10 dos and don'ts of dealing with teenagers

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Its not all about you

This article is of interest me looking back at my teenage years. I had a wonderful mother who I could talk to freely about anything, including sex. I remember my brother showing my mother his penis, retracting his foreskin because he was worried that he had VD ! Actually what had happened was there were spots around the rear of the shaft of the penis, which were actually the hair folicals erupting to allow the pubic hair to grow. Our mother was very good at dealing with us including discipline; in part this may have been due to the fact that my brother was a severe epileptic and was on some quite serious drugs (phenobarbitone, now a Classified drug, but up until the late 1970s' given out like sweets!) In fact it was only by fluke he got off the stuff following a trip to Germany with my mother to see my father (a merchant seaman. In those days you needed to have Smallpox, Polio, Typhoid. My brother (then 11) passed out. Having been brought round, as my mother and he were leaving, suddenly mum realised that he needed an interim prescription for the Phenobarbitone. The Doctor was shocked since the Neurologist in 1969 had prescibed the drug on a Sine Die basis, (which cannot be done to day) and since my brother had not had a fit since he was seven years old, had never been checked. He was was weened of the drug over the course of a year. It seems that talking to other people that my brother was one of the lucky ones since there were many in his age group who were not picked up in time and now irreversibly addicited. Getting back to the issues we had with our father, because he was away from home for three months at a time, and on leave for only three weeks, he could never grasp the difference between dealing with children as opposed to adults. This caused no end of problems with both my brother and I, always being critisied in the way we behaved, and in effect not allowed a proper childhood. What made matters worse was that his outbursts were unpredictable, and quite ofter his shouting led us to "take cover" to our bedrooms. One particular occasions was the night before my brother's O level exams. My father was telling our mum how bad we were, that my brother had a dreadful memory and would never succeed and that I would end up on the pile. Needless to say my brother failed all his O levels. What my father did not grasp was that Chris's memory had been damaged by a combintation of the drugs he had been on for too long, and the fits had caused scars on the brain where the memory is sited. He was always shouting at my brother for forgetting things and his ability to get lost. Again the issues regarding my brother's ability to get disorientated was down to the epilepsy, and to this day still has issues with losing things or getting lost. On one occasion my brother had forgotten where to meet dad and decided to walk home to be safe. This turned out to be a false move since when my father got home and found Chris there,shouted abuse at him, pulled down my brother's trousers and smacked him as hard as he could across his buttocks. My brother wriggled free and pulled a knife on my father. It was only then that my father realised what he had done. It probably comes as no surprise that neither my brother or I have trusted my father since and that we all live about a 100 miles away from eachother. The moral to this story is that there is a difference between a disciplinary slap, and outright abuse causing Actual Bodily Harm. In our day we did not have the likes of Child Line. There are ways of dealing with people, both adult and child, other than striking or shouting. As a parent you could find losing your child's trust in you permanent.