Growing Pains

At the risk of hurting the feelings of the hundred or so publicists who e-mail me press releases each week, I'll confess I hardly ever read them.

It's unlikely I'll write a column about how to keep the kids "learning and active during the holidays" (this is a problem that needs an expert?), or a new book on how to "unspoil" your child (just say no).

So I must send kudos to the publicist who wrote this eye-catching opening line: "What if the 'failure to launch' is actually an intelligent response to the challenges that today's young adults face?"

Perhaps it's the cultural observer in me that clicked open the e-mail, or more likely, the fact that my eldest daughter will graduate from college in the spring. Suffice to say, the words "failure to launch" and "intelligent response" used in the same sentence struck me as at least curious.

Turns out there's a new book that asserts today's 20-somethings are taking a "slower path to adulthood" and claims this is a good thing for them and for American society generally.

She's opinionated. She's controversial. She's a grizzly mama. And her outspoken comments about certain Americans are generating Twitter memes and death threats.

She's not Sarah Palin; she's Yale Law professor Amy Chua, author of the new book "Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother," a tell-all about her successful (and not-so-successful) use of "Chinese parenting" to raise her two daughters.

Released last week with an excerpt in the Wall Street Journal, Mrs. Chua's book has garnered the attention of parents, parenting experts and Asian-American culture observers thanks to her provocative assertions that Western parents are too concerned with our children's happiness, compared to "Chinese mothers" who, in her view, are correctly obsessed with their children's achievements and success.

Mrs. Chua uses the term "Chinese mothers" broadly to describe a stereotypically Asian style of authoritarian parenting. Compared to Western parents, she makes sweeping generalizations, such as that:

Only three shopping days left to find the perfect Christmas gift for your lovely teenage daughter. Need some ideas? A quick Google search turns up a "Top 10" list with "hot" suggestions for teen girls. Consider the Spa Sister Head to Toe Pampering Kit ($49.99 at Target) or perhaps a pair of chic leatherette (read: plastic) stilettos with a 4 1/2-inch heel - a bargain at just $15 at Forever 21.

Or, if your teen is a "gleek" (a geeked-out fan of the TV show "Glee," for you cave dwellers) buy the Glee Karaoke Revolution. At $59.99 from Game Stop, this game turns any Wii gaming system into a virtual recording studio where teens can belt out their favorite tunes performed on the show.

But heck, why give a teen girl the vicarious experience of warbling a show-stopping tune when you can just flip on the TV to watch an episode of "Glee" and instead give her the gift of a warped, hypersexual self-image just like what the female characters have on the show?

New research released last week from the Parents Television Council (PTC) reveals that on "Glee" and 24 other prime-time network TV programs, "underage girls are rapidly becoming the new female image of sexualization in the media." (Full disclosure: I'm a member of PTC's Advisory Board.)

It's not only the cultural observer, but the mom in me who is disturbed by the findings of the study, "Sexualized Teen Girls: Tinsel Town's New Target." Among the startling revelations:

A week ago, the tragic suicide of Rutgers University freshman Tyler Clementi prompted me and countless other columnists to consider the rising rates of bullying among our nation's youth and young adults.

Mr. Clementi was the apparent victim of an invasion of privacy, as a fellow student reportedly used a hidden camera to stream Mr. Clementi's sexual liaison over the Internet. The humiliation of this incident led to his decision to end his life by jumping off a bridge.

The nation is reeling from this and several other recent suicides attributed to ongoing bullying and harassment. Meanwhile, news stories of more incidents of bullying are becoming as regular as the weather report.

To wit: "Delaware Teen Knocks Over Portable Toilet With Boy Inside."

This time, according to the report, a 14-year-old bully threatened a group of 7-year-olds in a Newark, Del., park until one of them, in an attempt to defuse the threats, complied with the bully's demand that he enter a portable toilet. The older boy then knocked over the toilet, leaving the younger child screaming and covered in human waste.

Reports say the bully laughed and walked away while the victim's young companions scurried to get their pal out of the unit and find help.

The marching band, the tailgate parties, the chill in the air and even fireworks when the home team scored a touchdown — all the trappings of a perfect college football game created a magical parents weekend on our daughter's university campus.

But while we mingled casually with her friends and their families, the students at Rutgers University were forced to entertain an unwelcome visitor to their campus: Grief.

Last week, Rutgers freshman Tyler Clementi learned he had been videoed without his knowledge while engaged in a gay sexual encounter in the privacy of his dorm room. Authorities say the videographers were his roommate, Dharun Ravi, and another student, Molly Wei. Mr. Ravi set up a camera in the room so that he and Miss Wei could stream the video live online, police said.

Upon learning of his exploitation, Mr. Clementi sought redress through university housing authorities but apparently was emotionally unable to accept the public humiliation to which he had been subject. His Facebook status, "Jumping off the gw bridge sorry," conveys in its brevity his helpless desperation.

Even before I have the chance to stow my purse and kick off my sandals, my son pops into the room to ask: "What are the new rules?"

"Rules?"

"Yeah," he says. "I figured since the parent meeting at school was mandatory, they must be telling you about all sorts of new rules."

"Nope," I reassure him. "Same rules as before."

He can't imagine what administrators and parents would need to discuss if not some sort of complex rubric to define the various rings of hell one might be required to visit in the event of a behavioral lapse.

I explain that the meeting wasn't about school policy, but rather about the school's mission. "You might say it was a mission-effectiveness seminar for parents," I say.

He glazes over and then says, "Huh? Well, good night."

Several years ago, while unloading groceries, my son picked up a head of cauliflower and asked, "What's this?" For the record, no one ever pointed to boxed macaroni and cheese and asked about the contents. I'm embarrassed to admit the mac and cheese was a staple around our house for too long.

Sometimes, lessons in parenting come in subtle but significant moments. "What is cauliflower?" was the moment I realized I hadn't done enough to incorporate a variety of fruits and vegetables into our family's diet.

I'd been under the misguided impression that children simply wouldn't eat Brussels sprouts or edamame or hummus. When I started buying those things, sure enough I proved myself wrong. Children will eat anything, especially if they're hungry.

There's a case to be made that a principal job of parents is to help our children toward an understanding of what is and is not possible.

Typically, the practical application of this notion sounds like this: "Sure, it's possible your iPod will still work after spending three months in a snowbank."

Or, "Make it onto 'American Idol' at 16? Um … sure … why not? Anything's possible."

I'm not one to crush a child's hopes with something as unreliable as mere reality.

Eventually, as they grow, children learn that possibilities can be manufactured with imagination, effort, planning and perseverance. In all four of our children, we've seen the spectrum of what is possible blossom into life goals that we secretly wonder how they'll ever accomplish.

Sexist as this will sound (read: please don't e-mail me to say I am sexist, because obviously I already know), when it comes to raising our only son, we think it's especially important to create two avenues of possibility for his future consideration:

It was a moment of weakness, and it didn't last long.

My college freshman almost had me convinced that I ought to change the house rules for her younger sister.

The logic sounded reasonable, the timing seemed right, and I could almost envision myself jumping into the minivan and driving to the cellular store to pick out an inexpensive cell phone for Amy, my 12-year-old.

Then, in a fit of common sense, I spent 20 minutes on one of those Mommy-blogger sites. Simply perusing the headlines reminded me of all the reasons why we don't get cell phones for our children until they hit high school. Ditto for Facebook.

"There's no 3 in texting," one story is headlined. "A new way to monitor kids on Facebook," is another. "How to REALLY talk to your kids about cyberbullying," offers another.

Not to mention all the stories about teens, tweens, technology and sex, an alarming connection in today's culture.

Now, before you get defensive and start telling me all the reasons why these things are safe and appropriate for our children, know that I'm not judging your house rules. We're just not changing ours.

Driving across town recently, I counted no fewer than a dozen cars sporting those annoying bumper stickers. No, not "Got tofu?" The ones that say, "My child is an honor student at such-and-such school."

Based on their bumpers, it seems most of the children in town are on the honor roll. Either I live in a place where high achievers breed like mosquitoes in a swamp, or those stickers are not difficult to come by.

The truth is, the bumper sticker that ought to be slapped on the back of a minivan or two is: "My child was sent to the principal's office."

I'm not holding my breath.