Tomorrow is the last day of school.
The award ceremonies are over.
My teens didn’t walk a stage.
They didn’t receive an award.
But some teens did.
I know because I’ve seen the photos.
You can’t miss them on Instagram.
It’s the achievement firestorm we experience every May. Moms flocking to flaunt their teen’s accomplishments. Accolades. Prizes. Awards. And certificates. Photos of teens and parents grinning from ear to ear. Success beaming from their eyes.
These are the teens excelling in life.
Those at the top of their class.
Those worthy of celebration.
Years ago I wanted a photo to post too.
I longed for my teens to get an award.
Any award, really. I didn’t care.
I just wanted to be part of the club.
I wanted my teens to be worthy of celebration.
Fast forward to today.
My daughter will end the semester with four Fs. She’s failing four out of six classes. She has been for months. We’ve known. It’s not a surprise.
And yet, here she and I are, grinning from ear to ear. Success beaming from our eyes on the eve of the last day of school.
But how? How can this be? Isn’t she the epitome of a teen that’s not excelling? Aren’t I the epitome of a mom that’s failing because I’m letting my daughter fail?
Maybe so.
But I don’t see it that way.
When I first saw an F notification on my phone, I checked in with her. I asked how things were going. I inquired if she needed help from me. She kindly refused.
This repeated week after week. Month after month. I knew she was struggling. She’s a freshman at a new-to-her, very huge high school. The only good friend she’d made the first semester moved away during winter break. This left her starting the second semester lonely. She sat in her room a lot and shared very little. I was always aware of her. Curious and noticing what she did and what she said.
But instead of pushing her about the grades, I focused on her and me. Our desire to spend time together. Our conversations. Our bond. I wanted her to know I loved her no matter what her grades were. I chose to make connection priority one. I knew if it were present, everything else would fall into place. Eventually.
And it did. About six weeks ago she opened up. She shared how a group of girls in her PE class had been making fun of her. They mocked her for not having social media. For not wanting her photo taken in her bra and undies. For choosing to change in the bathroom stall for class. She was a prude that didn’t fit in. She knew it by how they treated her. She internalized it. It lowered her self-esteem and her failing grades were simply evidence of her suffering. These same girls were in her other classes – resulting in a coping strategy of shutting down and staying small to avoid their attention.
Everything made sense to me now. She shared freely. She recognized she was failing. She asked what to do. I offered suggestions of all the possibilities but allowed her to make decisions. She chose to email her counselor. She started trying again. She worked hard. But there wasn’t enough time to pull her grades up. She had too many zeros. So she signed up for summer school. On her own. She’s committed to applying herself. To see what she’s capable of. She’ll spend most of her summer break taking four online classes.
Just today she took her history final. She ran into the house after school looking for me. She’d scored an 86% on the test. She studied and studied last night. She knew no matter what she got, she’d still have an F. She knew summer school was a done deal, but she gave her all in spite of it.
This is why she and I are grinning from ear to ear tonight. She’s learned HOW to be successful, even though she didn’t meet the world’s standard of success. There’s no award for her. There’s no certificate with her name on it. There’s no stage for her to walk across. And I wouldn’t change any of it. She’s acquired skills many teens know nothing about. She’s traveled the depths and climbed her way out. There is no teen more worthy of accolades than she is. And so, as the school year ends tomorrow, we celebrate in our household. We celebrate four Fs. We celebrate a powerful mother-daughter connection that’s truly our greatest gift.
My friend, there’s always something special to be said of mothers raising teens that know HOW to be successful, not teens that are successful. Yes, there’s a difference. It’s subtle, but it’s everything. Be willing to be a mom that focuses on your teen’s journey, not just their final destination. And please, please, remember to never doubt the power of connection. It’s the miracle cure for everything that ails you and your teen. We’re living proof. You can be too. If you want to learn the steps to create a connection with your teenager, reply to this email and I’ll show you how.
