Ego-strength helps kids cope with power of The Grown-up

A reader calls my cell phone. Leaves a voice mail. Can I please call him to discuss a column?

I talk to readers from time to time. It's fun for me. But my curiosity here is how this guy got my cell number. The folks at my work know better than to give it out. It's not listed. Hmm ...

The next day my middle son spills the beans. He gave it out.

See, in the divorce, my wife got custody of our published phone number. And, for months afterward, my name was still attached to that number. The reader called and my 14-year-old son answered. To the best of his ability, he recounts this verbatim:

Reader: "Is Steven Kalas there?"

Aaron: "No."

Reader: "Where is he?"

Aaron: "He doesn't live here anymore."

Reader: "Why not?"

Aaron: "My mom and dad are divorced."

Reader: "Oh, that's too bad. Where can I reach him?"

Aaron: "I can give you his cell phone number." (Here he gives the number.)

Reader: "What's your name?"

Aaron: "Jeff. Who's calling please?"

Reader: "Oh, I'm just answering your dad's ad in the newspaper."

The reader never gave his name.

Two days later, my son brought it up to me. He looked guilty. He'd been feeling guilty and unsettled about the phone call. And what makes that even more significant is I had never instructed him specifically not to give out my cell phone number.

I'm saying that my boy knew intuitively something had happened that wasn't OK. And he was right. He'd gotten, well, schmoozed. Led down a primrose path. I can't defend the word "seduced," but my fingers are itchy to type it.

Aaron was caught off guard, and didn't really regain his wits until he thought to give the caller the false name "Jeff." He couldn't even explain why he lied about his name. My sense was that it was a preconscious reflex of self-protection. Something about the conversation felt invasive and wrong. While he couldn't put a clear and conscious finger on it, some deeper wisdom in him reacted.

We raised Aaron to be well-mannered. We raised Aaron to respect the authority of adults. Both of these qualities make him a classy kid. And both qualities make him vulnerable.

A stranger did not identify himself. Wanted to know where I was. Why I didn't live there. My son's name. Aaron describes the voice as upbeat, affable, friendly. So of course it took several moments for Aaron's deeper voice of wisdom and warning to catch up with the incongruous persona of the caller.

A disclaimer: This reader was not predatory. Probably as affable and friendly as he appeared to be. Harmless. Just sorely lacking in some telephone decorum and propriety. You don't pump unsuspecting children for information about their parents.

But my boy's experience creeped me out, not because of the reader but because of what the experience illustrates. Is it possible to overstate how vulnerable children are in the company of adults? Physically, psychologically, socially, economically, ego-strength -- where does the adult not have the advantage?

A mere voice on a telephone, and just like that my boy is overwhelmed by the authority of The Grown-up.

What if The Grown-up had been an admired and trusted coach, teacher, youth leader or relative?

This is how sexual exploitation happens. When a child is pinned by the power of The Grown-up, there's very little distance between "Cool Frisbee, kid! Let me see it," and "Shh -- it's OK, this feels real good."

Frozen like a deer in the headlights. Hypnotized. Paralyzed. Years later in therapy, adults will recount the shame of a complete surrender of soul. Passive obedience. Out of body. The power of The Grown-up transformed them from a child into a marionette. "I said yes," a recovering victim will bemoan, horrified, "that I liked it, that it was OK!"

Parents, we hate it when our kids are contrary and combative and surly and defiant. But, gotta tell you, when my kids are thus ornery, a part of me thanks God and gives myself a pat on the back. Because it means my kids have ego-strength. They trust me and themselves enough to push back. To take a stand. To mobilize boundaries and to summon the necessary anger to defend those boundaries. This speaks to self-respect.

Ego-strength comes in handy should you ever cross the path of someone sick, evil and predatory.

Steven Kalas is a behavioral health consultant and counselor at Clear View Counseling and Wellness Center in Las Vegas. His columns appear on Tuesdays and Sundays. Questions for the Asking Human Matters column or comments can be e-mailed to skalas@review journal.com.