Help teenagers to fit in





Most teens feel “different” in one way or another. Parents may understand their teens, but sometimes not in a way their children want them to. Here are some things to remember that may help parents understand their teens and help them to fit in:

+Remember, at this age friendships are very important. School is a teen’s home away from home and parents should be prepared to feel a little neglected at times. +Understand and accept that

teens can be a different person when they are at home or at school; when they are with family or with their friends.

+Allow teens to keep some of their thoughts to themselves. Whether they want to communicate or not, keep the lines open at all times.

+Remind young teens that everyone doesn’t have to like them and that socializing is a skill that gets better with practice.

This story provided by North American Precis Syndicate, Inc. a second-generation Italian, I’m not native to this region either. I would wager that most of us have ancestors who hailed from somewhere else so I’m not sure that’s relevant any more. As our families have taken root here, so has this persistent plant, which claims its place on our hillsides with absolute authority.

The United States Department of Agriculture considers field mustard a “noxious weed.” I see it as a lovely, tenacious statement of belonging. Doesn’t really matter where this beauty came from. It is here now and here to stay. The parallels to our diverse population are glaring.

The field mustard is palatable for grazing animals and for humans. The tiny mustard seeds, ground and mixed with water or vinegar, can be turned into the tangy condiment we slather on our hot dogs. Seeds can also be pressed to make mustard oil.

I remember how, as a child, I was urged to eat mustard greens gathered from open fields and simmered with olive oil and garlic. It’s something that’s still practiced in parts of Europe where the oil from wild mustard is also used for making soap and for cooking. Closer to home, as the local city limits stretched, the plots of mustard shrank. But still the older generation of aunts and uncles in my clan hiked through bare lots to harvest it.

We ate just the greens, not the blossoms. We called them “rapini” and as I recall they were bitter. They went into that category of things that were good for you that you’d rather skip at dinnertime. We also ate Swiss chard. We called that “weeds” and I remember they tasted even worse than the mustard greens.

With the passing of that generation, went the passing of that tradition.

But the plants remain. And as I pause a moment to look around me, I’m struck by the beauty.

For a time, during this fleeting springtime before the hills fade to brown and we start to watch for wildfires, we can enjoy the color on the hills as we enjoy a fire works display.

And I am humbled by the idea that no matter how carefully I cultivate my personal plot of land, nature reminds me that gardening is a spontaneous process and, ultimately, she does a better job of it.

We can manipulate our gardens, to an extent. But we are really just dabbling in a natural process that’s much bigger than us. Like a thunderstorm in August or the Santa Anas in October, the yellow hills of May remind me that we are, after all, just tiny witnesses to a very big world that functions despite us. So might as well sit back and enjoy the show.


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