We have to learn some lessons the hard way

I was the new kid on the block. Phil was the guy on the block who'd never really fit in. We were both a bit shy, a bit cautious. Neither of us was likely to be elected "most social" in our junior high school.

Not surprisingly, Phil and I became friends. At first this may have been simply because we were fellow misfits, but our friendship was nurtured by our discovery of a mutual love of history, science fiction, politics, and my cousin Sue (but that's another story). And by the time the powers that be thought we were ready to head off to high school, we were clearly "best friends."

As Phil's house was on the trek across town to school - and, yes, we really did walk the mile and a quarter to high school - we naturally fell into the pattern of my picking him up along the way. Sometimes we were joined by other friends whose routes intersected ours, but it was always Phil and me at the center of things.

One of our occasional companions was Dennis. In retrospect, Dennis was what you'd call a bit slick. He probably went on to be a very successful used car salesman, politician, or career embezzler. I guess I still have a few hard feelings about Dennis. To be a bit more charitable, he was likely just like all the rest of us - struggling to figure out how to, and where to, fit in.

Dennis was a bit jealous of Phil and my friendship. And though I tried to make Dennis a friend of mine, there seemed to be no room in his plans for me. I didn't know this at the time, of course, but found out soon enough.

One fateful day, Phil stayed home with the flu and it wound up being just Dennis and me hiking to school. Somewhat to my surprise, Dennis turned the conversation toward his take on some of Phil's eccentricities, in particular Phil's affinity for "The Lawrence Welk Show." "Now, you gotta admit, Potts, that's a bit weird."

How much would I give to rewind the videotape and erase this next part. "Well, yeah, I guess." Mission accomplished, Dennis changed the topic.

That night, I got a phone call from Phil. It was short and blunt. "You know, I don't think I can be friends with someone who thinks I'm weird." He went on to explain that Dennis had called and reported on our walk to school.

I was crushed. I fumbled to explain myself, to apologize. But forgiveness was not something that came easy to Phil.

We finished our high school career on speaking terms, but certainly not on friendly terms. I never really found another best friend until I went away to college.

This all came to mind when I heard one of my own teenagers lamenting how difficult it was to navigate the interpersonal minefields of adolescence. And I wished so much that I could help her, could teach her simple lessons like "don't say anything behind someone's back you wouldn't say to his face," or that I could clue her in on how to identify people who, for whatever reasons, are less than trustworthy.

Come to think of it, I can remember my own parents trying to impart such lessons to me. I can even remember the exact words they used. So I did listen. Sometimes, though, I just had to learn the hard way.

That may be one of the most difficult parts of being parents. First, we have to figure out when to let our kids learn the hard way. Then, we need to watch them struggle with the confusion, frustration, and pain of such lessons.

And, finally, we have to pick our kids up, dust them off, give them a sympathetic hug, and find a way to reinforce the lesson they have just learned without reverting to an "I told you so."

Which reminds me of another lesson my mom and dad tried to impart to me: "Being a parent is anything but easy."

• Dr. Ken Potts is on the staff of Samaritan Counseling Center in Naperville and Downers Grove. He is the author of "Mix Don't Blend, A Guide to Dating, Engagement and Remarriage With Children."