Sexting has become a more commonplace term in today’s media. A year ago, few people were aware of this term, and when it first came onto the scene most parents who had never heard of it, or who had never thought about the ramifications of providing cell phones to their children, found yet another reason to demonize technology and make irrational decisions about trying to protect their children.
The most recent study released about sexting equates the phenomenon to spin the bottle.
So what is a parent to think about this convergence of technology and typical teenage and pre-teen curiosity? How are parents supposed to manage the collision of immature minds and tools that give them opportunities to get into trouble in ways never before imagined? Are the fears overblown, or should we be worried that we are about to lose our children to the digital universe?
The season for one of the two baseball teams I’ve been coaching came to a close on Saturday. Not because of any big loss or anything. The team was a coach pitch baseball team for which the season simply came to an end. This team brought me a lot of anxiety this year; it also taught me a lot about parents and kids.
Two weeks before the season was to start I received a call from one of the volunteers from the league asking if I would be the head coach. I had been a head coach the year before, at the same time that I was the head coach of my oldest son’s Little League team, and I had vowed that I would never try to balance those two roles ever again. With that last year’s experience under my belt I had told the local Little League, and this coach pitch league that I could be an assistant coach, but that I did not have the ability to take on the head coaching duties.
This is not an easy one for me because while the events were relatively innocuous, my own reaction to it was not. I’m, frankly, embarrassed by how I reacted, initially to what happened, but I’m hoping how I followed through with it made up for some of my short comings.
Our little boy unleashed all of his pent up frustration tonight. Oddly enough his thirty minute rant, which started just when I wanted him to go to bed, began with his proclamation that he wanted to graduate from college when he was 17.
The proclamation unfolded from a protracted line of questions.