Leila began talking about transferring, at least for high school. Al took her to a private-school fair, and Leila soon set her sights on a boarding school in Massachusetts, an idea we weren’t high on from the start. Initially, we saw her interest as more of a test than a real option. If we voiced any concern over her leaving home, we feared it might strengthen her desire to go.
However, the more we talked to families with kids happily thriving at boarding school, the more interesting the idea became, especially this particular school. Its values and principles seemed to be aligned with ours, especially its spiritual perspective, which was important to us as a churchgoing family. But just as we were coming around, Leila began to back off the idea! Al’s reaction was, “Whew!” We dodged a bullet on that one!
Even so, the issue of changing schools still hadn’t been resolved.
Deborah soon gravitated toward another private school with a sterling reputation located just outside the city. While fiercely competitive, it felt a bit calmer and it had a thriving arts program. However, there was one thing we didn’t count on. Leila was becoming more and more passionate about theater. She had enrolled in a weekend theater program and loved it. The previous summer, she’d asked to go away to Stagedoor Manor, a fantastic performing arts camp located in the Catskill Mountains. The first time we saw Leila onstage, she revealed a strong and lovely singing voice, and we were blown away by her stage presence and evident joy. It was clear to us she had found herself, discovering a deep passion that left her confident and glowing. Even so, neither of us had anticipated that given the caliber of academic choices we’d placed in front of Leila, she’d come up with a wild card—the LaGuardia High School of Performing Arts, the so-called Fame school portrayed in the popular movie.
Leila first presented the idea of applying to LaGuardia to Al, who was fine with it. But when she broached the concept with Deborah, Deborah’s response was . . . less enthusiastic.
“Absolutely not!” she said.
“But, Mom!” Leila cried.
For Deborah, it wasn’t even a consideration. There were so many other great schools for Leila to consider. We had given her the choice of every top institution in and around Manhattan and she wanted to go to song-and-dance school? While a bit surprised, Al was a little more open to the idea.
“You’re not really serious, are you?” Deborah asked once or twice. “What about academics?”
The more she fought Leila, the more Leila pushed back.
Eventually we realized that if we didn’t listen to her now, we would surely pay a price for it later. Al made the argument that when he was in high school, his dream was to attend the New York School for Graphic Art & Design because of his interest in comic-book art and animation. His parents didn’t want him to spend his high school years drawing cartoons; they wanted him to get a fine education at a Jesuit high school and go on to college, so they insisted he attend Xavier. While it turned out terrifically, and he wouldn’t change a thing, he has often wondered what would have happened had he pursued his passion for animation and cartooning. He’s never forgotten how his parents’ decision made him feel. The more he thought about that, the more he knew we needed to give Leila this opportunity.
Deborah went to a small public school. She was a good student and a cheerleader and had a happy, active school life and wanted Leila to experience this kind of joy. But she also regretted that she hadn’t had competitive school choices and hadn’t been encouraged to apply to Ivy League colleges. Leila was studying world history and geometry in elementary school and reading classics like Steinbeck and Hemingway, works we never discovered until high school. She was getting a superior education, no doubt.
We kept hoping Leila would back down, give in and pick one of the other fine schools we’d lined up, but she didn’t. She pouted and pontificated to anyone and everyone about how she desperately wanted to go to LaGuardia and how her mom was standing in the way.
And, of course, once we started investigating, we discovered that it is actually an elite public school. There is likely no other performing arts school in the country of its caliber. Unlike most public schools, students are accepted based both on auditions in dance, drama, music and art and on their academic achievement and attendance records. Some famous and varied alumni from the school include Jennifer Aniston, Diahann Carroll, Al Pacino, Ben Vereen, Lola Falana and Isaac Mizrahi, just to name a few.
After giving it a lot of thought, we allowed Leila to go through the application process at LaGuardia on the condition that she also consider the other private school that we both felt strongly about. Our thinking was simple. The application process at LaGuardia was pretty rigorous. In fact, in some ways, it was more competitive than the private schools we’d been looking at. Plus, we’d heard there were twenty-seven hundred kids vying for the seventy open spots in the drama program. The odds would be daunting for any kid.
Leila never shared with us exactly what she chose to do for her audition. Perhaps that was her way of keeping the experience as her own. What we do know is that she worked very hard to prepare two pieces—a dramatic piece and a lighthearted comedic number. She was ready and excited when the big day came. Al was out of town, so Deborah drove Leila to her audition. This was poignant for both of them. Up until that point, Leila felt like her mother hadn’t been completely supportive. The drive that Saturday morning was a bonding experience for them.
Deborah will never forget the look on Leila’s face when she finished with her audition that day. She came out of the school beaming and ran straight into her mom’s arms. It was a proud and triumphant hug. This moment truly belonged to her. It was something she’d done on her own, and at that moment, we came together. I was so thrilled for her.
Once she auditioned, we came around to the notion that LaGuardia was a real possibility, because we suspected that Leila had killed it! Plus, we wanted to support her and we knew LaGuardia meant the world to her.
Meanwhile, lots of people began chiming in on whether or not this was a good path for Leila. Some felt it wasn’t looking toward Leila’s future while others thought it was great. Some thought leaving her prestigious private school would lessen her chances of going to an Ivy League college, while others pointed out that an Ivy League college might not be what Leila wants anyway. One old friend whose son had graduated from a top private school sneered, “Oh no . . . This can’t happen. No, no.”
Deborah’s own feelings of doubt were being fueled by the negative judgments. What would it say about us and about Leila to have her step away from the private-school world? All parents want to give their kids what they never had, and Deborah is no exception.
Al accepted Leila’s path. He understood that she wasn’t happy where she was and that switching to a similar school was unlikely to solve the problem. He was convinced that LaGuardia was the right choice—and that she would be accepted. He kept reminding Deborah that she ought to prepare herself for that possibility, because “it’s going to happen. Isn’t it more important for our child to be someplace where she feels fulfilled and successful, where she stands out a little more and is seen as terrific?”
His logic was so . . . logical. So balanced.
Meanwhile we headed south to Puerto Rico to thaw out during spring break and await the decision. We were lying by the pool when Al returned from a phone call. He sidled up to Leila, looking grim.
Leila sat upright. “What?” she asked with concern.
He broke into a grin. “You’re in at LaGuardia!” he declared proudly.
“Really? Really?” she asked through a broad grin, and then squealed with delight so loudly that fellow sunbathers looked at her with concern.
She was so excited and we were very happy for her. We loved seeing that joyful look on her face. She had gone after something she wanted and got it. We couldn’t have been prouder.
As we took in the good news, a solemn look fell over Deb
orah’s face. She was happy. And at the same time, she was also sad, because she knew Leila was going to pick LaGuardia.
“Why don’t we think about this for a few days, you know, let it sink in?” she said.
We could tell that Leila’s joy was turning as well. She certainly didn’t want to let either of us down, but she hadn’t come this far to make her decision based on what was best for her mom. She had to make it based on what was best for her.
Later that night, Leila came to us and explained that she had given it a lot of thought, and the private school was too much like the school she had chosen to leave. Maybe it was a little gentler, but if she was going to change schools, she wanted to make a serious change. Otherwise, she would just stay where she was. “Let’s face it. LaGuardia is totally different.”
Deborah let out an audible sigh. She was trying her best to disguise her feelings, but there was no hiding how she really felt.
When we got back to New York, Deborah tried one last time to convince Leila that the private school was a better choice. We invited Leila’s tutor to help us sort out the pros and cons; we thought it might be helpful to have a more impartial person in the discussion. We sat around the dining room table talking about the choices: staying at her current school, transferring to the other elite private school, or LaGuardia.
Everybody gave their opinions, but Deborah was really advocating for the private school and not hearing what others in the room were saying. She was almost lawyerly in her defense, and her argument boiled down to ABL: Anyplace But LaGuardia.
Al could feel Leila shutting down as Deborah went on and on, and he knew what was coming as we thanked the tutor and closed the front door after her. Leila, visibly upset, walked upstairs without a word.
Deborah followed her to her room, where Leila was brushing her teeth and tearing up. Then she unloaded. “You just dominated the meeting that was supposed to be about me figuring out what school I should go to. You know, it’s not about you. At the end of the day, it’s about me and what I want and what school I want to go to, and this is what I want. It’s not about you, Mom!”
And she was right.
That’s when Deborah thought about something Maria Shriver had said during a conference for women. “LIVE YOUR LIFE. Not one that someone has mapped out for you or that you envy. We can all find some measure of happiness when we feel comfortable to live our own lives and be who we are supposed to be.” What an important lesson for us to remember and pass on to our children.
If choosing LaGuardia made Leila a happier and more confident kid who felt like she could soar through high school instead of struggle, then forget what everyone else thought! If it meant we had a daughter who is fulfilled and happy, then this was the right choice. In fact, there wasn’t a better choice.
Leila was old enough, wise enough and tuned in enough to know what she wanted. We had to trust in her.
Deborah had been so caught up in placing her expectations on Leila that she’d forgotten to give her the leeway to have expectations for herself.
Deborah apologized to Leila.
Our daughter had truly figured out her path. And Deborah was ready to trust her.
As parents, we have to allow our children the room to learn and grow by making decisions about their lives that impact the direction in which they will go. Of course, we don’t want to allow them to veer too far off their path, and if we’ve done a good job, hopefully, they won’t fall as far as we think they will.
Leila knew what was right for her long before we did. Our job was to support her in her decision, even if it didn’t meet the standard we had set for her a long time ago. Life is funny that way; the truth is circumstantial. It has a way of changing on us day by day, hour by hour. A few years ago, our daughter had no interest in performing arts. And now she attends a high school for performing arts.
We didn’t want to take sides on this matter, but it was pretty clear we had. At the end of the day, Leila just wanted to be heard—by both of us. She felt like one of us wasn’t listening to her—and she was right.
Being a parent comes with a lot of rights and privileges, but it isn’t a one-way ticket to getting your way all of the time. Merely paying attention isn’t enough. We’ve learned that one of the hardest parts of being good parents is seeing your children for who they are. It isn’t about us—it’s about them. If your child feels secure, safe and happy, you’ve done more things right than wrong. Like it or not, our children are going to be who they are, not who we want them to be. Although they come from our bodies, they are not an extension of us, but their own individual people.
AL
The Importance of Listening to Our Kids
When I was in the seventh grade, I brought home my report card and it said that I had flunked math. Math was not my strongest subject. The fact is, I have always struggled in math. So an F wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities, especially when coupled with the usual comment, “If only Albert would apply himself.” But I hadn’t failed. I was one hundred percent sure. And I told my folks that.
But my father wasn’t buying it. Who are you going to believe—a desperate seventh grader or The Man? Well, in this case, the “man” was actually a woman. To be specific, a nun.
“How did Sister Catherine make a mistake, Albert?” my father said sternly. “Tonight at the parent-teacher meeting I am going to find out if you’re lying to me.”
“I am not lying, Dad.” I did my best to convince him, but it was no use.
I had no history of lying and yet my father still doubted my word. I couldn’t believe that my dad didn’t trust me!
My father went to school that night and met with Sister Catherine. As he later told me, just as he launched into my flunking, she stopped him and said, “Mr. Roker, there must be some mistake. Albert didn’t flunk.”
“But it’s on his report card.”
Sister Catherine looked in her grade book and noted an 83 next to my name, which did not match the 63 she had written down on the report card. She had made an error. I know it’s hard to believe that a nun could make such a mistake, but this was the 1960s. There were no computers, no digital entering of grades and comments. Everything was done—wait for it—by hand!
Hold on; it gets better—in pen.
Prepare for your mind to be blown even more—a fountain pen!
I’ll wait while you pull out your phone to Google “fountain pen.”
Shall we continue?
When my dad came home that night, he sat down next to me and said, “You know what, son? I made a mistake. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”
Up until that very moment, I didn’t know that adults apologized to kids. I never forgot that moment. All I could think was, “Wow. My dad just apologized . . . to me!”
While I always trusted my dad, this moment deepened our bond. He was my protector and a wonderful mentor. He taught me that it’s okay to admit when you’re wrong, even if you’re the adult. I have carried that lesson into my role as a dad to this very day. More so, he taught me to remember to show my kids that what they say matters.
Everyone wants to be heard and acknowledged. I don’t care who you are or where you’re at in life. On the last day of her show, Oprah said the one thing all of her guests shared in common was their need to be acknowledged. When you think about it, isn’t that what we all want?
If you’re like me, there’s nothing more frustrating or patronizing than when someone says, “I hear what you are saying,” while scrolling through text messages or typing out an e-mail. (If you’re a parent, you know exactly what I’m talking about!) It’s important that the other person knows you’re really listening and you have taken in what he’s shared with you. If you’re not focused, you can’t possibly be paying attention. You have to look and listen.
Being present in the moment is hard for a lot of people—now more than ever. There is a l
ot of “noise” in the world these days. Distractions are all around us. Giving people the attention they deserve and the time to be both heard and acknowledged opens the door to better communication in any relationship, whether it’s with your spouse, your children, your friends or your colleagues at work. Taking the time to take in what they say, weigh it, respond to it and then honor it has an invaluable compound effect—especially when it comes to our children, because how else will we ever truly know them?
Parents have to do what we think is right in terms of enforcing rules and instilling manners but also be willing to let our children find their way. Life is about experiences, the good and the challenging. It’s our job to be there to wipe away the tears and bandage the scraped knees. The truth is, in the real world, we can’t prevent them from happening.
You cannot fit a square peg into a round hole. When you know it won’t fit but you try to jam it in there anyway, it may work for a short time, but eventually something is going to break—and usually it’s your kid who will pay the price.
My father always told me, “It’s not about what you want. It’s about what your kid needs.”
He never tried to force me into that round hole. He gave me permission to be who I was—always. He understood I was a kid who wasn’t athletic, who preferred to play nerdy geeked-out games, read comic books about Superman and Batman or watch my favorite TV shows. Dad never tried to push me into sports because he knew that was a setup for failure.
As I entered into my adult life, I took my dad’s wisdom with me, though there have been plenty of times along the way I questioned whether or not I fit in. That is until one night I met record producer L. A. Reid, who has worked with everyone from Whitney Houston to Mariah Carey. We were having drinks before a black-tie event. I was dressed in a light gray suit and feeling a little out of place because I wasn’t wearing a tux. Sensing my discomfort, L.A. turned to me and said, “Just do you!”
Been There, Done That Page 5