Ten Conversations You Must Have with Your Son: Preparing Your Son for a Happy and Successful Life - Softcover

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Dr. Tim Hawkes is the author of several books including Boy Oh Boy: How To Raise And Educate a Son and the Learning Leadership series. He has taught in England and Australia for over 35 years and been a headmaster for much of that time. A highly regarded educational resource, author and social commentator, Tim Hawkes is in demand as a conference speaker around the world. He is married and has three adult children, including a son.

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Introduction

MY MOTIVE FOR WRITING this book was a growing concernthat too many boys seem starved of essential knowledge; the sort of knowledgethat can only come from good conversations about good things with good people.The assurance of love, the teaching of life skills, the sharing of wisdomseemed not to happen in the lives of many of the boys I came across as aneducator. Small wonder. In an age characterized by frantic pace, incessantobligation and multiple diversions, meaningful conversation between sons andparents is now being measured in seconds a day rather than in minutes.

   Making time totalk with a son is one thing; knowing what to talk about is another. In this,parents need not feel discouraged, because each has a compendium of experiencethat should not be underestimated. Having acknowledged this, teaching a son theskills to enable him to cope with life’s many challenges is not always easy.Intergenerational differences and a natural dislike by the younger of advicegiven by the older means that some ingenuity is needed. This book explores howto share with a son as well as what to share.

   Many people aretalking to our sons, but are they the right people and are they giving theright advice? In this book, you will learn what to say to your son aboutspecific matters such as sex, money, health and goals, as well as how to dealwith broader, more difficult issues such as character and death. These matterscannot be left to chance. There is a curriculum of life skills, knowledge andwisdom that needs to be passed from one generation to another, and TenConversations You Must Have With Your Son was written to help with thismission.

   My credentialsin writing this book are not found in the headship of schools or the authoringof books. They come from being a father whose failure has filled these pageswith painful lessons. I have also had the pleasure of witnessing inspirationalparenting by others and have listened to conversations that have stimulated andtransformed a boy. These stories I share, as I do ancient wisdom and modernthinking on what must be said to our sons.

Tim Hawkes

Why?

TO SUGGEST THE SORTS OF CONVERSATIONS a parent shouldhave with their son is not much short of arrogant. Each son, each parent andeach family is unique in what it is they need to talk about, so providing aformulaic list of required conversation is as presumptuous as it is unhelpful.

   Then there isthe matter of the number of conversations. Ten—you must be joking! You shouldbe having thousands, even tens of thousands of conversations with your son,with each discourse delicately nuanced so that it is uniquely relevant to thesituation.

   The only plea Ican enter to both of these charges is: guilty.

   However, Imaintain my direction and purpose. Why? Because of a wearying amount ofevidence that too many of our sons are starting adulthood with insufficientmentoring. An unacceptable number appear to be unable to cope well with theirgrowing independence. Some progress through the decades after childhood in astate of perpetual adolescence, unwilling to commit, unwilling to assumeresponsibility and unwilling to grow up. Addicted to the trivial, preoccupiedwith pleasure and suffering domestic dyslexia, several are making a mess oftheir relationships and a mess of their lives.

   In nearly aquarter of a century as a headmaster, I have seen too many parents frustratedby their inability to connect with their sons, and too many sons hobbled by alack of communication with their parents. The generation gap has long beenrecognized as the culprit in preventing good conversation. Many parents are notalways comfortable communicating with their teenage “twitterati” usingcontemporary means. It is not just because they have no idea what “lol” means.It is because they have limited opportunity to talk and such opportunity theydo have is often rushed and inadequate. Playgroups, preschools and primaryschools steal their children away from them. Then televisions, computer games andsocial-networking sites abduct their offspring. Thereafter, the parent mustline up behind the secondary school teacher, football coach, best friend andgirlfriend to speak to their son.

   The informationblackout between generations is not assisted by the growth of independentliving in the home. Some parents escape the noisy chatter of offspring bybunkering down in a parents’ retreat, shutting themselves in a study or hidingbehind a newspaper. Many sons are no better. They protect themselves from theverbal intrusion of their parents by ensuring their bedroom is equipped withenough electronic self-sufficiency to free them from the obligation to speak toanyone except the cat.

   In addition, anypossible place of conversation in the home is often rendered sterile. Thedining table is used only when guests arrive. Chairs are aimed at the TVinstead of each other. Ensuite bathrooms cater for independence. Backyards areshrunk to a size that frustrates most opportunities for a chat with Dad whileplaying a game of catch.

   The time hascome for parents and sons to recover the value of regular conversation witheach other. Failure to do so will impoverish both, and hinder the transfer ofwisdom and experience from one generation to the next.

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I have three reasons to claim that my credentials inwriting on this topic are strong. They come from my failure as a father, mybetrayal as a headmaster and my inadequacy as a son.

Failure as a father

As a father, I have sought for too much significanceoutside the home and not enough significance within it. I take little comfortfrom the fact that I may not be the only father who has erred in this way. Thetrouble is that many of us dads become so consumed by the task of collectingtwigs for the nest we rarely find time to sit in it. Some of us are not contentwith producing 2.3 children. We must also produce 1.5 cars and 1.3 houses. Theeffort required to do this can lead to us being marginalized in our own home.Just when we realize the error of our ways and seek to increase oursignificance in our son’s life, the chick has grown up. The father then becomesan embarrassment or, even worse, irrelevant.

   I recall a scenewith my son, Peter, some 20 or so years ago when he was ten. In the afternoon,Peter had come into my study wearing a baggy green cricket cap that swamped histousled locks. He was lugging his cricket bag. The impudence of dragging thetrivial into a room made serious by my shelves of learning irritated me.

   Would I like toplay some cricket?

   Stupid question.Did the boy not have eyes in his head?

   “I’m sorry,Pete, I have to finish this work. Perhaps later.”

   His words saidit didn’t matter, but his body language said that it did. He crumpled intoresigned acceptance and turned to leave, but retreat was blocked by his mother.

   “I’m sure thatif we give Dad two minutes to come to a convenient stop, he’ll come out andplay.” It was not a suggestion—it was a command. Her level eyes were a mixtureof accusation and judgment that hinted at the possibility of an unpleasantsentence if compliance was not forthcoming. They were angry eyes; eyes thatasked how I could forego my responsibilities to my family in my quest tofulfill my responsibilities as a...