I went to my first prom dressed as a munchkin.
I was 16 years old, and I wore bright red shorts, knee socks that stopped just below the bend in my legs, a short-sleeved, plaid, button-down shirt that was fastened all the way up to the collar, and purple suspenders. And the crowning touch? I had a little beanie with a propeller on it. If I ran around really fast, the propeller would sort of spin with a kind of lazy reluctance, not really entertaining anyone except my friend who was standing next to me and who was also, by the way, dressed as a munchkin.
We both held way-oversized lollypops, and we stood licking those lollypops at the entrance of the school gym where the prom was to take place. Our job was to welcome the prom-going juniors and seniors who arrived arm in arm and paid us exactly the same amount of attention that aristocrats pay to not very good jesters.
“We have to sing the song,” my buddy hissed.
“No, we don’t,” I replied.
“We have to,” he said. He looked like a particularly morose and honor-bound munchkin. “We promised.”
Somehow, I thought this gig would be funnier than it was turning out to be. Still, he had a point. A promise was a promise.
He bent his knees as I went up to my tip-toes, and then we reversed, my friend standing tall while I squatted towards the ground. Once we had established a steady rhythm, we crooned: “We represent ( pause) the lollypop gang (pause), the lollypop gang (pause), the lollypop gang. And in the name of (pause) the lollypop gaaaaaaang (super-long pause), we wish to welcome you to this year’s prom.”
And in walked those upperclassmen, glamorously big-haired and wonderfully wide-eyed to dance to Roxy Music and make their predictable attempt at spiking the punch.
[Read: How to Improve Communication With Teen Boys.]
This was their night. The theme of their class prom was “A Night in the City of Oz” — not very original for a prom at a Kansas high school, but then who am I to judge? — and my buddy and I had actually auditioned for and were chosen among many for the odd and much-coveted role of “prom server.” The tradition of having underclassmen dress as if they are part of whatever magical world the prom is supposed to become, despite the fact that in my era it was always housed in a sticky and dimly lit high school gymnasium, disappeared mercifully sometime shortly after that. It may even have been a purely local thing. None of my adult friends recall similar practices from their high school experiences.
However, all of my adult friends remember stories of some kind from their proms. Even the ones who didn’t go remember something. At my high school, only juniors and seniors could attend, so I would have my chance the next year where, if memory serves me correctly, the gymnasium departed Kansas entirely and was decorated to look like the Queen Mary.
As was true for me, it’s expected today that for kids who go (and even perhaps those who don’t) prom, for better or for worse, is going to be remembered . Therein lie the risks of this springtime ritual. Kids are out to make memories on this overhyped night, and these memories cannot possibly live up to the stories and expectations that have been trafficked, often with outlandish embellishments by their older peers. This kind of pressure mixes particularly poorly with the teen brain, and the more stoked kids are, the more stupid they can be.
Most parents already know all of this, but something about the prom makes parents more likely to forgo common sense. There’s lots of data and some downright tragic stories to support this. With that in mind, here are five tips to get you and your child through this magical night:
1. Keep the lecturing at bay. You should already know this, but it bears repeating. Remember that the prom is literally a teen’s chance to pretend that he or she is grown-up. Teens are also keenly aware that things can only be so glamorous with a bit too much acne and impressively uncomfortable shoes. Treat your kids like adults in training, or a mentee (you being the mentor) rather than kids. You’ll still be able to bring your values to the table, but whatever those values might be, you should take it from a parent and a child psychiatrist (i.e. me) that these values will more likely be internalized if you’re the “slightly older adult” rather than the “stern parent,” when you discuss expectations for the night — and remind them how to arrive home safely.
2. Remember: A good mentor always has leverage. For example, if you ask your child to text you to let you know (in general terms) what he or she is up to, you have to put in place a plan for what to do if you don’t get that text. Talk with your eye-rolling teen about what ought to happen. Make it clear that you have to do something. You might make a deal that if you don’t hear from your teen, you’ll get in touch with the parents of the other kids who are part of the prom entourage. In fact, it’s a good idea to touch base with those other parents even before the big night so that you’re all on the same page.
[Read: 10 Ways to Broach the Subject of Sex With Your Teen.]
3. Do not share stories of how crazy it got at your prom. First of all, no one wants to hear those stories, let alone your kids. Unless you happened to marry your prom date, it’s a safe bet your spouse isn’t too interested either. More importantly, it’s confusing for your children. You can’t use your own hijinks as a cautionary tale. That’ll just up the ante for whatever shenanigans they plan on chasing.
4. Plan ahead. Proms are, in my humble and curmudgeonly opinion, completely out of control. They now feature limos and videos and the exalted “promposals” that are captured on digital devices and uploaded to the social media de jour. But then it’s the kids’ prom, not ours. You’ve got to play along, to some extent, and prom sneaks up on folks. Things get busy fast. Subtle but deliberate and even calendared reminders can help to avert some crises. Corsages are in heavy demand on the day of the dance. Dresses disappear from the stores. Everything costs a fortune.
The peer pressure to “do it right” (with no clear definition of what “doing it right” entails) brings to light economic realities that are best dealt with way before the two-week mark. If your children don’t have the money, and if you do, this is a good time to help them out. You can have them pay you back, or remind them to get a job, but as much as is possible for your circumstances, try not to have your teen feel left out by the increasingly unreasonable standards. I agree that these standards are ridiculous, but your kid will never forgive you if you try to change these standards in a public way before that prom is over. Do the best you can.
5. Don’t supply booze! This includes giving your child alcohol or having alcohol at your house for the prom party. Besides the fact that this sends a highly mixed message, it is, most importantly, highly illegal and extremely dangerous. District attorneys around the country have started issuing warnings and pressing criminal charges against parents who knowingly serve alcohol at their homes at after-prom parties. Many parents feel that this is the best way to keep kids safe, but evidence suggests that kids in America are much more likely to consume dangerous amounts of liquor if they sense it is sanctioned by a parent.
This brings up the obvious question: Will kids still drink?
Probably — though, to be sure, not all kids do.
Either way, you can tell your teens that you’d like them be super careful, maybe even more careful than they usually are. If kids find themselves in over their heads, they ought to be able to call you and know that you will come get them, no questions asked. If they feel sick, you’ll take care of them. If their friends need to go to the hospital, you’re either calling the ambulance or driving them yourself. And you are always, always happy to be the bad guy. Let them blame you and your expressed wrath for whatever stupid thing their friends want them to do. In other words, “I’d go, guys, but my mom will totally kill me.” You can take that heat a lot more than your kid can or wants to.
[See: 10 Concerns Parents Have About Their Kids’ Health.]
Every culture has its coming-of-age rituals. Ours happens somewhere between late April and early June in high schools all over America. Take plenty of photos, smile, and then get together with friends for dinner and a movie. That might be the only setting where you’ll be permitted to describe, with restraints of course, whatever you happen to recall from your own special prom experience.
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A Parent’s Guide to a Kid’s First Prom originally appeared on usnews.com
