Navigating The Gray Areas
What older kids really need is to find their way.
There was a time when I taught psychology at Boise State University, a fine institution full of bright young people and more than its share of good coffee shops. One of my students was Eric—not his real name, but a good, solid name for a good, solid kid. Eric was a standout in every way. He was the kind of student every teacher hopes for: eager, thoughtful, and maybe just a little too enthusiastic. You know the type. Always sitting in the front row, hand waving like a flag in the wind.
Eric loved psychology. He tied lectures together with impressive leaps of logic, quoting theories and concepts as if he were born with a textbook in his hands. When he asked to join my research team, I didn’t hesitate. He brought the same energy to our lab as he did to class—reliable, clever, and just plain good company.
But one day, as his lab shift ended and the other students packed up and left, Eric lingered. I could tell he wasn’t staying for the fun of organizing eye-tracking data. He was chewing on something big, and it wasn’t cafeteria food.
“What’s on your mind, Eric?” I asked, and then he opened the door.
Eric shared that he was struggling. He was gay, and in his community—good, loving, devout folks—being himself felt like an impossible proposition. He couldn’t see a way forward. His parents had expectations, his peers had assumptions, and he felt stuck between two lives: one that pleased everyone else and one that might allow him to be happy.
Now, let’s pause here. This is where the movies would cue a triumphant speech, but I didn’t have one. I’m not a life coach or a sage on a mountaintop. I’m just a psychology teacher who’s burned popcorn in the microwave more times than I’d care to admit. But I did know one thing: life is rarely as simple as black or white.
So, I told Eric the truth. “I don’t know what it’s like to walk in your shoes,” I said. “But I do know what it’s like to want something different from what your parents want for you.” I encouraged him to think of his situation not as a problem to solve but as an experiment.
“What if your parents surprise you?” I asked. “What if there’s a way to build a life that doesn’t force you to choose between them and your happiness? What skills would you need to create that?”
Eric left my office with a big smile, the kind that starts small but keeps growing like a sunrise. “This is the best non-advice I’ve ever gotten,” he said.
Parenting and teaching often feel like tightrope acts, balancing rules with relationships, expectations with individuality. But if there’s one thing Eric taught me, it’s that kids don’t need us to have all the answers. They need us to create space for their questions, to meet them in the gray areas with patience and love.
So much of social-emotional learning is about letting go of certainty and trusting in the process. In his biblical book of poetry and pithy sayings, King Solomon reminds us:
A person’s steps are directed by the Lord. How then can anyone understand their own way? — Proverbs 20:24
What kids are truly looking for isn’t clairvoyance or control—they’re looking for a chance to grow, with our support as their foundation. Our kids are looking for faith—not the kind that demands answers, but the kind that helps them find their own, trusting that they can step forward even when the path isn’t clear.
What would it be like for you to walk beside your kids as they find their way?
How would you teach them to navigate the uncertainty with honesty, grace, and courage?