What's Right with Today's Teenagers?

I remember having so much pent up energy when I was fourteen years old. My mother and my own children don't know this, but I got in trouble almost every week in Sunday School due to fidgety hands and influencing my newfound mischievous friend Michelle Clawson to distract the teacher with our hand games and abbreviated cheerleading moves. We couldn't contain ourselves, and the extra attention from the frazzled teacher was fodder for our expressions of dexterity. We progressed from the Sunday School teacher to the youth leaders as they tried to corral us into performing as Hukilau dancers in a musical extravaganza meant to unify the congregation. We would last on stage just long enough for the dance, and the rest of the time we would practice more cheerleading moves (this time with full-body effect), chase younger boys or harass the other girls who were going along with the program.

I don't know why I behaved this way in ninth grade. I had been painfully shy all my life--the teachers even said so on my elementary school report cards. In the first two years of middle school I only focused on being a perfect, straight A student. Ninth grade was the first and only year I got a B+, it was time to get my wiggles out. Luckily, the adults around me stayed positive, especially my mom. My father had passed away unexpectedly three years earlier, and my sisters were headed off to college; my brother had started to find his own friends. By junior year, we moved again and I was feeling quite alone. Changing high schools was sobering for an energetic girl who had finally come out of her shell. I had to reinvent myself again, this time finding connections through community service. Volunteering with other girls my age at El Camino Hospital gave me confidence, even though it was only once a week. Returning to school the next day I wouldn't worry so much if I sat alone or with too few friends in the quad at lunch; I knew I was needed someplace else, just a few miles away at the same hospital where I was born and where my father died.

I didn't realize the healing effect of my "candy striper" experience until last fall when I was training for a long cycling event and I rode past El Camino Hospital countless times on my way to the foothills of Los Altos. I could hear Mom's encouragement to go ahead and sign up as a volunteer: "I used to be a 'pink lady' [adults in the auxiliary], you should try it." Until recently, I still had the candy striper uniform in my memory chest, with the name tag pinned to it. That time in high school was the beginning of my realization that we are never alone, even when times are bleak; reaching out to others in need can make us forget our troubles, even if for only two hours a week. Sometimes that's enough.

These days, as I observe the good works around me, I am astounded by the energy and intelligence of the youth at Palo Alto High School. Three decades ago, at nearby Homestead, I knew of only a handful of students who did volunteer work, and just two or three clubs on campus that sought to make an impact through service. This generation is different; they are motivated to change the world in creative and thoughtful ways, whether individually or in their club activities. Some have accumulated over four hundred hours of community service, with activities like raising guide dogs, taking care of cancer patients, or producing shows for the community Media Center. Others have traveled to far away places over the summer: Afghanistan to build schools, Sri Lanka to help women in poverty, and Japan to coach young soccer players. Most of these students are pursuing their interests, not merely racking up hours for credit; all are learning about other's needs and forgetting their own.

Teens who volunteer have the same challenges as the rest of us, but they are empowered to solve problems and to remain flexible when encountering the vast array of unfulfilled needs beyond the world of high school. How can a student truly understand the devastation of Hurricane Katrina without actually visiting the region and realizing that his own efforts can encourage others his age to help? That was the inspiration for Jake, who went on to start "American Disaster Relief," a Paly club that looks and sounds more like a national humanitarian organization. With Jake's intelligence and ability to rally his friends, maybe someday it will become such.

Some students track their hours for credit on their transcripts, or to earn the President's Award for Community Service; the most passionate students I know, however, have no idea how much time they've spent. The idea of an award embarrasses them, but I wish they could be convinced. With the help of a parent volunteer and her son, Paly student Charles Zhang, we've been able to organize and track the community service hours of several hundred Paly students who applied for the President's Award during the last two years. This semester at Palo Alto High School, eighty-two students received the bronze award for 100-174 hours of service, fourteen received silver for 175-249 hours, and twenty-six earned gold for 250 or more hours (14-year-olds and younger get gold for 100 hours). At California's current $8.00 minimum wage, these students would have generated a base of $143,261 in labor alone. This is what's right with our teens today; maybe they don't worry about tomorrow as much as the baby boomers, but they do make the world a better place by sharing their time and talents freely in the community. They put their energy into making a difference.

Vigilance

The train crossing near my home became a mourning place during the last six months, as four local teens chose to end their lives on separate occasions. The first one, in May, devastated me so much that my blog "Stop, Look, and Listen" was dedicated to the subject of reaching out to others and trying to find a place where we are needed in the world. Movies like Patch Adams come to mind, a story based on the true life devastation of someone who eventually found himself through giving to others. I am one of those who found herself through reaching out to resources around me; it wasn't easy, especially when I experienced personal crises and sometimes found it hard to just get out of bed. Service is not a cure-all, fix-all, but it can help, as we strive to connect with others--especially when things are bad.

In response to the tragedies at the train crossing, a group of dedicated parents and community members formed a group called "Track Watch," to keep a constant eye on the crossing and let the students know there are caring adults who want to make sure more teens won't succumb to this violent end. I spoke with one of the parents recently, as she sat bundled up in her fleece jacket and ear muffs, a lawn chair nearby. Her husband drove up with hot cocoa. She had signed up to volunteer because she knew one of the students who had passed away, and she just wanted to do something to show she cared. Other parents joined the ranks for similar reasons; they felt a connection to the lives of these young people and wanted to make a difference in the outcome of the tragedies. With the round-the-clock vigil since the last suicide, I felt a sense of care and warmth every time I crossed those tracks in my car or on my bike.

The Palo Alto Police Department has now placed private security patrols at the crossing, but I miss the sweet feelings of concern I perceived from the volunteer parents who came to stand vigil night and day for over a month. Palo Alto Track Watch is still working with area professionals and agencies, with an emphasis on gathering resources and information where high school students and their families can go for help. The volunteer focus has changed slightly, leaving observation of the crossing to the paid security guards, but the mission has not: saving lives by vigilance.

• To find out more about Track Watch in Palo Alto, CA: http://paloaltotrackwatch.weebly.com/links.html

Making Memories

Some holidays are meant to be remembered more than others. Last Thanksgiving wasn't my favorite because my family was apart, so I was determined this year we would celebrate life's bounties together. My mother, "Grammie Joan," decided to host a gathering in idyllic Sun Valley, Idaho, where we used to spend our summer and winter vacations. My two grown children, Brody and Sheridan, drove there from Salt Lake City, while the girls and I journeyed from the Bay Area in a caravan with my brother's family. We had a blissful time at the foot of Bald Mountain skating, bowling, and even skiing on thirty inches of early season man-made snow. My kids often tease me for seizing impromptu photo opportunities with very few technical skills on a digital camera. I keep taking the photos, but never have the time to download them from the camera or manage them on my computer. What ever happened to Kodachrome?

After ineptly attempting to capture some of our Sun Valley memories throughout the weekend, on our last night I realized this trip was my chance to get a good family photo for holiday cards and gifts. There was no time to schedule a professional, but I had noticed at the skating rink that my brother-in-law, Courtney, has recently taken up a new hobby. He carried around his large Nikon lens while the rest of us snapped candids with our pocket-sized Costco specials. A surgeon in his early fifties, he somehow finds the time to tinker. I don't like to ask people for favors, and I rarely ask him; I didn't think he could spare the time on his much-deserved vacation. Happily, Courtney agreed to follow me and my children outside along the snow-lined walkway on a starlit early-winter night.

My sister Katie (whom I call "Martha Stewart"), offered to come along as the photographer's assistant and facilitate to be sure we looked model-quality with the main lodge for a backdrop. Kate is our family's style maven, so I was very happy to have her along. She and her sweet husband shared their good works and photography talents to create a special shot of me and my four children before Christmas. Even better, Courtney did not delay in sending me the product of his efforts. He followed through by immediately downloading the photos to my laptop, so now I have serious motivation to put those cards together on time!

Do you have a passion for photography? Our high school has an amazing photo program, thanks to a very dedicated and talented teacher, Margo Wixsom. However, as Dr. Clyde will attest, it doesn't matter if you are trained; you can do good works with photography if you simply devote the time. Ansel Adams, the prolific California photographer of the last century, dedicated some of his earliest work in the 1930s to wilderness preservation of the Yosemite Valley. Thanks to his book, "Sierra Nevada: The John Muir Trail" and his work with the Sierra Club to promote public awareness through breathtaking photos, Yosemite was designated a national park in 1940. Whether you publish a groundbreaking book and testify before Congress, as Mr. Adams did, or take photos of your extended family and friends over the holidays, your well-trained eye can serve those around you. But be sure to share those photos, and don't just keep them on the laptop like I tend to do.

Creative Service Ideas with Photography

• Make greeting cards for the elderly. Take a nature walk near your home and get photos of the beauty around you. Print the pictures at home, or at an inexpensive photo lab (I use Costco). Use a paper cutter to fit your photos to size and glue to the outside of plain paper cards or folded cardstock with envelopes. Distribute your homespun cards as singles or in sets of 5 to the elderly in a nearby care center. My church group recently donated handmade cards to Meals on Wheels, and they were a huge hit! We included stamps, but a bag with a special pen would also be a nice touch.

• Host a charity photo shoot for the cause of your choice. The Advanced Photography class at Palo Alto High School recently joined the Olevolos Club on campus to support the Olevolos orphans in Arusha, Tanzania, www.theolevolosproject.org. A $40 tax deductible donation is requested in exchange for a portrait with the donor's dog and his or her best friend by Palo Alto photographer Cathy Gregory. For examples of this project, check out: www.cathylens.com/Notforprofit.html .

A Football Player's Wife Who Believes in the Power of Youth

Since the death of her husband, Marie Tillman has dedicated herself to promoting civic engagement and leadership, especially for youth and young adults. The annual "Pat's Run," will draw over 20,000 runners in Tempe, AZ in the Spring. It's a great volunteer opportunity for teens to support the runners, raise money for the Pat Tillman Foundation, or participate in the 4.2 mile race or .42 mile kids race (Pat was number 42 for the Cardinals). The South San Jose event was canceled for 2010, but may be back before too long. Read more about Marie's endeavors in this recent article commemorating women who make a difference, "Redbook Heroes: Strength & Spirit Awards." Then find out more about the foundation that promotes good works, leadership, and community involvement. College students are encouraged develop their own projects with grants from the foundation's Social Action Fund. The Arizona State Tillman Scholars Program provides quality service-learning curriculum and training: "We challenge the leaders of tomorrow to apply their passions and talents to promote positive change in their communities today."

"The Pat Tillman Foundation was established to carry forward Pat’s legacy of leadership and civic action by supporting future generations of leaders who embody the American tradition of citizen service."

• The 5 Most Inspiring Women You've Never Heard Of
• www.pattillmanfoundation.org
• http://www.facebook.com/pages/Pat-Tillman-Foundation-Official/50359342416

Sliding for Life

I went to Salt Lake City last weekend for several reasons: to help my daughter Meredith get more information about the University of Utah, to celebrate her seventeenth birthday and my son Brody's twenty-fourth, and to attend a training meeting for my little seasonal job as a ski instructor. I stayed with my daughter Sheridan, a twenty-year-old sophomore at the University. Through a stroke of bad luck, her car was vandalized last week so I had to rent a vehicle to get around. Looking for the best deal, I went to Costco Travel and chose the "special value" mid-size from Avis. The little red Chevrolet HHR looked a bit like a PT Cruiser, and made me feel a lot more conspicuous than I ever wanted to be!

After enjoying the start of the trip with three of my four children, I planned to get to the Snowbird returning staff meeting early Saturday morning to complete paperwork and visit all my old fellow instructors over bagels. In my haste to drive up the canyon, I failed to check the weather report. The light dusting of snow going out to the parking lot did serve to remind me that winter is almost here, but there is never really that much snow until later in the month of November. I tootled up the windy canyon, taking in the gorgeous views of granite cliffs along the way. About a mile from my destination at the top, the snow started to fall more heavily. I hadn't heard about a big storm on it's way so I was unfazed...until I started sliding every which-way. With this realization of a car inept in the slightest accumulation on the road, I started praying and sending positive vibrations to Mother Nature: "Please help me get out of here," I whispered, walking into the Snowbird Center.

The weather gods could not turn back. Mid-way through our five-hour meeting, the head of Mountain Operations looked out the window as he spoke: "If any of you haven't noticed, it's puking out there so if you drove up in a Volkswagen bug with bald tires you're in big trouble!" Uh-oh, that was the classification I fell into--those of us naive enough to make the drive in anything other than a Subaru. What was I thinking? By now, there was a six-inch swath of snow outside the tall glass windows in the conference room. "How do you get a cheap little rental car down a narrow canyon in a snowstorm, call a tow truck? Come back another day?" My options were limited. I looked around the room at all of my colleagues, some of whom I've known for ten years since I started there. Nearly all of them drive four-wheel-drive cars; surely I could catch a safer ride.

I thought about Carol, who always had a heart, and informed her of my concern, “Would you mind giving me a ride down the canyon if my car is stuck?” She seemed to understand; she had loaded a shovel into the all-wheel-drive car she came in —just in case. Carol was prepared.

I did manage to rock back and forth until the red rental was free of the snowdrift that had been my parking place just a few hours earlier. I pulled up at a snail’s pace to Carol and her son, “Could you just watch and see if I make it up that hill to the main road? If I do, it would be great to have someone follow me, just in case I start sliding again." They seemed relaxed and happy to help: "Go for it, we’ll watch and then follow.”

I gave it some gas, reminding myself, Don’t worry, it’s just like sledding! Somehow the momentum carried the little car straight up the slippery entrance and stopped without crashing into the line of cars waiting to go down. Whew! Now it’s time for a guardian angel as I attempt to keep this thing on the road. Carol’s son vigilantly pulled his white Volvo right in behind me and maintained a comforting distance. Two cars ahead, an older Mercedes was having the same trouble, but it was heavy enough to get some traction. I tried to make myself feel very heavy, remembering the sandbags I used to put in the back of the Volkswagen in the winter. The Mercedes driver didn’t care that he was holding up canyon traffic at 10 mph; I was thankful it didn’t have to be me in front.

All the way down the canyon I hyper-focused on the road condition, shifted the transmission from drive to low gear, and constantly checked for the white knight in my rearview mirror. The radio played soft Christmas pop songs and the cell phone remained quiet. I tried to maintain the slow, forward motion of the car without touching the bumper in front of me and without sliding out of the tire tracks worn from the other cars. The snowplows hadn’t yet made it yet to this stretch. If I even started to think about anything other than controlling that car, I slid again either forward or sideways, with steep cliffs reminding me of the many deadly wrecks I’ve seen there, impatient drivers passing in a storm or forgetting to slow down on the ice. I wondered what Carol and her son thought about my brake lights constantly tapping, the only way to keep a car from sliding in the muck. Just seeing that there was someone who knew me and cared about my safety, following right behind, gave me courage to keep tapping and sliding, eight miles an hour, then ten. The Christmas carols reminded me of what’s important in the world. “Just get there in one piece, no matter how long it takes,” I told myself.

After passing the last of four avalanche control gates, I saw the valley floor, and I felt the snow soften under the skinny tires and soon it turned to water. I knew my guardian angels in the all-wheel drive would turn west to go home, and I would go north to meet my daughter Sheridan. How could I thank these caring people who escorted me down? Did they have any idea how poorly my car handled, or how scared I was, and what a beacon they were just driving behind me? I didn’t have Carol’s number, but I’m determined to find it. Their preparedness gave them the confidence and ability to bless and comfort my life on Saturday as I slid my way down the mountain. Next time, I think I’ll hitch a ride with someone who is prepared!

Interested in safety and preparedness? Try these cool connections:

• Participate in National Preparedness Month (September) http://www.ncjrs.gov/safetyandpreparedness/volunteer.html
• Read the Preparedness Blog: http://incaseofemergencyblog.com/
  
• Check out this list of preparedness agencies: http://www.disastercenter.com/agency.htm
• Join a training organization such as North America Outdoor Institute: http://www.naoiak.org/
• Start a club at your school or in your community, such as ours at Palo Alto High School: http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=25446731877
  

Breakfast by Grace

Today was another challenging day in my career of many hats. I couldn’t seem to find a way to keep up with the workload in the Attendance Office, I mostly missed the monthly staff birthday party due to a glitch with my time card, which was due last Tuesday, and I was over the top with my job as Career Advisor/Community Service Coordinator. I had to spend my own money to order President’s Community Service awards for students I barely know, begging the treasurer to reimburse me sooner than later. On top of all this, my daughter Grace was home with a low-grade fever and sore throat, and later the guy in HR gave me a very animated, terse lecture to remind me that I am a nobody at the district so I should be happy for whatever I get. It felt like the book, “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.”

I arrived home a little early, hoping to wolf down a much-deserved 3:00 p.m. lunch before trekking across the Dunbarton Bridge for a 6:00 p.m. Southwest flight with my “almost” 18-year-old, Meredith, for a college visit. As I pulled into the driveway, I realized that the yard waste trash container was still sitting on the sidewalk a day after the truck came. The same weekly message played in my mind, “Can’t anyone else see that the other two cans have been brought in already, and it’s their turn, not mine?” And another small irritation after my hectic day, “The paper is still sitting on the driveway!” I had asked Grace to bring the Mercury News inside this morning so the neighbor who sometimes helps himself, assuming we’re out of town, would not see it. My insides began to churn as I reflected on the battles of the day: too much work to juggle, not enough pay to survive, giving until it hurts, teenagers who don’t always seem to understand.

When I walked into the house, I saw dirty dishes still on the counter from this morning, the frying pan left cold on the stove. “Grrrrr,” I seethed, “more messes for me to clean up, or to convince someone else around here that they need to pitch in.” That’s when it came to me, my good work observation for the day. Even though Grace wasn’t feeling well this morning, she knew I was running late. She had asked me to touch base with her friend Daisy’s mom to arrange a weekend sleepover while I’m away. When I responded that I was running out of time before the flight this evening, she offered to make breakfast for both of us. She could have poured me a bowl of cereal as I dashed out the door, or quickly plopped an egg into the pan and laid it on a plate; even a slice of bread would have done the trick. But, our family’s budding chef, who earned all A’s and A pluses in middle school cooking class, methodically toasted, fried, and sizzled until she had concocted for this hurried mom a succulent breakfast sandwich dripping with melted cheese.

As I remembered munching the sandwich made with love by “Chef Gracie,” while putting on makeup and tying shoelaces in between bites, I thought about my coworker Carolyn’s words later during lunchtime when all the kids were in the quad and we were still working. “Why am I doing this?” I said, venting about the guy at the district. She pointed out the window to the hundreds gathered on the lawn on a gently warm, November day. “Because of them!” And that’s exactly what it’s all about, the energy and promise of youth. Grace may need to be reminded about the trash cans, the paper, and that I only have so many hours in a day, but she has a heart of gold that shines brightest when she cooks.

This is my daughter's passion, and she shares it often, making our lives a little nicer with her special breakfast sandwiches, French toast, and occasional Swedish pancakes. I felt inspired today by her good works on my behalf, and energized to carry on in my effort to provide more opportunities for others at the high school to reach out. Teenagers have enriched my life, whether in my own home or in the community. When they find something they enjoy and use that drive to do kind acts of service large and small, the world becomes less daunting, less like a place from which I need to escape to Australia, and more like a place I call home.

Is your passion cooking and food?

Think about the ways you can make a difference:

• Get your school club or friends together to prepare a meal for a local shelter. Remember to call the volunteer coordinator or facility manager about a month ahead of time to get specifics on number of people and types of foods requested.
  

• Call a local food bank and arrange a time to sort food, remember to schedule about a month or two ahead, and take some friends to make it more fun! You can also arrange a collection drive by passing out flyers at your school or in your neighborhood, with a specific date when you will pick up the food. Remember to request canned soup and protein-rich foods.
  

• Contact the nearest Ronald McDonald House to prepare a home-cooked meal for families with children staying in the hospital. See “30 Ways in 30 Days:” http://rmhc.org/how-you-can-help/volunteer/30-ways-in-30-days/prepare-and-serve-a-home-cooked-meal/

Pep Talk

My daughter Grace and I had a little meeting with her U.S. Government teacher, Mr. Blackburn, today. I expected to go into his classroom after school and possibly be reprimanded for not micromanaging my daughter enough, for not checking the teacher's website on a daily basis, and for overall lack of disciplining my sophomore student. It's not that Mr. Blackburn's teaching style is such, but the community where I live tends to promote helicopter parenting. We baby boomers are good at that. Luckily for Grace, and for me, I was dealt a few more challenges than I could handle as a single parent so there's no time for tracing the very steps of my four children. All I can do is encourage them to do their best work.

Mr. Blackburn must have been a motivational speaker in his former life. As I prefaced our conference with the challenges of this past month in our home and their effect on Grace, he looked right at my spunky teenager and gave her exactly the connection she needed. He let her know that he genuinely believed in her. There was no shame or deposition, merely a candid discussion of choices and how one's best performance in school can open doors later in life. This teacher is beyond generous with his time, and not shy about sharing his own story of under-performance in high school. He even promises to pique the students' curiosity by including in the course curriculum his real-life example of brushing with the law.

Teaching well can be learned in a credential program, but truly influencing a young person's life requires the ability to understand the nature of the individual. As Mr. Blackburn confided to us today, he would not be a very good teacher if he did not care deeply about each student in his five classes. He told Grace how happy he was for the choices he made, even for the mistakes, that led him to the abundant life he now has. No teacher could say this without sincere dedication to the work of educating minds and hearts. I'm still a little concerned with the grade my youngest child will earn in U.S. Government, but merely sitting in that classroom this year is bound to be full of "life lessons," priceless morsels from a teacher who cares.