By Stephen C. Schultz
We live in a world where almost everything is available to us immediately. We can order food, purchase just about anything, communicate with someone across the world, or find entertainment without ever leaving our homes. We have become accustomed to getting what we want, when we want it.
For today's teenagers, the innocent days of riding around the neighborhood on your tricycle are gone before you know it. The ready access to just about anything you want isn't simply a convenience. It is the environment in which they are growing up.
Consider how easily young people can access alcohol or drugs, spend endless hours playing video games, or view pornography anytime and almost anywhere. They can pursue immediate physical gratification without necessarily experiencing the patience, vulnerability, and relationship-building that come with getting to know another person.
"I want what I want, when I want it, and I want it right now" seems to have become a mantra for much of society, not just teenagers.
I believe one of the things we are losing sight of is the importance of delayed gratification. Learning to wait, work toward something, tolerate disappointment, and accept that our choices have consequences are fundamental parts of growing up. These experiences help develop self-discipline, judgment, and personal responsibility.
Yet, in our efforts to protect young people, we sometimes protect them from precisely the experiences they need to mature.
When I talk about teenagers being sheltered, I am not suggesting that parents should stop protecting their children. Rather, I think we need to recognize the difference between protecting a child from harm and protecting them from accountability. Sometimes, consequences are delayed, uncomfortable conversations are avoided, and problems are allowed to continue until they become much more difficult to address.
And this brings us to something I have seen repeatedly in my years working with adolescents and families.
When Parents Begin to Question Themselves
When a family begins considering residential treatment for their son or daughter, there is often much more going on than the immediate behavioral concerns. There is worry, frustration, exhaustion, and frequently a considerable amount of guilt.
Parents often ask themselves where they went wrong. They wonder whether they missed something, whether they should have done something differently, or whether reaching out to a residential treatment program is somehow an admission that they have failed as parents.
I understand those feelings, but I think we need to put parenting into perspective.
There are millions of families in this world dealing with innumerable challenges and circumstances. There is no absolute cause and effect when it comes to parenting. How do we account for the child raised by a drug-addicted parent who succeeds in school and becomes a well-adjusted member of society? Conversely, how do we explain the child raised in a loving, supportive home who struggles with significant emotional and behavioral challenges?
Human development is complicated. We cannot always identify one cause, one mistake, or one circumstance that explains why a young person struggles.
At Oxbow Academy, our therapeutic approach is highly individualized because we recognize that every student and family brings a different history and set of challenges.
I often remind parents that asking for help is not an admission of failure. In many instances, it is one of the most courageous and responsible decisions they can make. Recognizing that your child needs something beyond what you can provide at home does not mean you have given up. It means you are willing to consider another way forward.
The Hardest Work Isn't Always What You Think
People often assume that the most difficult part of a residential treatment program is adjusting to the structure, rules, and expectations of living in a new environment. Certainly, that can be a significant adjustment.
But in my experience, the more difficult work is often emotional.
It involves learning to express vulnerability, accepting responsibility, and developing the ability to trust others. For some students, these are unfamiliar and uncomfortable experiences. They may have spent years avoiding difficult conversations, deflecting responsibility, or protecting themselves from relationships that require honesty and openness.
Each student approaches the evaluation and disclosure process differently and at their own pace. There is no universal timetable for developing trust or working through difficult experiences.
But something begins to change when a student starts letting go of that emotional resistance and becomes willing to engage in the process.
Relationships begin to improve. Communication becomes more meaningful. Parents, who may have spent months or years struggling to trust their child, begin taking small steps toward rebuilding that trust.
And life at Oxbow becomes so much better.
Ultimately, the most meaningful progress isn't simply learning to follow a schedule, comply with expectations, or avoid certain behaviors. It is learning to develop healthy relationships, accept accountability, become comfortable with vulnerability, and recognize that trust is built through our actions over time.
These are not lessons exclusive to residential treatment. They are fundamental lessons of growing up.
Perhaps that is something worth remembering as we consider how we protect, guide, and prepare the next generation. Sometimes, helping young people move forward means allowing them to do some difficult work, accepting that growth takes time, and recognizing that the most important lessons in life rarely come with instant gratification.
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