“That is private, Mom!” She shrieked, from rose-tinted, angry lips; her slim frame engaged in full on pre-pubescent sass and terpsichore: eye rolls, neck rolls, arms flailing. Huh, I thought, as I answered with my very own patented dance move: the serious as hell, side-eye, no jazz hands needed. “Hmmp!” Battle aborted.
This family room sass-off began over an undisclosed screen name linked to an unauthorized account on a social networking site. The name-only a slight variation on the approved screen name for her authorized internet activity- had the potential for disaster in the online world. Think: Nicknamexox versus Nicknamexxx. In a letter, my sweet Yael inadvertently went from eleven to eleventy-seven. Reaches for smelling salts. And, this is precisely why I inspect what I expect. Now, you may call it snooping, meddling, invading privacy, I call it parental involvement.
I located the account in my fairly regular sweep of her computer’s internet history and activity, a practice I honed to a science when Jordan was just a few years older than she is now. Through the years, I’ve put the kibosh on a few drank parties, my-parents-aren’t-home-bring-girls parties, libelous rants about me for putting the kibosh on said parties, and other potentially disastrous suburban kid shenanigans. Potentially disastrous findings- yes, extraordinary-no. In truth, if I hadn’t engaged in my share of stupid kid stuff, I wouldn’t know where to look.
Save for the screen name, the content was…well, impressive. I came across some exceptionally well-written Salinger-esque short stories, ripe with colorful language and a notable- humorous, even- disdain for authority. Geniously creative or semi-autobiographical? Hmm, could I be the “headmistress” of whom she speaks? One never knows. Alas, my work here was done, we agreed to change the screen name, I encouraged her to use spell check for the words that are actually in the dictionary, and reminded her that the well-timed placement of expletives is a bonus not a substitute for good writing. Between us here, they were very well placed.
And so it goes, for me anyway. She’s still undone about the “invasion”, and I suppose some of you feel the same way. Why do I do it, these egregious invasions of my children’s privacy? Well, the nay-sayers have a point, I do have trust issues. I don’t trust the capacity for sound judgment in even the most developed, well-adjusted child’s mind when paired against the equally skilled maladjusted mind of a predator. The internet is at once anonymous and personally invasive, deepening my concern not so much for what my children will do when I’m not looking, as it does what others may do because I’m not looking.
What are your thoughts about young people and internet privacy, or privacy in general? Do you inspect what you expect?
