The Mistake about Mistakes

In March, I was on two high school overnight retreats - a Kairos with juniors and an overnight retreat about adulthood with seniors.

The senior retreat covers issues that pertain to adulthood, inviting seniors to confront these issues now and consider what they think - integrity, family and relationships, sexuality, identity, and drugs/alcohol. Then the final small group reflects on all these issues and invites seniors to consider how they may struggle or succeed in navigating with each one as they finish high school and begin college.

In these last two small groups especially, students talked a lot about "having experiences" and "gaining stories." Social life for teenagers is so heavily about impressing others, about "living it up" such that you're seen as adventurous or bold or attractive. Their immaturity clouds them from understanding that nourishing relationships with others built on loyalty, trust, and vulnerability are the greatest memories.

I remember as a teenager obstinately refusing to get involved in the party scene. For me it wasn't just the drug and alcohol use; it was the way people viewed and treated each other. People eyed each other for their looks or behavior. Interactions were guided by how attractive someone looked, dressed, or made themselves up, or worse, their reputation for sexual activity. I preferred the lunch table, the musical rehearsals, and the booths at restaurants. There, people didn't alter themselves and their priorities. Instead, they listened to each other, made each other laugh, and created remember-able memories.

Zipping back to my retreat groups, it's hard for me to connect completely with the kids who are more adventurous, outgoing, and extroverted. I have to hold back a bit when kids are talking liberally about "going out," about "meeting new people," and the availability of drugs and alcohol. I did speak up when they'd talk about where they'd go and why - I asked why they didn't want that stuff at their own houses. They said people get way too crazy, and they know their parents wouldn't like that behavior in them or their friends. Hmmm.

Anyway, the point at which I felt like I wasn't just a stodgy adult and/or a social prude was when they talked about their curiosities and explorations. The phrase "I'll learn from my mistakes" came up time and time again.

Now, I'll admit I didn't make many of those sort of mistakes. My one big one was going to a "party" sophomore year at my friend's house when we all knew her parents wouldn't be home. I knew her parents wouldn't want me there, so I didn't tell my parents that her parents would be gone. We were good kids. It was just a "pirate party" - dumb costumes, silly decorations, and lots of orange pop. No drugs, no alcohol. But word got out, and my parents summoned me home. I learned that even with no drugs and alcohol, we still could have been in big trouble if someone tried to rob the house, someone came to hurt or threaten us, or if one of my friends got hurt. I never lied to my parents again, and I steered clear of parentless parties.

The thing that killed me about the kids' use of "I'll learn from my mistakes" was that they weren't necessarily talking about mistakes they had already made. They spoke as if they were expecting to make mistakes, and frankly, were pretty ok with it. I think there's a fine line between unrealistic perfection and comfortably high expectations.

I've been told by some, including a spiritual director, that I'm too hard on myself. I have high expectations of everyone and everything. But I don't think it's too much to challenge teenagers and ourselves to not expect to make serious mistakes. We will never be perfect until Heaven, but we can try to steer clear of severe mistakes that have significant repercussions for ourselves and others.

When it comes to parties and socializing, there are surely medical issues (STI's, addiction) and legal issues (fines, arrests), but I think it's the social ramifications that are so daunting and lasting.

It can become difficult or impossible to deeply enjoy oneself without drugs, alcohol, crowds, or loud hubbub; one can become almost incapable of chill conversations and relaxed hangouts. The nature of relationships can be very blurred by sexual liberalities. One's reputation can be defined by social behaviors, sexual decisions, and physical looks rather than one's personality and heart. There's plenty of ways to get hurt.

You shouldn't avoid something just because there's risk involved. But you do need to more responsible with things as the risk rises, and few things are more risky than crowded, sweaty parties full of horny, young people who think they're physically, emotionally, and socially invisible.

The thing I tried to challenge these kids on was don't treat mistakes as inevitable. Sure, if you've been to a party in high school that got busted or where you regrettably hooked up with someone, take the time to process it personally, with friends, and with God, and grow up and move on. However, don't doom yourself to repeating those behaviors over and over.

Making a mistake for the first time can be formative. Repeating that mistake over and over becomes negligent. It's giving yourself permission to not grow, to stagnate and to ignore your potential. It's saying that you're not smart enough to figure out how to do better, how to find better in yourself and your life.

Even more importantly than a holy-roller-campus-minister talking about not inviting mistakes without having made any crazy ones himself, I tried to challenge them to do the right thing. You can learn just as much from choosing right as from making a mistake. It's the magnitude of the tension, conflict, and dilemma that ups the ante for a learning moment. A mistake isn't the only thing teaches you something big; it's the stakes.

One of our adult leaders on retreat told the story of a college spring break. Her and some friends took a Florida road trip after becoming of legal age to drink. After a night of drinking, some boys invited her and a friend to their hotel room. They went to the hotel, but just before they arrived, she thought better of it and tried to dissuade her drunk friend from going up. The friend refused and went on her own. After leaving her friend and driving away a block, she turned back, got her friend, and took her home. Years later, the friend still was thanking her.

The point is that you can learn a lesson and grow profoundly from doing the right thing. Every decision we freely make forms our conscience going forward. The big decisions, when the stakes are high and the pressure's on, are the ones that can carry greater weight. Those moments give us shape more pronouncedly. We don't have to screw up to learn and grow. We do have to reflect, process, and confront what we decided.

We can say no to that next drink that takes us from buzzed-but-controlled and on toward a blackout; we can refuse the drug that will mess us up; we can refuse the sexual advance that will eventually lead to emotional confusion.

Better yet, we can find good things to say yes to - to drinking responsibly, to a degree short of blackout and with pre-arranged plans to avoid getting behind the wheel; to socializing responsibly and putting ourselves in situations where we can laugh, get to know others better, and develop friendships; to seeking a healthy sexual relationship with a person so that the physical activity involved mirrors the social, emotional, romantic growth of the relationship, the two growing in proportion parallel-ly.

Rather than expecting our mistakes and letting them occur without a fight, we can prime ourselves to do the right thing. We can surround ourselves with friends and family that make us the best versions of ourselves. We can sustain our faith to help us understand who were are called to be. We can discern where we stand ahead of time, and be prepared to choose good in all that we do.