What Are You Saying?

A high school senior is explaining to her father where she intends to apply to college, how she is refining her search criteria. The student feels strongly that under no circumstances will she apply to Arizona State University. At 65,492 undergraduate students ASU is waaay too big, she says. A smaller institution is what she wants, one that will serve her academic needs better. She explains unequivocally and repeatedly that ASU is a non-starter, completely wrong, non-negotiable, a not happening with a capital no. Adamantly, almost sputtering, she mentions the unendurable high temperatures, the crime in Phoenix. ASU has 48 fraternities, she explains, too darn many. And what about their football team. In the past 97 match-ups against the University of Arizona, ASU has lost 51 times, has only won 45. See? I’ve done my research. I know what I’m talking about.

Whereas the University of Arizona has only 40,407 undergraduates, 28 fraternities instead of 45, and has (obviously) beaten ASU 51 times against only 45 losses.

Consider a recently arrived 12-year-old Martian who has been studying culture on Earth for 20 minutes. Even the adolescent Martian could determine that the student’s stated explanations are not the actual reasons she prefers the U of A to ASU. Yes, ASU has more undergrads than U of A. No, the student is unlikely to benefit from small classes or more personal attention as a result of 40,000 rather than 65,000 undergrads. What happened on the football field over the past 96 years can hardly be relevant to her current education; the difference in temperature between Phoenix and Tuscon is a distinction without a difference as both venues are significantly hot. Clearly the student wants to attend the U of A. She just hasn’t been honest with her dad for some reason. I don’t know where the Martian is applying.

As always, it’s the feeling underneath the words that matters.

And it is our responsibility as parents to at least have a clue as to what are children are thinking, what they’re not saying.

My best guess is that there’s something unattractive for her about ASU, a bully maybe, or a mean girl. Or there’s something attractive about U of A, a potential love interest perhaps. I don’t know—and admittedly the about situation is mostly fiction—but referencing football games from the 1930s is a fabricated excuse.

It reminds me of my favorite six-year-old. When he stops by our house, he walks straight to the cannister where we keep our package of M & M candy. He says, “I wonder what these taste like.”

Of course what he means is, “may I have some?”

And it’s easier to understand six-year-old-ese, more transparent than the machinations of adolescents.

I don’t know what Cyrano de Bergerac was going on about in Act II of Edmond Rostand’s 1897 play. Cyrano pontificates, spouts random verses, stabs any number of extras with brilliant sword play, blathers on like he’s high on cocaine. Cyrano has a lot to say and many verses to say it. He’s clearly overwrought. But his friend understands what going on beneath all the syllables. His friend says, “Tell this to all the world–And then to me, say very softly that… She loves you not.”

Admittedly it is easier to understand “I wonder what these taste like” and “she’ll never love me because I have a big nose” than “I don’t want to go to that university which to a first approximation is exactly similar to that other university. But if a 12-year-old recently emigrated Martian can figure it out, so can we.

Our job as loving parents is not only to take our beloved children at their word, but also to determine the feelings underneath the words. Or die trying. Even without picking up a sword and going up against Cyrano.