The Riddle of the Sphinx

In this piece, the Riddle of the Sphinx is not “What goes on four legs in the morning, two at noon and three in the evening?” That’s an easy one (the answer is Man).  No, this piece is about a creature that the Sphinx never encountered (to its great fortune)—the teenager. What happens to those cute and cuddly beings, who till recently were our pride and joy and always eager to please their doting parents?  Who replaced them with these veritable zombies, lurking around during night’s meanderings and loathe to ever see the sun? What happened to ensure that their best friends are virtual, probably more bot than human? And what of the mobile, their inseparable companion hiding many a secret but as impenetrable as The Beast (the US President’s car)? Is there any possible way of deciphering what the hell is really going on with them, or are the mysteries of the teenage brain so obscure that even the Greeks gave up trying to find the answers?

Hormones, say some.  Genes, say others.  Stars, say the astrologists. But how are ALL teenagers so universally alike, irrespective of gender, and descended from both princes and paupers? In short, they all have “The Look”, as the better half so succinctly puts it, and she’s not referring to the Roxette song.  Every parent knows it, and detests it.  A combination of “I know it makes you mad so that makes me happy”, combined with “I know, so don’t waste my time”, added to “Wow, are you really so old?”, with a dollop of “God, there they go again”, with the eyes lifting to caress the brows with surgical precision, just as the chest heaves with a deep sigh of exasperation and the lips converge to form an expression that their strictest teacher would be proud of. And this is usually in response to an innocuous “So how was your day?” ice-breaker.   Imagine what happens when you actually ask them something!

The answer to the Riddle of the Sphinx (why do teenagers behave as they do?), dear parent, is the prefrontal cortex; or to be more specific, the lack of it.  This is the part of the brain that controls logic and reason, and acts like the speed breaker between the thought and the translation of that thought into words and body language.  This speed breaker is under construction during the teenage years, so there’s “nary a slip between the cup and the lip”—it all comes out, unfiltered.  Didn’t like the food becomes “Why do we always have to eat such trash?” Couldn’t go for an uninhibited shopping spree becomes “Why are we the only poor family in the world?” The home wifi not working (or Armageddon) becomes “So what am I supposed to do now?” Indeed, O Harried One, what are you supposed to do? While great warriors believe that attack is the best form of defense, they probably never had to battle with teenagers.  Which is why parents are probably the noblest Knights of the Round Table.  They joust with words, not arms. They seek to establish equilibrium, not superiority.  They ensure they don’t contribute to either global warming or noise pollution, as one teenager does enough of this for the entire family.  But we must not mistake détente for defeat.  The desire to maintain domestic harmony cannot override the primary responsibility of ensuring that the teenager metamorphoses into a functioning adult (hopefully). So please keep the peace, but let the teenager know you can become the police if needed. And please don’t judge your teenager or yourself too harshly—after all, it’s not their hormones or your genes; the fault lies not in the stars but in biology, for the prefrontal cortex needs 6 years of the teenager (and millions of white hairs for you) to make them an adult for life.  A fair deal, wouldn’t you say?