Every parent wants to know what's going on in their children's heads and what experiences are shaping their personalities. Most parents realize there are truths that their kids aren't telling them. Not knowing can be frustrating. The only way to excavate those private truths is to be patient with your kids and truly listen. When a child screams or acts out or challenges us, we should listen past what they're saying and hear what it is they really need. In other words, aside from listening to what are kids are telling us, we also need to discover what kids aren't telling us.

Giving a child a forum to express himself or herself is empowering. Parents need to allow their kids to express their emotions. Unfortunately, for too many fathers and mothers it's an inconvenience to hear about their child's anxieties. Some parents try to diminish their children's problems as unimportant. These kids become marginalized so that they're barely in their parents' lives. That negates or minimizes the child's emotions, which can affect him or her in various ways. What parents need to understand is that kids can't learn and struggle for achievement in school and become who they need to become in a meaningful way until one's emotions are in balance with the brain. Only then can a student achieve what he or she needs to accomplish.

This book provides stunning examples of kids who were permitted to freely express their feelings. The truths they told me run the gamut of emotions. Few people, whether parents or teachers or other caregivers, ever provided them the opportunity to speak out. I did, and the results often altered their young lives in positive ways.

I hope you'll see from reading these tales how important it is to get kids to open up and express their feelings and opinions, and how vital it is to pay attention. We can all learn a lot from listening to kids.

I asked if any of the students were victims of persistent name-calling.

Latosha raised her hand. "Yeah, they call me Miss Piggy, Zit Face, Don King Hair, and the Beast."

"How does that make you feel?" I asked.

"I laughed when the boys teased me, but it really hurt inside."

"What did you do about it?" I asked.

"I learned to play the violin."

That surprised me. I asked her to tell us her story.

"I was born illegitimately. My Mom remarried a light-skinned man who didn't want to recognize me as his own. My Mom and step dad had two other children who they gave their focus to. My Mom was economically tied to my step dad. But he didn't respect me.

"One summer, I put on forty pounds. I had an interest in the violin, and even though I was very shy I went to talk to the music teacher. She told me, 'Obviously, a girl your size wouldn't look good behind a violin.'

"But I chose to play the violin because I loved it and because she said I couldn't do it. I built a soundproof room in my basement with glass windows so I could still watch my little brother and sister while I practiced. I practiced six to eight hours a day.

"In my senior year, I had an audition for one of the best music conservatories. I was so scared but knew if they were going to accept me they had to take me for me. I showed up in my Oakland Raiders jacket and announced to them I was from Newark, New Jersey. I knew they would never suspect a black girl from Newark would ever know Bach, so that's what I played. When I looked out into the audience after the first three bars, I knew I had that four-year scholarship. But that wasn't the important thing. My step dad was in the front row crying. I didn't know if he was crying because he was finally proud of me or because he was embarrassed for they way he had treated me all those years. But one thing I knew standing up there playing was that I had found myself, and nobody could ever take that away from me."

Early in the session, a sandy haired, scruffy looking boy named Billy rose from his seat. He exploded with anger as he told his story.

"My step-dad ran over my bike and destroyed it. It wasn't even in the driveway but over on the side. My bike is how I get to school. I live four miles away.

"That night when he got home, he came in my room and grabbed me and beat me till I couldn't hear anymore. I couldn't hear for four days. I've got to take it because my Mom and little sister live there, and he pays rent."

I was focused on Billy as he told his stirring story and didn't notice the rest of the group. Then I looked around. I saw the co-captain cheerleader, covered with ribbons and awards, dripping tears onto her desk. To take the attention off Billy, who had become so emotional, I asked the cheerleader if she was alright.
Through her tears, she said, "I used to get depressed when my Mom and Dad asked me to clean my room."

Everyone burst out with laughter, including Billy. We laughed for five minutes, bringing a welcome relief from the tension. As I looked at the kids before me, I saw a different light in everyone's eyes. Communication will do that.

He replied, "I am, but I try not to take it personally."