Dear Parents:

What We Wish Parents Knew about
Being a Teenager Today

Most parents remember what it was like to be a teenager—often with surprising clarity. But despite their best efforts, they can’t always relate to what their teen is experiencing now because each generation faces a new set of challenges. Here’s what seven kids said they wished their parents understood about being a teen today. “Parents just don’t understand” has been a favorite motto for teenagers for generations. And the mother of four will hear from her fifteen-year-old daughter the same complaint she remembers making of her own mother not so very long ago. Can the teenage experience really change all that much in twenty or thirty years?

Being a teenager can be a painful experience. While high school may be filled with fun activities—dating, dancing, football games—teens also have to deal with peer pressure, gossip, and humiliation in all its forms. Sometimes the ugliness of it all is enough to make a student change schools, just to have a chance of making it through the day.

Over the years, those experiences are put into perspective. You’re able to see that not having a date to prom didn’t actually ruin your life, that that bully had his own demons to face, and that life did go on after you flunked that biology test. You see how you grew through those experiences, and, often, how reacting differently to them at the time could have made them less painful. But in the moment, it really was like the world was crashing down around you, and you probably didn’t believe it when your parents tried to convince you otherwise.

Knowing all of this helps you to sympathize with others. As a friend or mentor, you can talk with an understanding of what those experiences feel like and give advice to those in the midst of adversity. Your wisdom becomes a comfort to those around you. But for some reason, it doesn’t work the same way with your own children. It seems there is so much emotion involved in the parent-child relationship, so many expectations, fears, and hopes, on both sides, that things simply don’t work the way they do in other relationships.

While it can be difficult to see your children moving away from you, it helps to realize that that is what you’ve been working toward since they were born. You are not trying to raise your kids to be kids, but to be responsible, intelligent adults—adults that can think for themselves and form their own opinions. The transition from child to adult can be a painful one for everyone involved, but it is important to realize that your children are individuals. They have to learn to deal with a lot of things on their own, and they often feel smothered when they aren’t allowed to make their own decisions. At the same time, they aren’t adults. They need you to guide them.

Parents do not become obsolete when their kids turn thirteen. On the contrary, kids run into larger and more complicated problems than ever before during their teenage years, and they will need a parent to turn to. The most important thing a parent can do for their teenagers is to be open and available. While they have a lot to say, most teens find it difficult to talk to their parents. Whatever the reason—a fear of disappointing their parents, causing an argument, or just the awkwardness that may come in saying things their parents don’t expect—it helps if parents can make themselves as approachable as possible.

In hopes of bridging the gap, we asked teens to open up and tell us what they wish their parents knew. While their responses are as varied as their personalities, they all seem to center on a similar theme, expressing both gratitude and frustration. While most of them won’t say it as often as you’d like, they do appreciate all that you do. They even recognize that the rules you give them are helping to make them better, healthier people. They know they need you, even if they won’t always admit it. Good parents are in the midst of a balancing act, advising their teen when necessary, but ultimately allowing him to make his own decisions and be his own person.

Bryan, 15, Riverside, California I want my parents to know that I am an individual. I don’t really think that they take me for myself, because sometimes they only let me be what they want me to be. If I could tell them anything, it would be to just let me go. I understand where they’re coming from because I am their kid, but it’s just like, “Loosen the leash there, Bub.” Although, to be honest, if they weren’t being kind of constricting, I don’t think I would be the same person, because they make me aware of what I should and should not do.

Claire, 18, Albuquerque, New Mexico I will readily admit that I don’t know everything. No one does. But I happen to know some people who profess that they do. Their names are Mom and Dad. And while I love them dearly, I wish they knew a few more things that I know. I wish that they knew exactly how hard it is to be a righteous, unshakable LDS kid today. They’ve told me stories about when they were teenagers (I know, scary, huh?), and it’s amazing that kids who did drugs, drank, watched porn, and cheated were in the minority. All those things were quite common practices at my high school, and while they were still behaviors that were frowned on, they were also accepted as “the norm,” and not surprising. I wish my parents knew how hard it is to meet people who are really nice and funny at first until you discover that they pummel their bodies with drugs and alcohol on the weekends, or see women as objects and not people, or like to tell stories about their promiscuity in great detail. And above all, how just about everyone accepts it and even sometimes expects it. I also wish my parents knew that even if I roll my eyes at their humor and run out the door every night to hang out with someone besides the family, they’re still in the back of my mind. I enjoy spending time with people I can relate to because of their age, but I won’t be friends with them forever. I’ll move away for college and leave again sometime after that, and I’ll fall out of touch with hundreds of friends. But I’ll always have the same family. I could leave the country for ten years and could still guarantee I’d have someone waiting at the airport for me when I got back; they’d be there. Because even though I don’t spend the majority of my time with them, they love me, they’re my family, and we’re gonna be together forever. I need them to be my parents, not my friends, because if they’re the latter, where can I go when I have a problem I can’t talk about with my friends?

Zach, 17, Hawaii I wish my parents knew how much I care about them. I hardly ever express heartfelt appreciation towards them, not because I don’t care or because the appreciation isn’t due, but simply because I am unable to properly express my feelings. It’s almost like they do so much for me that I’ll never be able to pay them back. Because I know that appreciatory phrases will never suffice, I don’t say them. I know that words will never make up for all that my parents do for me. I feel so uncomfortable that I just don’t say anything. I wish I could tell my parents I loved them without feeling awkward inside. I know I love them, I just can’t express it. It has come to the point where saying “I love you” would be a surprise, and therefore the phrase would draw attention. Usually attention is a good thing, but when the attention is on something awkward, it’s a nightmare. It’s gotten so bad that I almost didn’t write this. It’s gotten so bad that I don’t want my parents to know this even exists. But inside, I want them to know that even though I don’t act like it all the time, I really do care about them. Jennifer, 14, Moreno Valley, California Parents: they can be supportive and caring, but to most teens they’re thought to be overprotective and nosy. Well, my parents are none of the above. I would like for my parents to find things, besides my mistakes, to be interesting. To take part in my excitement that I passed the high school exit exam, and got a B- on a math test. To make a long story short, I’d like them to take some part in my life, besides the parts where I am wrong. Being trusted may go too far, but being believed isn’t. Yes, I have lied and probably will later on, but not about everything. I can be believed, but what would make it easier would be for them to actually hear me out. I want them to listen to what I have to say, whether it’s an opinion or a thought—even if it’s a lie. I would also like it if I didn’t have to change who I am for them, to make them happy, while I’m left in the dust miserable and hating. I know that I want these things to happen, but I also know that they aren’t going to happen. So if they aren’t going to care, except when I’m wrong, then I want them to not care at all.

Emma, 15, Verdale, Washington I wish my parents knew more about me. Sometimes I’ll be sitting in the car and my parents will ask about my day. I’ll talk to them, but I will not tell them about everything. I won’t tell them about my friends, boys, or problems at school because I know how they will react—and it is the same every time. Getting the same response every time is really irritating to me. So instead of telling my parents about everything, I just think, “Why bother?” Because of my attitude, my parents see me as just another distant teenager, and it seems they don’t trust me as much. Sometimes I do try to talk to my parents, but it seems like they don’t even try to relate to me. I know that they were kids once, and I’m sure they had some of the same experiences that I am having as a teenager. I even think that I share some of the same dreams for the future that they had. But my parents never talk about their childhood, and they make it very difficult for me to find any kind of common ground with them. I also find it frustrating sometimes what my parents want for me is not what I always want for myself. I know my parents only want the best for me, but sometimes I want to choose for myself (as long as I never abuse my agency). I want to show my parents that when I can choose for myself I will make the right choice.

Jake, 18, Yorba Linda, CA When I hear the question, “What do you wish your parents knew about you?” my mind automatically thinks that there are a lot of things to say, but, when I really dig deep, there are only a few things. I’d definitely be comfortable saying that I have a healthy relationship with my parents. But not that healthy, because I’m a teenage boy and keep most of my answers to one word or perhaps even an occasional grunt. My parents may think that I don’t appreciate them, when in reality I’m only frustrated by the phrasing of the question. Just the way they ask me sometimes makes me not even want to say anything, so I then in turn give them a grunt. The funny thing is, I really do want to talk to them, but I just don’t know how, and I don’t want to explain to them the reasoning for why I’m into the things I’m into and why I think certain things are funny. I just don’t think they’d understand. So the one thing I’d want my parents to know is that I’m trying to communicate, but it usually just comes out in the wrong way. Maria, 17, Verdale, Washington I want my parents to know that I am ignorant about a lot of things, and in order to learn, I need them to show me how to do things—at least once. My parents act like I should already know that when I put a package of popcorn in the microwave for five minutes (like the package instructs) that it will burn. My question is: How am I supposed to know that popcorn is best cooked for two minutes and not five if I am never taught? I don’t understand how I am supposed to automatically know how to fill out financial aid papers, cook dinner, or wash laundry if I am never taught how. It seems to me that there are a lot of things that appear so simple to adults, and so they assume that their kids already understand these things. The truth is, the adults had to learn how to wash their dirty clothes, and so do their kids.

I’ve heard stories of kids who go to college and don’t know how to clean and cook. I’ve also heard adults question why kids don’t take advantage of opportunities like scholarships. I would guess that kids don’t know how to cook and don’t apply for more scholarships simply because they don’t know how, not because they lack the desire.

LDS Living, Sept/Oct Issue