An Easter Tip for Next Year

 Appeared in the Idaho State Journal on April 11, 2021

I’m late to the game for an Easter column, but for parents and care-givers of teens or tweens this one might just stick with you for the next 11.5 months. I hope so. 

As I have found myself in the category “Parent of Teen/Tween”, my capacity for seeking and accepting parenting tips has increased at a rate directly proportional to the young’uns’ hormones.  If you’ve got something that worked magic with your spawn or your partner’s spawn, I’m all ears.  

My own experience as a child naturally models how I parent, including what I work to replicate and what I work to avoid. Compared to my own mother, however, there are three main differences in my parenting situation today.

First, I am an only child. I do not understand sibling dynamics. Even after years of knowing our kids, it’s a mystery when I’ve seen one of them haul off and hit another and then minutes later be huddled up together on the couch giggling at You Tube videos. What is that? Will I always view this sling-shotting of animosity and forgiveness with complete wonder? I’m positive that my lack of familiarity with the nuances of sibling relationships has led me to mis-parent a number of circumstances.

Secondly, my mom was a single parent.  I saw my dad on weekends here or there until I was 13 when he died, but he never really “parented.”  The two sides of that sword were that Mom didn’t have someone else to deal with – or count on. I’ve got a solid tag-team situation where there are other parents I can count on and get invaluable perspectives from. We don’t always agree in our assessments or next steps, but we have a solid foundation on which those conversations can take place. When challenges or disagreements among adults surface, I’ve come to look it as a workout to make me a stronger, better person. I have no doubt that skills honed in co-parenting could solve all of the world’s problems.

The third element in my parenting role that differs from what I grew up with is that I do not share genetic material with these kids. Through my mom’s social work experience, there was a lot of discussion in my house about adoption and foster families and the joys and challenges of raising kids that didn’t “come from you,” but frankly I was naïve not to take a closer look at how being a step-parent or “bonus mom” might really play out in our family. As I have gotten to spend more time with the kids’ mom and dad, I see so much of them in each child. Really getting to know what brings their parents happiness or worry, what motivates them, and simply how their thought processes work have all helped me be a better parent to our kids.  

I thought the above introspection finally equipped me to parent in an effective and meaningful way and then BAM! We’ve got a teen and a tween at the same time. Holidays have become especially tricky as we figure out what to drag them through and what to let them opt out of; what to keep and what to let go.

This past Easter we kept dyeing eggs but let go of baskets. I told them we could raid the clearance Easter candy for disco
unts, and they were amenable to this change, right up until a bickerfest began as I got the eggs out of the fridge.  Siblings.

Thinking the boys were too old for cutesy critters and not wanting to mess with whatever the “tie dye” box had to offer, I grabbed a “Solar System” kit that had planet caricature wrap-arounds and a poster with planet trivia. Their tensions that seem to mimic planetary forces were assuaged as soon as we got into the kit and started to guess which wrap was which planet. Learning that Uranus spins on its side made that one easy. We figured the frowny face was Pluto because it had lost its planet status, and the eyelashes and bright red lipstick were a shoe-in for Venus. 

Pluto and Venus

The kids were in no hurry to find the hidden “planets” the next morning, but they were still talking about which are named after Roman gods and what their various wind speeds are. The solar system kit allowed us to keep our old tradition but with a new age-appropriate and engaging twist. I wrote the PAAS company an email to encourage them to continue making kits like this and to add to their product offering. I hope they heed my tip for next year because with a tween and a teen and a step parent who’s an only child trying to keep her axis steady, it was eggactly what our family needed this Easter.  

 

The Drop-off Line

Appeared in the Idaho State Journal on March 28, 1991.

This month marks the one year anniversary of our abrupt shift to working from home and online learning. The shut-down. Memories appear in snippets. My new home office. The kids’ new workspaces. My new 5 a.m. alarm to work before the kids wake. A new shopping routine. New food storage space in the basement. New masks. So much “new” that is a testament - newer isn’t better.

When the kids returned to school in the hybrid model last fall, our boys had in-person learning on Tuesdays and Fridays. The youngest’s school policy is that students not be dropped off before 7:45 a.m. because they will be unsupervised on the playground. We are stalwart 7:45-ers because I want to avoid the drop-off line and get going on my workday.

One day last fall, I was taking my time getting the kids out the door because I had a wave of productivity that morning and wasn’t feeling rushed. While fixing my to-go mug, I noticed our seventh grader with his backpack over the bulk of his coat, sitting at the kitchen table looking miserable. I asked what was wrong. With sad eyes and a sadder tone he said, “I’m missing out on time with my friends.” As his words sunk in, so did my regret.

The early drop-offs had become a lifeline. After months of no contact with his friends, that early morning time on the playground for two days a week brought him a joy and sense of connection that he’d been missing. I’ve felt the parental pangs of not being able to do enough for the kids during this pandemic, but getting him to school at 7:45 a.m. so he could have more time with friends was something I could do.

From that day on – through earlier wakeups, breakfast planning, easier lunch assembly and blazing over the Benton Street Overpass on occasion—I ensured he had that morning time with friends. Our routine allowed me to ease in to the parking lot and pull right up to the school. We exchanged our “I love yous” and “have a great days” before the drop-off line could form, and he exited the vehicle smoothly with smiles all around.

One day just before spring break, I was late. Bogged down by the memories of a year ago, I was slow-moving and caught myself processing it all. The smells in the air and the lighting in the sky brought it all back. I apologized on the way to school and explained my struggle. With maturity and grace, the seventh grader navigated his disappointment in me with his eager anticipation to play football with friends.

Because we were later, we hit the drop-off line at its peak. The drop-off line elicits emotions in me stretching from rage to empathy. I’m either in a hurry and impatient with people’s lollygagging or I enjoy sharing waves and smiles with familiar faces. When a family in front of us is chatting in the car while holding up the entire line, I either label them the most self-centered humans on earth or I imagine their kids having a rough morning and sincerely smile at them being coaxed out of the car. When I have to wait for more than seconds in the drop-off line, I could either write a stand-up routine or a anger-fueled manifesto that would land me on an FBI watch-list. There is no in-between.

As we stalled to a standstill in the drop-off line this week, I had time to watch. Parents followed the rules. Parents broke the rules. Kids scurried. Kids dawdled. Cars sped. Cars crawled. There was as much variation in peoples’ behaviors as there was in my head.

I wish the author(s) of the recent ISJ Editorial “No Time for a Victory Lap” could see what I was seeing. That editorial focused on all of the things that School District 25 officials need to do in the wake of the failed recall effort, and not on what we as a community need to do. The drop-off line is a great example. It’s all up to the parents and students to move things forward.

Calls for unity often focus on what the other party can do, but for thoughtful dialogue to happen, introspection is needed by all sides. Regarding the hot-button issues of the past few years involving school boundaries, the Indians mascot and pandemic-related decisions, every single one of us – myself included - could have done more listening, apologizing, back-spacing, researching, mediating, reconciling, showing up, and then listening some more.  

The quality of a school district does not only rely only on the leaders in charge but also the constituents engaged. The drop-off line is as good as any indicator out there. As we strive to move forward, Parents, we’ve got some work to do.

 

Lunch with Janie

 Appeared in the Idaho State Journal on March 7, 2021.

I checked my old emails to verify. I had lunch with Janie Gebhardt on May 29, 2017. It was Memorial Day almost four years ago. Janie had won the election to retain her seat on the School District 25 Board of Trustees two weeks prior. She is now facing a recall vote on Tuesday, and I think the voters – and Janie – deserve to have our lunch shared with a wider audience.

I contacted Janie to talk about my volunteer work in the high schools. At a minimum, I wanted someone on the school board to know what I was working on and my vision for the future. The “shoot for the moon” goal was to ask Janie if she thought I could ask the school board to help fund the work I was doing and if she would support me.  To be clear here, I was not asking Janie for anything other than her opinion and to consider talking to the rest of the board with me.  We both paid for our own meals.

When I first met Janie in the early 2000’s, she was the pastor at the United Church of Christ and involved in the Portneuf Valley Interfaith Fellowship (PVIF). The PVIF website explains: We are a diverse group of faith communities working together to better the community for the common good, both locally and globally. We recognize our diversity and encourage interfaith dialogue and respect.

I came to respect many of our local faith leaders for their efforts toward unity and understanding, and Janie was a huge part of this. As I saw her appreciation for diversity showcased in public discourse, she remained in my field of vision.

During the winter of 2014, a local sophomore, who had recently come out as gay, died by suicide. I was a weekly columnist for the Idaho State Journal at the time and had written a number of columns discussing my perspective as an Idaho-loving gay person who’s been fearful at times, experienced discrimination, but still wakes up finding things to love about our world. A teacher, who was struggling with the loss of her student and wondering how to support others in her classes, had seen some of my columns. She tracked me down on social media and asked if I would help her provide an avenue of support for gay, transgender and questioning students through a gay-straight alliance (GSA) club.  I had no idea how to go about this, and wasn’t convinced that it would be a good idea, but something was needed as more and more kids in our community are questioning their identities and coming out sooner.

I started volunteering with a high school GSA in the 2015-2016 school year.  We wanted a place to meet and to invite kids from other schools, so we brainstormed. When I played JV basketball, it was impossible for coaches to schedule gym time, so we practiced at a local church. Would that work here? I called Janie and asked if we could use the UCC space right behind Poky that included a kitchen and a gym to host kids each week. She not only let us use the building for free but also left books on my porch about how to organize activities with youth.

The details of my 2017 lunch discussion with Janie aren’t as important as the fact that after 90 minutes together, where we shared similar opinions, she said “no.”

I’m not sure if my point is to illustrate that Janie Gebhardt has made recommendations in her role on the school board that would side with a popular public opinion and conflict with her own (and that of a friend), or if my point is to somewhat self-righteously highlight that when I was told “no” by a member of the school board, I didn’t rush to claims that I wasn’t listened to and insist she be recalled.

Hearing “no” made me want to work even harder to do what I am doing and find other ways to get the job done. I’ve helped write grants, continued to brainstorm and network with teachers and just this week took seven pizzas to one of our high schools because kids are now able to meet again.  

I’ve seen a number of billboards supporting the recall and have had many discussions on social media.  I can’t help but think - the time and money spent on the organizing, arguing, planning and plotting could have been spent getting volunteer background checks, writing grants, brainstorming with teachers, and having pizza delivered to kids.

I don’t believe Janie has done anything to warrant a recall. I believe she does her best to parse the data in front of her and utilize her years of experience to make decisions. Recall elections aren’t in place to remove people with good intentions who make unpopular decisions. That’s what a regular election in November is for.