Curiously though, the centrality of praise means that it sometimes doesn’t get enough thought. It’s important to praise a child is so established a concept that sometimes we don’t think much further about how the currency of praise operates.

To show you what I mean, I’m going to focus on two ideas: as a parent, what does it take to know that you’re praising your child enough or in the right way?

It doesn’t make much difference - you clap whatever I do.

As a parent, I’m very pro praise. I’ve realised I hand it out more liberally at home than in the classroom. Maybe this isn’t a bad thing but it does shift how its currency functions. I remember once asking my younger son if he’d like me to come and watch him play tennis. His answer - as an 8 year old - surprised me: It doesn’t make much difference - you clap whatever I do.

He had a point. I’m not a tennis player. I clapped and cheered whether or not the hit was a good one. As a result, he felt that the value of my applause reduced. It made me realise that the giver and the receiver of praise are looking for different things. As a parent, I cheered to show him I loved him. On the receiving end, he was looking for praise that would help him know when he’d done well.

My son felt that my whoops on the sideline were floating free; they weren’t anchored enough to something that would help him build his understanding of what mattered and why. His comments made me realise that praise has to be anchored to the idea of ‘because’. I kept cheering because you kept putting effort in right to the end. This matters because sustaining the effort means better outcomes in the long run.

If we’re asking whether we’re praising our children enough, the better question to ask is whether our praise is meaningful enough. If we want our currency of praise to be meaningful, the value system behind it needs to be explicit. Focusing on ‘because’ and explaining the reasons behind the praise offers children a much deeper, more secure sense of its - and their - value. The explanation closes the loop and creates praise which demonstrates love and builds self-worth.

My parents don’t see it.

What does it take to know if we’re praising in the right way? The best route to answering this question is to watch how the other person responds.

Sometimes, when I praise a student at school, they cry. I don’t want to paint the wrong picture here: I’m not talking tears of joy, I’m talking the type of tears that well up when something has edged close to a raw, deep-seated pain.

Students cry when I’ve praised something that they’ve been yearning for someone else to acknowledge; if I’m being honest, it’s usually when I offer praise which they haven’t received from their parents. I know that you didn’t get the grade your parents wanted, but I have seen the way that you’ve tried and the progress you’ve made. There’s value in this - I see it and I hope you do too. The disappointment you feel is understandable but this outcome doesn’t reduce the respect that I have for you. I was proud of you before; I’m still proud of you now.

Praise helps a teenager build their sense of self-worth, but it also creates a pay-back on cost. Effort costs; finding something difficult costs; longing to be doing that bit better costs. Sometimes this cost is offset by a shiny outcome, but sometimes it isn’t. Sometimes the return on the effort is too far away; sometimes the return on the effort is less than they’d hoped.

This means it’s worth remembering that a subset of praise is validation. Validation doesn’t have to be pinned to things that typically get a gold star. Sometimes the most powerful, motivating type of praise is when a parent says I see this is difficult, I understand what this costs you. I want you to know that I am proud of you for shouldering this and living alongside it.

I’m focusing on the idea of cost because if your child is feeling the cost of a situation, then there’s something in the situation that’s having an impact on them. There’s something that could be energised or strengthened by the way you respond. The thing about cost, though, is that it’s often less visible than success. This gives rise to one more set of questions: as a parent, are you confident that you know which types of praise matter most to your child? Are you confident that know where the costs lie?

Today’s question is …

When does praise feel meaningful?

Praise is most enabling when it meets an emotional need; when this happens, the praise - or validation - recharges the emotional battery and fuels a teenager to keep going. Our next question, therefore, is this one: When does praise feel meaningful? It’s worth thinking what your own answer would be and it’s definitely worth asking your child.

Hearing their answers will help you understand when and how your praise can be most impactful; it will also give you an opportunity to get a glimpse of needs that aren’t met. Is there anything that you wish I’d notice more in the future? Is there anything that you wish I’d recognised and valued more at the time?

Let’s see what shakes out from this question; in my next post I’ll be sharing ideas which relate to the concepts within it.

Focus and celebration are two different things though - and the finish line is often a mixed bag. Exciting, tantalising in prospect but crossing it sometimes feels ... a bit flat? The revision is done and the timetable can be thrown away, the proms and parties rev up, but for many teenagers, crossing the finish line takes them into a curious no-man’s land. They’ve finished but they haven’t: they’re still in that exam territory because they’re still waiting for results.

So I’m going to focus on two things: the I dunno of the waiting and the way that parents can help.

I dunno.

Every time I’m working with a teenager who’s taking exams, I ask how they’ll celebrate when the exams are done. The most common answer is I dunno really. Sometimes there’s a first answer - burn my notes, sleep for a day, binge-watch TV - or the implication of letting rip with their friends in a way that’s maybe not going to be voiced to adult ears - but behind both of these is usually a longer lasting dunno.

The I dunno isn’t surprising. Whether or not it looks like your child has worked hard, there’s been an investment in the exams all the same. They’ve sat through years of lessons focused on the exam syllabuses; they’ve had the cost of carrying the am-I-good-enough feelings. Celebration is a concept that rests on the idea of knowing the value of something. In the exams race, it’s hard to know the value of the effort - or whether the cost of it all was worth it - until the finishing positions are in. It’s no surprise that most teenagers find it difficult to conceptualise how or why they should celebrate when they’re still waiting for their grades.

The problem with this is that it makes the effort feel risky. If the value of trying is entirely contingent on outcomes, then the return on the effort is at risk. When effort feels risky, the relationship with effort grows more complex: hyper-engagement, disengagement or procrastination starts to build. It becomes harder - not easier - to keep investing in a way which is planned, sustainable and steady.

That’s where parents can make a big difference because finishing the exams is a moment that’s worth celebrating especially when there’s still a question mark over results. The end of the exams is the end of the effort: it’s an opportunity to pause and see the value of this effort for its own sake. It’s a chance to help your teen build a more stable, secure, comfortable relationship with trying hard by helping them realise that the most important value in the effort isn’t at risk on results day.

Let’s celebrate the things that are valuable, whatever the grades look like.

As a parent, you can help your child take stock of what they’ve learned through this process and learn to feel proud of this progress, whatever the grades.

For some teens, there’ll be a list of things that are shiny and easily within the category of Well done - I’m so proud of you - I hope you feel this way too. Hours of revision racked up on revision apps, pages of past papers, days and days of keeping going even when they wished it had all finished weeks ago.

But there’ll also be some things that are less shiny and for the majority of teens, there’ll probably be the feeling that a lot of the exam experience didn’t have a gold star in the margins. So the most powerful, impactful part of the support you can offer is to help your child recognise that there can be value and strength in the more ragged moments too.

Parts of this process were grim - the shouting, the nagging, those moments of ‘no it didn’t go well’ - but you’ve made it through all the same. And yes, those bits were difficult but let’s recognise the fact that you know the dance a bit better now - you know that a slog always does have a finishing line and if you just keep going, then you get there. Next time round, you’ll have a better idea of what helps you keep going and what gets in the way. But you also need to know that you are more than your grades - let’s not lose sight of who you are and why I love you - let’s remember the things that don’t get labelled and weighed on results day.

Think what a difference it makes to a teenager to hear something like that: think of the security it gives them to know that there’s room for self-worth before the examiners’ verdict arrives.

I was going to stop there - but the Classicist in me can’t resist one small addendum: celebratio is the Latin noun at the root of our English celebration. In Latin, the primary meaning within celebratio is the idea of a coming together or meeting. It’s relevant to the ideas in this mailout because the celebration of exams ending is a moment of meeting: it’s an opportunity for you to be there with your child, helping them meet and recognise the value that gets banked right away. And so the question I’m asking next takes this idea one step further.

Today’s question is …

When do I praise my child?

What does the currency of praise look like in your house? How often is it there on the table? What triggers the Well done? Is it centred around things going well? Or is there a version of praise which helps a teen learn to find strength and motivation when things are harder? What would it look like if the currency of praise shifted to either more praise or less? How would this impact the parent-child dynamic and your child's self-perception?

Let’s see what shakes out from these questions; in my next post I’ll share some ideas which connect to the concepts involved.

I’ve found that all sorts of things come to light in the answers: maybe it’s the length of the process or the size and distractions of the exam hall, maybe it’s that feeling of ‘I wish everyone else would stop asking me about my answers / marks’, maybe it’s the way feeling nervous often makes it harder to concentrate on the day.

The obvious limitation to the question, though, is that often the heaviest parts of the process can’t be changed. That’s why they’re heavy. As parents, maybe our child’s answers leave us with another question that looks like this:

But what do I do when the magic wand isn’t there?

The interesting thing is that the magic wand doesn’t need to be there. In my workshops or 1:1 work with teenagers, I spend a lot of time focusing on navigating difficulty rather than bypassing it. Navigating difficulty means finding the resilience to work your way through.

For teenagers who are sitting exams, understanding - rather than removing - the difficulties helps them find this route through. As a parent, you can support them in this with two strategies which don’t need a magic wand to implement.

The first is compassion: I hear you, it’s heavy, I’m not surprised you feel this way. Compassion doesn’t remove the problem but it recharges the emotional battery; this makes it much easier for a teenager to keep going.

The second strategy is that your response can help normalise the reaction. In the example above, I used the words I’m not surprised you feel this way. These words make such a difference, especially during exams. It’s worth pausing to think about why.

It looks like someone else is finding it easier.

Stamped into the exam experience is the fact that - when your child looks to the sides - the chances are they’ll see someone who looks like they’re finding it easier, lighter, calmer. This is true whatever your child’s grades look like. It’s true because the outside looks different from the inside: sweaty palms, racing heart beat, boredom or anger - most of the time, these are felt inwardly, not seen outwardly.

So the value of saying I’m not surprised is that it helps remind your child that they’re feeling this way because it’s a natural reaction to the situation. It’s not necessarily because they’re handling it worse than the next person. This is why acknowledging how unsurprising a reaction is can be such a boost: it reminds a teenager that finding something difficult doesn’t always equate to not doing well enough. Most importantly of all, it reminds them that even if they’re disappointed that they’re feeling this way, you’re not disappointed in them.

Today’s question is …

How shall we celebrate the finish line?

Whenever a teenager is sitting exams, there’s a finish line in view. It may feel far away, but it’s there, indelibly, because exams run to a timetable. At a certain time on a certain day, the exams will be done. Today’s question focuses on that finish line because there’s meaningful value in celebrating it whether or not the exams have gone well.

Celebrating the finish line - rather than waiting for the results - reminds your teen that there’s a value in trying even if the grades aren’t what they’re hoping for. It acknowledges that the process is demanding and it’s an achievement to be on the other side. Celebration also creates a pause and a moment for reflection: it creates an opportunity to take stock and learn from the experience. But different teens like to celebrate in different ways and finding out what would be meaningful or restorative for your child also offers an insight into what they need from you as their parents.

Let’s see what shakes out; in my next post, I’ll be sharing some ideas which relate to this question.

Often, the answer is something which seems surprisingly small in retrospect: perhaps it’s a Y7 topic test or a Y8 exam in a subject that your child chose to drop. Sometimes it’s something much bigger, such as an entrance exam to secondary school. The bit that’s important in the answer, though, isn’t the size or importance of the test; it’s the emotions which still feel live however many months or years later.

What felt important at the time? Which emotions do you remember now? Questions like these facilitate greater understanding of the emotional texture surround exams. The answers are specific to each child, but I’m sharing with you now two types of answers that I hear frequently. I’m focusing on these two because they both generate insight into what helps a teenager feel motivated to keep working and what can drive a teen to disengage and switch off their effort.

I thought I’d prepared but I didn’t get the mark I wanted.

One of the central drivers in a teenager’s relationship with school is how confident they feel that their effort will generate the right outcome. A teen who trusts that their effort will be effective will find it much easier to stay motivated and steady than a teenager who doubts that they’ll get the right return.

The sting in the exam experience is that there isn’t a cast iron correlation between effort and outcome. There’s a strong correlation between working hard and getting good grades, for sure, but there isn’t any guarantee that effort will always generate the return that the individual student - or their parent - was hoping for. That’s why exams are nerve-wracking: there’s always the risk of the if-only-I’d-done-this-instead feeling when someone looks at the exam paper or the sinking, frustrated feeling of the work that I did was a waste of time.

If your child feels doubtful that they’re going to get the marks they want, you can make a big difference by reminding them that you value their efforts regardless of outcome. If - as the parent - you notice and celebrate effort for its own sake, you generate a different type of return on the effort which is much safer and more secure than the grade itself. If your child knows that you’re interested in how they work, rather than what they get, it’ll be much easier for a teenager to stay motivated and keep trying.

I really wanted to make my parents proud.

Teenagers often do a good job of hiding how much their parents’ opinion matters to them. There can be a lot of I don’t care what you think at the surface of the way a teenager reacts to their parent. But the stuff at the surface doesn’t always match the stuff much deeper down and I’m yet to meet a teenager who doesn’t want, on some deep and visceral level, their parents to be proud of them.

I really wanted to make my parents proud is something I hear a lot in the context of how teenagers remember exams or tests from before they got to secondary school. At that age, an exam - conceptually - usually means much more to the parent than the child. This means that an a child’s emotional memory of exams at that age often centres around the idea that the exam was important because it mattered to someone else. The inevitable consequence of this is that the threshold for celebration / disappointment becomes calibrated to someone else’s reaction.

This means that it can be worth checking in with your child’s beliefs about what will - or won’t - make you proud. If your child believes that it’s possible and straightforward to make you proud, they are much more likely to care openly about achieving this. If the threshold for celebration is wrapped up with results or study habits which seem too far out of reach, the most natural response is to dig deeper into I don’t care what you think.

So, if you’re keen to help motivate your child to keep investing in schoolwork, it’s worth making sure that the threshold for celebration is calibrated to your child and not to something too idealised or unrealistic. If you want your child to stay invested and keep caring about schoolwork, they’ll need to feel safe in their ability to access the deeply enabling, motivating feeling of hearing a parent say, Well done, I’m proud of you.

Today’s question is …

If you could wave a magic wand, what would you change?

I often advocate for the role parents can play in recharging the emotional battery during difficult times at school. No teenager is living their best life during the long, drawn-out weeks and months of public exams; if they can access compassion and understanding for the heavier bits of the process, they’ll probably find it easier to re-charge, face forwards and keeping going.

The challenge is that the heaviest parts of the process are often hardest to voice. What are you finding difficult right now? This a central question but it doesn’t always open up the conversation in the right way. The adolescent ego sometimes generates a shrug of the shoulders: voicing difficulties can blur with the feeling of admitting inadequacy and that’s very difficult for many teenagers to do. The much easier question to answer is What would you change about this experience? It’s a calmer question but the answers it generates can be equally helpful in showing you where your teenager might need your empathy the most.

Let’s see what shakes out; in my next post, I’ll be sharing ideas which relate to this question.

Weaving respect into the fabric of conversations yields two benefits: the first is that there’s an established correlation between articulate, thoughtful teenagers and the home environments where respectful, interested dialogue is prioritised. Put simply, respecting a teenager’s thought-process helps a teen to become better at thinking.

The second benefit is that as children get older, their thoughts often become increasingly helpful to us as parents. Embedding respect means that you’re more likely to benefit more often from your child’s different, independent perspective. This is particularly useful - even if sometimes uncomfortable - when we’re at risk of making our own mistakes. If you can establish a dynamic where it’s straightforward for your child to be honest about something that isn’t working, it’s much easier to find better approaches.

The question remains, though, of how to show your child you respect their thought-process: here are two strategies which can help.

Make a point of acknowledging when they’re right and you’re wrong.

This strategy does so much good. It signals to the child that their thoughts are taken seriously; it establishes the principle that it’s worth being honest. It also role-models that it’s ok to be wrong. It helps prevent the rigidity that arises if it’s essential to be right.

One of the biggest barriers to progress at school is the fear of making mistakes. It’s often the fear of mistakes that makes a teenager pull back, disengage or procrastinate. It’s also the fear of mistakes which makes moments of judgement - such as tests or exams - so high-octane emotionally. Conversely, it’s much easier for a teenager to lean in, stay engaged and think calmly under pressure if they’re comfortable with the idea that mistakes are often part of moving forwards.

I ask ‘why’ before I disagree.

As a concept, respect can sometimes get blurred with agreement. It’s fairly straightforward to respect someone’s opinion if they’re obviously right; it’s more complex if they’re obviously wrong.

So, as a parent, what do you do if your child says something and you feel the urge to swoop in and correct them? As much as I’m an advocate for listening respectfully, I’d never suggest that this should require agreement by default. As parents, part of our role is to help our children move forwards; disagreement is often essential to this process.

The place that’s most fertile for constructive respect isn’t the conversation’s conclusion. Instead, it’s what happens in the middle ground. Tell me more. Why does it seem this way to you? These questions are so powerful: they create space to open up a better understanding. They encourage a teenager to be clearer about their own ideas; this makes it more likely that that the teenager will learn to think through to a conclusion which is reflective, mature, sensible and well-reasoned.

These questions also make disagreement more comfortable. If your child knows that you’ve taken the time to listen - really listen - to their point of view, they’re much more likely to want to listen, respectfully and thoughtfully, to your side of things afterwards.

Today’s question is …

When did an exam or test feel like a big deal?

In secondary schools, everyone learns the flavour of exam season. When public exams start, they are in the air, whether or not your child is in Y11 or Y13. During the exam season, schools pulse with unmissable reminders that exams are in view: large signs appear asking for silence, teachers are walking briskly carrying boxes of exam paraphernalia, the routes around the school change as certain corridors get closed off.

Each child has their own set of exam emotions: as a parent, the better these are understood, the easier it is to support your child through. But I’m suggesting a question for your child which is retrospective because it’s usually easier to talk about previous exams than whatever it is that’s happening now. The emotions at play in the past will give you an insight into the factors or circumstances which are most likely to feel raw in when exams roll around again. Understanding these emotions better will help you be ready to offer the support your child needs the next time they’re facing a test or exam.

Let’s see what shakes out from this question; I’ll be sharing ideas which relate to this question in my next post.

I’m going to focus on two ideas.

Knowing that you’re there for me

No surprises in this one, perhaps. I hear it again and again in student workshops when I ask teenagers what they need from their parents. But the concept is more straightforward than the reality.

Busy schedules, busy mental load: it’s not always possible to be there when a teenager needs it. Let’s talk later; this will have to wait. You won’t be alone if you find yourself saying this.

The challenge is how to make sure a teenager knows that you’re there, even in the midst of the reality of multiple commitments and pulls on our time. I’d suggest that the solution lies in the framing of how you are present: being there doesn’t have to equate to instant availability. It’s about signalling your commitment to creating the space to listen for long enough for whatever’s in view.

I'm so sorry we couldn't talk earlier, but I'm here now for as long as you need. I can listen to whatever you need me to understand. Sometimes the moment has passed and your teen might tell you it's fine now - doesn't matter. If that's the case, it's worth waiting a bit longer, just sitting alongside or chatting about whatever feels light-hearted, easy and comfortable. Sometimes, in the ease that an unhurried pause or a lighter conversation creates, whatever it was ends up coming back to the surface. But even if it doesn't, staying there for longer shows that you are indeed committed to being available, even if sometimes it's later rather than now.

It’s the small things, like bringing me a snack.

This one’s much easier to do. It’s worth pausing on two things though. First is that it really is easy to offer a small bit of TLC, so easy that perhaps it feels trivial. But its value isn’t trivial because teenagers spend their days at school being directed to do this and do that, meet one set of expectations, then another. This is why it’s such a boost for a teen to come home and hear an adult offer to do something nice that’s just for them, asking what they’d like and then following through.

But I’m doing things for my child all the time! Yes - true. Scheduling, financing, cooking, shopping, organising, tidying, laundry, chivvying, the list goes on. The value in the offer isn’t that you’re not doing enough already; the value is that it’s an offer. It’s verbalised, it’s a moment that gets noticed, where the love gets seen and felt because it’s right there, fully present on the surface of the here and now.

And that’s the second thing to pause on: if your child was one of the teens who said it’s the small things, then I wonder if you’ve noticed how these interactions feel different now it’s been verbalised. I’ve come by your room to see if you need anything because I know that this shows you how much I love you. When the action’s been labelled in a way that shows it’s about more than the drink or the snack, it takes on a different colour and emotional texture. It deepens the power of a small, easy gesture to demonstrate the emotion that’s the singe most important feeling of all.

The next question is …

What do you do that shows your teen you respect their thought process?

This question’s trickier. It’s one for you, not your child. I’m asking it because adolescence is all about growing into one’s own sense of self. It’s about opening up thought processes and learning to invest in meaningful, independent opinions and decisions. The teenagers who make the best decisions are the teens who’ve learned that thinking carefully about something is valued and respected by significant adults in their lives. Like anything else, it can be nurtured, but the question is how?

So, what do you do as a parent which shows your teen that when they pause to think something through, their thoughts are valuable and worth taking seriously? Or - if you prefer - it might be easier to think back to when you were growing up: what did it take to help you believe that a thought - your thought - was worth having?

Sometimes, the most important questions are so fundamental that they don't get asked in the everyday patterns of family life. The bigger stuff doesn't get a look in if we're caught up in the stream of when will you be home / have you done your homework / what do you mean you don't know where your trainers are ...

I’ll be using these posts to create the space for the questions and the space for the answers. It'll be a space that helps us listen better and think more deeply about the realities of the evolving relationships that we all have with our children. Each post will focus on a question, but I’ll hold back until the next post to share thoughts about the answers. This pause is intentional: it’s there to create the space to think about your context first. The thoughts I’ll be sharing are thoughts, not a rule book: taking the space to think about your context first will make it much easier to work out whether the ideas in the next post will be useful for your family.

We're kicking off with a question for your teen.

What makes you feel loved?

How’s that for a question? It’s bang slap in the bullseye of what’s going to nurture and maintain the parent-child relationship.

But it’s also a question that I realised I had never, ever asked my own children. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about how to show them that I loved them, but I’d never actually asked what they thought until yesterday.

So there it is. A question and a confession rolled into one. If, like me, you haven’t asked your own children what makes them feel loved, I’d say it’s worth having a crack at it now. Hear what they say and then let’s see how that shapes what happens next.

Thank you for being part of this group and for reading this message. If you think other parents would be interested in joining our conversation, please forward this on.

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