"A little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men."

- Willy Wonka

A teenager is a humanoid creature from another planet. Ha, just kidding. A teenager is a permanent alien visitor in an otherwise hormonally balanced household who drives, communicates telephonically, thinks Smashing Pumpkins is a musical group and has friends whose parents never seem to feed them dinner so they eat everything in our refrigerator.

Teenagehood, I was assured by my more elderly, experienced friends, was a time to be dreaded, like the plague. I was filled with images of my daughters becoming mutant ninja android Friday-the-13th creatures whose only purpose in life was to torture their mother and me. I'm pleased to be able to report that these fears were groundless. However, the teenage years were not without challenges. So, in the spirit of "helping others" journalism, here are some lessons learned for future parents of teenagers.

Sports.

I should have purchased stock in the local orthopedic medical office. Based on my youngest daughter's experience, I would have made a bundle. An example:

(Tuesday, 11 p.m.) Ring-a-ding. A sleepy "Hello?"

"Is this Most Beautiful One?"

"Yes. Who is this?"

"This is Mr. Thomas, Jaye's coach. I'm calling from Soccer Camp in West Virginia And, even though we're at the emergency hospital, Jaye is not too seriously injured."

Sharp elbow in my side. "Mike, wake up."

"Who is it?"

"Mr. Thomas."

"Why would I want an English muffin at 11 p.m.?"

"No, Jaye's soccer coach."

"Is she late for practice?"

"No, she got hurt. She's in the hospital."

"What's her coach doing in the hospital?"

"Never mind, Mike."

Jaye, it turned out, in a moment of unusual (for her) psycho-aggression placed herself in front of an opposing team's forward (800 pounds, 6 foot 14 inches) who was preparing to kick the ball into Tennessee. Instead, the girl drilled it (the ball, not the state) into Jaye's rib cage. Jaye's coach, knowing he wouldn't have to pay any future hospital bills, immediately assigned her a new nickname, Tiger. Just what I needed, an injury-prone daughter with the moniker Tiger.

"It hurts when I laugh, Dad."

"Well, maybe you should do your Buddhist chant more consistently this summer like you did during the school year."

"But, it hurts when I chant, Dad."

"Well, maybe you should play a non-contact sport like reading."

"But, I love soccer."

"You spend a lot of time in casts."

"Didn't you tell me to challenge myself?"

Jaye, a new high school freshman, had expressed an interest in field hockey. I offered to hit her in the head with her hockey stick, thus sparing her a semester of after-school practices and more serious injuries.

"Not funny," she declared.

Buddhism explains that each human being has his or her own unique karma and, therefore, unique mission in this life. So, while parents should try to set a good example for their children and provide them with thoughtful guidance, we each have to step back and allow them to face their own challenges…make their own mistakes so that they can do their human revolution. One of the most emotionally difficult aspects of being the parent of a teenager is knowing when to step in and when to let go.

Curfew.

Many of my older daughter Meg's friends have curfews. A curfew is a specific time established by parental authority figures so the parents can get a good night's sleep without wondering where their teenager is between the hours of, say, midnight and next year. Much to other parents' amazement, our daughter had no curfew. Why, you ask?

a. Because we trust her judgment.
b. She's much smarter than we were at that age.
c. She probably won't do anything worse than we did.
d. All the above.

The correct answer is d. We did have an agreed upon time on weekend evenings that she had to call to let us know that she was alive, that she did not elope with an armed radical urban warrior, and the time she would be home. We lay awake in bed waiting for this call. She thought this was pretty funny. Of course, she also thought it was pretty funny that I was losing most of my hair. Someday, we told her, you might have a teenage child and a balding husband and then your concepts of humor will change. She thought that was hysterical.

The telephone.

If I had a therapist back then, I'm sure she would have explained my inferiority complex on the fact that 47 of every 50 phone calls at our house were for my daughters. The phone never used to ring for Most Beautiful One and me. We got our calls (messages) via call waiting. "Can my Dad call you back in a few minutes, Mr. Clinton? I'm on the other line with a friend."

Parents should respect the privacy of their children and not listen in to their personal conversations. But, do you have any idea how frustrating it is to hear:

"She did what with who? Oh, my God! Well, you know I actually…."
(Interruption followed by,)

"Dad, will you hang up the phone, I'm taking it upstairs."

I did some fairly advanced research on the relationship between teenagers and their telephone habits. Jaye left her things-soccer shoes, homework, and spaceships-all over the house. During a typical phone conversation, she wandered from room to room searching for something without hanging up the previous receiver. Our family used to spend hours scouring the house for the off-the-hook phone.

Meg, on the other hand, viewed the transmitter as the conversational equivalent of a bullhorn. It is no coincidence that this is now referred to in some circles as a meg-a-phone. I once overheard her talking excitedly about something that happened at school while driving my car over two miles away. (She doesn't realize it, but I still hear all her secrets even when she hides in her old bedroom with the portable phone.) Rats! She just read this. Now she's in the guest bathroom talking to her friend with the exhaust fan running.

Nagging.

Teenagers should be proud. After all, they are the hope for the future of humankind. But also, they serve a vital function in society today-they give us parents countless things to complain about.

Nagging children is an art. But like any creative endeavor, it can be overdone. (At least I think so.) Both Meg and Jaye learned to roll their eyes, truly a future career enhancing ability, as a result of my constant reminder to remove their clothes from our bathroom floor and their mother's weekly "put away your laundry." It had taken 25 years for Most Beautiful One to transform me from a teenage slob into a neat and tidy person. So, while I wholeheartedly believe a father should share 100 percent of all parental responsibilities, I drew the line at nagging about neatness. Entering Jaye's room at night was a mystical journey back to my own messy childhood. It took up to 20 minutes to find her. I loved it! Anyway, we try not to pester our kids too much, but hey, no one's perfect!

Peer pressure.

Most Beautiful One and I had dinner with two of our closest friends John and Mary (not Tim and Nina's real names). In 1994, they had already known our family for 12 years. We discussed the tremendous peer pressures faced by our children. They were surrounded by other youth engaged in many types of nonproductive behavior. Our friends remarked that they had seen the positive influence of our Buddhist practice on our family values. They believed this provided Meg and Jaye with the self-confidence necessary to make wise judgments both in the people they associated with and the types of activities they engaged in. Now that they are both in their twenties, I can see that this was definitely the case. Meg and Jaye both have well-developed self-images. This has given them the confidence to make fun of me on a daily basis.

They are also aware of the importance of the spiritual side of their lives. It is clear to me that to be effective a religion must not be anti-humanistic or so restrictive that it refuses to encourage a respect for diversity and open mindedness in young people. It must also enable individuals to take constructive action toward their own happiness and the advancement of peace.

In his book, the Way of Youth, Daisaku Ikeda said, "I have made it one of my aims to help young people to have hope and confidence in their future. I myself have infinite trust in young people, and so I say to them: You are the hope of humanity! Each of you has a bright future ahead. Each of you has a precious potential waiting to be developed. Your success, your victory will be a victory for all of us. Your victory will lead the way in this century, the century of peace and humanity, the most important century for all humankind."

Fortunately, parents don't have to be perfect. But, children-even teenagers-do watch what their parents do as opposed to what they say. It's always been more important for me to challenge my own life and continue to strive to do my human revolution than to lecture my daughters on what they should be doing. We need to show our children that they can make a positive impact on the world. That's the real challenge of being a parent. And setting the example is the best way to accomplish this…at least until our children return to their home planet!

© 2001 Michael Lisagor