I Sat in Front with His Mom

Put yourselves in the shoes I was wearing in eighth grade for a moment. I went to a private school that had only recently gone coed. There were six boys for every girl. The school still had dances, but there was no "sister school" invited to participate jointly any more. My lone effort to get a "date" for the dance from another school was preempted by a scheduling conflict before the young lady in question even needed to think about whether to turn me down gently or use the opportunity to humiliate me into never calling again.

My friend Ken's mother was my ride to and from the dance. When she pulled up, she and Ken were not alone in the car. Ken was sitting in the back seat with Marla. I had not met Marla before, but I knew her by reputation. Marla was uniquely adored by eighth grade boys at the local public middle school. She was kind, emotionally healthy, socially confident, and (of course) beautiful ... very, very beautiful. And that evening her beauty was highlighted by the dress, light makeup and other personal grooming that her mother (no doubt) put into making her evening with Ken enchanted and the pre-event photos a treasured family memory.

Riding in the front passenger seat next to Ken's mom, I felt like I was wearing a dunce cap. For me, the dance proved humiliatingly uneventful. One guy brought his sister along and I got to dance with her once: To Private Idaho, I think. Otherwise I chit-chatted with my friends and enjoyed the music. Ken spent the evening introducing Marla to his friends and teachers like he was a brave, handsome, well-liked fighter pilot in a 1950s WWII movie making the rounds at the officers club to introduce his fiancé. Ken's road show was interrupted only to enjoy the slow dances with Marla's arms wrapped around his neck. During the ride home, things got quiet in the back seat. I turned to look and saw Marla sleeping (or at least pretending to sleep) leaning against Ken who had his eyes closed and his head tilted in Marla's direction. Ken's mom whispered we should be quiet and to let them sleep. I was happy for them. But I also felt the weight of the disparity between my evening and Ken's evening.

At the time I simply thought Ken was cooler than I was. I now believe with a high degree of certainty that (i) Ken had help from his parents, (ii) Marla had help from her parents, and (iii) even today most teens do not get the kind of help and training in social skills that Ken and Marla got from their parents. While proactive parents invest in developing the academic and athletic skills of their children, most have done nothing to give either a son or daughter the skills to pull off the wonderful evening Ken and Marla enjoyed.

There is one thing I haven't told you yet. Marla suffered from a chronic joint problem that made walking awkward. Dancing to Private Idaho was not even an option for Marla. That is why Ken and Marla only danced during the slow dances. That's right. The girl with the awkward walk was uniquely adored at her middle school. The girl effectively unable to dance had the social confidence to go to a dance at a school where she only knew her date. And she was able to carry it off like royalty. Likewise, my friend Ken had the empathy and social skills to have earned Marla's trust and to make his dance work for her. No whining. No bickering. No foolish bravado. No anxiety attack. Ken and Marla enjoyed the school dance and each other's company for the entire evening—until they perhaps literally fell asleep at one another’s side.

As a parent, I'd like both my son and my daughter to develop the skills to enjoy school dances and other events as well as make those events enjoyable for others. More importantly, those same social skills come into play in the most important adult interactions: Finding a spouse, finding a job, developing new friendships, making important professional connections, etc.

The story of Ken and Marla is now a family legend I tell and retell to my son and daughter. Unfortunately, I've lost touch with Ken and I never knew Marla well. There is so much I'd like to know about what their parents did to prepare them and to help them along. With or without that knowledge, I am doing what I can to ensure that my son and daughter each develop and know how to apply social skills and social confidence. After all, whenever it can be avoided, I do not want them ever feeling like they're wearing a dunce cap.