s because the ideas them­selves may have no intrin­sic meaning.  How can you pledge to do some­thing you don’t truly “get”?

On the other hand, those who do have a gen­uine grasp of com­pas­sion, and who sin­cerely respect the dig­nity of oth­ers, don’t need to sign a pledge.  They will  nat­u­rally demon­strate such virtues because they are essen­tial to their character.

Donut Dollies Re-Unite

scan0001-3Surely it hasn’t been almost 40 years since I returned from Viet­nam.  Surely the inter­ven­ing years didn’t dis­ap­pear like smoke from a sum­mer camp­fire.  Surely the very real events of my youth haven’t already been rel­e­gated to the unre­al­ity of his­tory.  Surely not, yet I have in my hands a piece of paper that sug­gests oth­er­wise.   This week I received an invi­ta­tion to another Red Cross Donut Dolly reunion. 

The term “re-union” is par­tic­u­larly appro­pri­ate in this case because, as Red Cross recre­ation work­ers in a war zone, we were very much united in spirit and in pur­pose.  We were a team.  We were there for each other.  We cared and we were welded together by a once-in-a-lifetime expe­ri­ence that could never be for­got­ten.  Read the rest of this entry »

Those Inner Conflicts

bud-esther-abt 1940-coat & hatI think I was in col­lege when I real­ized that some of my inner con­flicts — you know, those lit­tle argu­ments we carry on within our­selves — were the con­flicts my par­ents had with each other. 

The Bud half of me would do some­thing to embar­rass or annoy the Esther half, and vice-versa, leav­ing me  feel­ing I was wrong, no mat­ter which “side” I chose.  My par­ents’ dis­agree­ments had some­how been fused into one per­son­al­ity trait that was now mine, too.  I was  able to carry on the dis­cord, all by myself.  By default it had become nec­es­sary for me to try to solve their issues.

Maybe this is just another way to “inherit” family traits.   Talk about genetic warfare …

A Name Is Not A Legacy

We were sip­ping cof­fee in Starbuck’s when I noticed “Luis” etched into the sur­face of our table.  Luis no doubt believed he was mak­ing a mean­ing­ful state­ment, but I sus­pect he didn’t think it through. 

Besides the mark in the table, Luis left a more telling impres­sion.  He left evi­dence of some­one who has no respect for other people’s prop­erty and who doesn’t ana­lyze his own behav­ior.  Had he done so, he might have real­ized such a tem­po­ral mark would, in the long run, mean noth­ing.  It is not a pos­i­tive legacy to will­fully dam­age some­thing, and leav­ing one’s name on an object that will, within a rel­a­tively short period of time, either be refin­ished or dis­carded as junk, does not impart immortality.      

As far as I’m con­cerned, graf­fiti is the human equiv­a­lent of dogs mark­ing tires and fire hydrants.  For ani­mals, it is a use­ful act based on instinct.  For peo­ple, it’s sense­less, waste­ful and demean­ing.  Besides the inap­pro­pri­ate­ness of this par­tic­u­lar act, how­ever, I was struck by some­thing else with regard to the gen­eral human need to be noticed and remem­bered.  Read the rest of this entry »

What’s “Self Esteem” Got to do with Probation?

I think our fix­a­tion on “self esteem” has affected the way pro­ba­tion offi­cers approach the prob­lem of crime and has even con­tributed to our lack of success.

The pri­mary job of sworn peace offi­cers, includ­ing pro­ba­tion, is to keep the com­mu­nity safe.  Period.  Assist­ing offend­ers is sec­ondary to that mis­sion.  How­ever, because we believe in treat­ment, we tend to think our pri­mary objec­tive is to trans­form and renew the nature of those on our case­loads.  We assume that we must make offend­ers see them­selves and their world dif­fer­ently before they can alter their anti­so­cial conduct.

The truth is, in order to change how we feel, we must first change what we do, and the same applies to felons.  Wait­ing until they “feel” dif­fer­ent before we expect them to act dif­fer­ently usu­ally doesn’t work.  It’s too much like post­pon­ing a reli­gious con­ver­sion until we feel worthy—it never comes about because it’s too dif­fi­cult to accept grace when you feel so bad about your­self. Read the rest of this entry »

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