Dale Henze is both a professor and advisor in the education department at the University of Wisconsin - Platteville. I have known him since my first semester on campus, and he has been nothing but a wonderful inspiration. He had careers as both a teacher and administrator and has many insightful views on the world of education. I asked Mr. Henze if we would do me the honor of being a guest blogger. I informed him that he could write about anything related to education and was his response. He encountered this piece at a conference and said it instantly became one of his favorite perspectives on students.
Discussion Starter
“The Cat Years”
Adair Lara
I just realized that while children are dogs…. loyal and affectionate…. teenagers are cats. It’s so easy to be a dog owner. You feed it, train it, and boss it around. It puts its head on your knee and gazes at you as if you were a Rembrandt painting. It bounds indoors with enthusiasm when you call it.
Then around age thirteen, your adoring little puppy turns into a big old cat. When you tell it to come inside, it looks amazed, as if wondering who died and made you emperor. Instead of dogging your footsteps, it disappears. You won’t see it again until it gets hungry….. then it pauses on its spring through the kitchen long enough to turn its nose up at whatever you’re serving. When you reach out to ruffle its head in that old affectionate gesture, it twists away from you, and then gives you a blank stare, as if trying to remember where it has seen you before.
You, not realizing that the dog is now a cat, think that something must be desperately wrong with it. It seems so antisocial, so distant, sort of depressed. It will no longer go on family outings.
Since you are the one who raised it, taught it to fetch and stay and sit on command, you assume that you did something wrong. Flooded with guilt and fear, you redouble your efforts to make your pet behave.
Only now you’re dealing with a cat, so everything that worked before now produces the opposite of the desired result. Call it and it runs away. Tell it to sit and it jumps on the counter. The more you go toward it, wringing your hands, the more it moves away.
Instead of continuing to act like a dog owner, you can learn to behave like a cat owner. Put a dish of food near the door and let it come to you. But remember that a cat needs your help and your affection too. Sit still and it will come, seeking that warm, comforting lap it has not entirely forgotten. Be there to open the door for it.
One day your grown-up child will walk into the kitchen, give you a big kiss and say, “You’ve been on your feet all day. Let me get those dishes for you.” Then you’ll realize that your cat is a dog again.
“The Cat Years”
Adair Lara
I just realized that while children are dogs…. loyal and affectionate…. teenagers are cats. It’s so easy to be a dog owner. You feed it, train it, and boss it around. It puts its head on your knee and gazes at you as if you were a Rembrandt painting. It bounds indoors with enthusiasm when you call it.
Then around age thirteen, your adoring little puppy turns into a big old cat. When you tell it to come inside, it looks amazed, as if wondering who died and made you emperor. Instead of dogging your footsteps, it disappears. You won’t see it again until it gets hungry….. then it pauses on its spring through the kitchen long enough to turn its nose up at whatever you’re serving. When you reach out to ruffle its head in that old affectionate gesture, it twists away from you, and then gives you a blank stare, as if trying to remember where it has seen you before.
You, not realizing that the dog is now a cat, think that something must be desperately wrong with it. It seems so antisocial, so distant, sort of depressed. It will no longer go on family outings.
Since you are the one who raised it, taught it to fetch and stay and sit on command, you assume that you did something wrong. Flooded with guilt and fear, you redouble your efforts to make your pet behave.
Only now you’re dealing with a cat, so everything that worked before now produces the opposite of the desired result. Call it and it runs away. Tell it to sit and it jumps on the counter. The more you go toward it, wringing your hands, the more it moves away.
Instead of continuing to act like a dog owner, you can learn to behave like a cat owner. Put a dish of food near the door and let it come to you. But remember that a cat needs your help and your affection too. Sit still and it will come, seeking that warm, comforting lap it has not entirely forgotten. Be there to open the door for it.
One day your grown-up child will walk into the kitchen, give you a big kiss and say, “You’ve been on your feet all day. Let me get those dishes for you.” Then you’ll realize that your cat is a dog again.