Free Simplicity Parenting by Kim John Payne, Lisa M. Ross

snit. It also lasts longer. A child with a soul fever stays “out of sorts,” taking more than a step or two toward their quirky tendencies. A child being sullen is usually just that; but if they’re sullen then feisty, and tangling with friends they usually adore, we might take a second look. Soul fevers begin with a sort of prickliness, which can take different forms. Kids respond to an inner unease characteristically, depending on their temperament. An introverted child may withdraw physically and emotionally, but still perhaps “snipe,” or “take potshots,” at others to announce their discomfort. An extroverted child usually manifests their unease more directly, with anger or blaming.
    The younger the child, the more obvious they make their unhappy state. They may become hypersensitive, aware of itchy labels, twisted tights, noises that they wouldn’t otherwise even notice. Little things bother them. Tantrums become deeper, more intractable. Sleep patterns change. You can often see little changes in their posture: shoulders raised, fists clenched. Most of all, they are much more easily “set off” than usual; their emotional switch has a hair-trigger sensitivity.
    You could say that they are acting “out of character,” but in truth, their character is amplified, almost caricatured. In middle childhood you might see shifts in friendships, in dress or work habits. For middle school kids and teenagers you might notice your child having difficulty settling into things, whether homework, a hobby, or any activity that would usually hold their attention. Of course challenging rules and boundaries is the teenager’s developmental job, but with soul fever you may notice particularly feisty challenges to rules that are firmly in place, accepted, and have never been challenged before.
    Let’s take an extra moment to consider adolescence, a particularly “feverish” developmental stage. Adolescence is all about polarities, and swinging between them. You can picture fairly typical ends of a spectrum: the teenager who is either a whirlwind of activity, or a motionless, dead weight on the couch. The kid who can suddenly outlast you way into the night can also sleep through their little brother’s noon band practice. There is a need to belong in adolescence that’s so intense it seems primal, yet a teenage boy or girl can spend more time alone, in their rooms, than they ever did before. A teenager’s parents know that they can’t make a comment, no matter how innocent, that is absolutely immune to challenge. Most every kid, in adolescence, seems to be heading toward a legal career. Yet among their peers the same child can be the picture of conformity, a wet noodle of agreement and acquiescence.
    The movement between these polarities is the norm in adolescence. When a teenager is having difficulty, when they’re emotionally out of sorts, they tend to get stuck in one extreme or the other, becoming tenacious and myopic. I remember a student I had, Teresa, who was fourteen years old, and her life was rather topsy-turvy. She had many adults in her life (parents, stepparents, and various parent substitutes), but she had little consistent, commanding, and compassionate adult presence. One day in class Teresa was being quite disruptive, in an entertaining, attention-seeking way. When I asked her to get back to her work, she realized that she definitely had everyone’s attention now, and she wanted to escalate the situation. It wasn’t my finest moment as a teacher, but I remember asking her, “Must you be so subjective?” to which she shot back “Do you have to use such big words when you’re losing the argument?” When I explained what subjective meant, using the well-worn cliché of not seeing the forest for the trees, she looked at me with pure disdain. “I’m fourteen, that’s my job!” With that she turned and walked out of the room.
    Teresa was right; teenagers are very self-absorbed. But she was also