I Never Metaphor I Didn’t Like

Before touring a wilderness therapy program in Hawaii this past March, my wife and I arrived a day early so that we could enjoy the sights of the big island. One of our tourist stops was Volcano National Park. My wife, the science teacher, began explaining about volcano bombs, magma, fault lines, and lava flow. When I heard her description and saw the extent of the volcano, I was convinced that nothing could ever grow where the molten rocks had flowed. Surely the devastation would be endless and forever. What could ever grow where there had been temperatures high enough to melt rocks?

Yet there were trees everywhere. Growing out of black rocks, growing out of the bleak and desolate landscape, were trees. My wife pointed out that after the volcano destroys everything in its path, new, rich soil is left behind out of which new growth springs forth. Young plants that would not have had a chance of survival in the plush forest can now thrive.

This regrowth out of rocky devastation reminds me of a self-destructive adolescent whose drug and alcohol use can be so out of control that the smart money would predict that nothing positive could ever result. A 16 year-old who usually refuses to go to school and does no work when he does show up, a young man who blames everything and everyone rather than looking inward, what hope is there? Is it possible to get past the anger and oppositionality? Can a productive, content life ever follow? These young men have diets that consist of potato chips and ice cream rather than whole grains, bananas, carrots, and celery. Rather than conversations and meaningful interactions with other people, these young people play “Shoot, Shoot, Shoot, Blood, Blood, Blood, Kill, Kill, Kill” hour after tedious hour.

But from this unhealthy diet and stunted growth can come rebirth. Like the trees growing on the barren lava fields, it takes a little luck and a lot of hard work for roots to take hold. A significant change of landscape is required frequently requiring wilderness therapy followed by therapeutic boarding school, but transformative positive change in possible.

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That’s it for the newsletter for this week. The take away? That even the most damaged kids have a shot at healthy, productive lives.

Oh, and one more point: All meaningful learning is metaphorical.

In the description above, the analogy “an unhealthy diet of salt and sugar isn’t as healthy as one of fruits and vegetables” makes the point that connecting with actual people is healthier than suckling on a video game. The metaphor of a tree growing in rocky soil speaks to the defiant young man getting healthy in a new environment. Imagine these points without the metaphors. It’s not about good writing; it’s about adequate communication.

Not only do actions speak louder than words, words don’t mean anything at all unless backed up by information our children can process. And our children seldom process words.

That’s why we have to take our kids places–hiking and camping in the mountains if we can afford the time away from work and the cost of airfare or to the park at the edge of town if our time and finances are more limited. “I love you and would do anything for you” is a nice sentence. Sitting silently watching the sun go down over the mountains conveys the same information in a significantly more powerful and visceral way.

Consider the following communication: “You can do it; I have faith in you; I trust your judgment; I will never give up on you.” But when the child tries to do anything, the parent is right there to make sure the task gets done properly–whether or not the child is involved. As has often been said: self-esteem doesn’t come from never failing; self-esteem comes from overcoming failure. Sure, it’s hard to watch your ten year-old child trying repeatedly to build a fire. But if you can watch her try and fail, try and fail, you will communicate to her that you believe she can persevere and succeed. By watching her fail, you let her know that she can succeed without you jumping in and doing the task for her.

And isn’t that message–that you believe in her, that you know she can do it without your help–what you wanted her to know in the first place?