From the desk of Trine Syverinsen, Educational Consultant
Jessie (not his real name) is sitting in my office. His parents have had a meeting with me earlier in the week, and now they have asked him to come in to see me. Last week Jessie stopped going to school. He spends most of the day at home, playing video games. When his parents come home, he leaves and spends the whole evening with friends that are mostly unknown to his parents. Lately he has also looked and acted as though he might be using drugs more than just occasionally. His parents are very worried, and have told him that this can not continue. Some things have to change.
Jessie is smart. He has the testing to prove it. He also has an attention deficit disorder (ADD) and a slow processing speed. Up until 5th grade he was at the top of his class academically. He was an early reader, verbal, social and charming. All the teachers liked him. For a while he was in a gifted program at school. As he entered middle school things got more challenging. His grades started slipping in the middle of the year, but then he always rallied and got them back up. After he started high school it took more and more for him to rally, but he was a great football player, and continued to work hard to be able to stay on the football team. Last week he dropped football practice as well, along with any other school activities.
I ask him what changed. He leans back, tilts his head and shrugs. He just didn’t feel like doing it anymore. He never did need to excel in school; it was always his parents who had high goals for him. Same goes for football. His dad used to play football, and always wanted him to. He had only really played football for the status it got him with the girls. And now he is done with being everybody’s puppet. He understands that his parents feel that some things have to change, but he really doesn’t see how they can. He could still get A’s if he studied all night, like the “losers” in his school do, but he just doesn’t feel like doing it. I get nowhere with Jessie during our session.
This is a common scenario at Bodin: Parents come in to see us with a concern for their teenager who is struggling in a multitude of ways – but what usually ignited their concern was the decline in school performance.
“We have reduced his schedule. He has dropped AP classes. He has no morning classes anymore. He only has to turn in his homework for the last few weeks and they will let him pass – and I found it in his backpack! He completed it, and did not turn it in!”
The parents and the school can not lower their expectations any further, and wonder why the student is refusing to put in this minimal effort to meet very basic expectations.
Often it is a snowball effect. Something is making it hard for the teenager to be successful in school. He or she responds by avoiding the problem and by spending more time involved in other, more pleasurable and easier activities. It gets harder and harder to keep up with the expectations, and the teenager responds by being more and more avoidant. So far it makes some sort of sense.
But what we also see is that teenagers (and young adults) who were not really struggling for that long, sometimes quite suddenly reach a point where they just “check out”. They go from average grades to failing several classes. Parents describe it as “he/she just woke up one morning a different kid”.
It is usually not that easy. More often than not, things have been difficult for both the teenager and the parents for a while, but they have all been coping. The difference now is the lack of attempt and effort from the young person.
And here is a partial explanation to consider. Success tastes good. Failure does not. For instance, to struggle with ADD/ADHD, or another learning difficulty, means to constantly put in a lot of work, and still often not meet the same goals as your friends. Many teenagers get an ADD/ADHD diagnosis late in their school career, and now they are supposed to start seeing themselves as different, maybe inferior, to many of their friends?
A lot of kids decide that it will both feel better and look better to just plain stop trying. This way, the reason you failed your classes was NOT because you tried your best but couldn’t do it, but rather because you just could not be bothered to put in the effort. Desired coolness factor hence achieved. And in one way, becoming the drop-out, the carefree, oppositional, oh-how-I-loathe-my-parents-character becomes a different venue for the feeling of success. If I can not be successful in the main academic high-school arena, I am going to be the best failure the school has seen this year.
There is no easy solution. But it helps to remember that failure does not feel good to anyone. If success was somewhat easily available to us, we would all choose that. And if somebody we know is choosing failure, it is more than likely that success has become too hard to achieve, and that as parents, caregivers and professionals we need to take a look at what is making it so hard.
Lowering the bar doesn’t usually help in these cases. Jessie knows the bar is low. Stupid low. And he is not stupid. He just doesn’t feel like getting over it, he says – and walks around.