Today we had friends over for a bit of chanting and meditation.  As I was sitting in that age-old posture, I kept thinking about the rest of my life.  I want it to be both meaningful and free of stress.  Just being.  Last week I went for a drive in the Black Hills to give an hour-long presentation to a facility that “houses” young people in need.  The facility is part lock-up, part treatment, and part . . . I find I can’t finish the statement.  The question I had on my drive home was, “What do they need–really?”   When I first got there I was a little nervous as I realized that writing about adolescence-and standing and talking in front of 150 adolescents are two totally different things.  I wondered if I would be in touch enough to speak to them and not at them.  I wondered how they would receive what I had to say.  Then, as the counselors and demi-guards brought the groups of young men and women in, I wondered what I would end up saying that would be against the basic philosophy of this boot camp atmosphere. 

It didn’t take long, however, to just focus on their young faces and talk as straight as I could to them.  I talked about ancient rites of passage versus the leftovers we have in our modern culture that sometimes forces the young to “gang up” and try to initiate themselves.  I talked about challenges and tests and what happens when we gain the strength to go through them.  I asked them what they needed in order to be able to face those tests and challenges.  It was a powerful thing for me.  They gave me words backed up by need.  Money, jobs, knowledge, support, love, time, understanding.  Discipline.  Choices.

My question.  Are we creating a world where these kids in need can fill in those blanks? 

During the last fifteen minutes, I invited questions.  Most of the questions that came my way were about being a writer.  What motivated me, what discouraged me, how did I get interested in writing, how many books have I written . . .   Finally one young man asked me what made me want to come and speak to a group like theirs.  That question touched me.  I thought a moment and said, “I like young people.  I like your energy.  I like your questions.  I like your spirits.  I like you-and I want to see you bloom.”  At the end I invited the young people to write to me and tell me why they are there and what they want.  I told them I had this idea to do a kind of “teen monologue”, kind of like The Vagina Monologues but with a very young voice. 

Friday, I got 20 letters in my mailbox.  Milt and I sat and read every one.  Even though I realized that the letters had probably been “commanded” by the teacher or counselor, I was moved by their stories.  Since giving that talk my energy has been cycling around those young people.  I realized that my entire adult life has been focused around education, developing humans, adolescence, and what we can do to help them become strong, resilient adults.  My first job was in the “trouble” room at a middle school.  My second job was in an adolescent care center.  Both ended when I could see that the systems that employed me were not at all tuned into the young.  It hurt me to even be there-and it wasn’t great for the young people either. 

I don’t think I am too much of an idealist to think that we could take a new approach with American youth.  I don’t think it would hurt us to see them and work with them AS THEY ARE instead of criminalizing or diagnosing or sentencing them.  Damn, it frustrates me.

So, I think over the next however many days or weeks, I will post one of those letters (or portions of them) in my blog so you can hear from them, too.  And I plan to answer every letter that comes!  The beginnings of my “Teen Monologues.”

Stay tuned.

Jamie