Whilst we understand and value the incredibly important role that mothers or mother figures have in the lives of their sons, it is the relationship between ‘a father and son’ that is the focus of my reflection.

This coming December, I complete 30 years of working in boys' education, most of that time, based in Australia. Looking back, it has been an extraordinary journey. Perhaps the highlight being the establishment of a schools-based ‘International Service-Learning Programme’. 

The programme developed a ‘way of seeing’ that enabled students and adults from schools across Australia to embrace a deeper way to live – in relation to themselves, to others and in solidarity with the ‘poor and marginalised’. We grounded the work in lived experiences by inviting participants to engage in humble service work in India, Nepal, Indonesia, the Pacific Islands and in the outback of Australia. This was often conducted alongside Mother Teresa's Missionary of Charity Nuns, in their Homes for the Destitute and Dying.

I am deeply fond of the old quotation: "Tell me and I may forget, show me and I may remember but involve me and I will understand."

One of the programmes involved annually taking a group of 40 fathers (or another nominated male from the family) and sons on a journey to Alice Springs, Australia, to live and work for two weeks alongside students and staff from Yipirinya School. At that time I had been invited by the Principal to work as Counsellor at the school. Yipirinya is one of the few genuinely independent Aboriginal schools in Australia. It is managed by an Indigenous Council and caters for students from the town camps of Alice Springs and outlying bush communities. Students come from very disadvantaged backgrounds where poverty, neglect and abuse are common.

The intent was to humbly assist the students of Yipirinya School in their learning. In the process fathers and sons gained a deeper appreciation of the Aboriginal culture, spirituality and connection with the land; to begin to understand the conditions in which people live and the issues they face, so that in considering their needs, the students (fathers and sons) would come to know themselves better. What was most exciting about this annual journey was the focus on ‘father and son’ working alongside one another. In a world where family is all important, here was the opportunity to enrich the parent-child relationship. The fathers and sons travelled lightly and humbly, not so much lugging their own knowledge around, but rather listening and learning.

I want to focus for a few moments on the thinking underpinning a ‘father (or a nominated male) and son journey’. So many boys and young men that I have worked with continue to experience what I call an immense ‘father hunger’. For some, it's as if the absence of a significant male, has left an aching hole inside that's never really filled. Perhaps it’s the single most prevalent absence in the human soul, and maybe one of the most painful. But the pain can be hidden, quiet, denied, and takes on many shapes and forms.

I remember a student self-referring for counselling. He started to tell his life story. He said "it’s like a great and rugged mountain range. Because between me and my father, it's like there is an impossible canyon." His father is a Science professor. Once when the young man had asked his father about God, his father told him incredibly bluntly “Science is my god. If you can’t prove it, I cannot talk about it. If it's not logical, I don’t believe it.” The son was just the opposite, a very sensitive young man, and so he grew up with a stranger for a father. It was as though he and his father lived in two different worlds, and that those worlds never touched. Nothing life-giving ever passed between them.

As he was telling his story, I could sense this young man was enjoying, even relishing, the experience. Then suddenly, after about an hour, he stopped and looked at me. “You’re listening to me!” he said in amazement and near tears. “My Dad never once listened to me, but you’re listening to me. How can I ever thank you.”

Whenever I reflect on that young man, I realise that he is just one of legions. Thousands and thousands of males, young and old, feel as he does, growing up without a father’s understanding and affirmation. So they always have this primal longing and hunger for it, and they then search for it from their teachers here at school, and their sports coaches, to find any male who will offer to listen to them.

In my day-to-day counselling work, at schools and in private practice, I meet ‘father hunger’ in many different forms, including; anger, resistance, defiance, anxiety, ongoing low mood, and risk-taking behaviour. Father hunger, at times, develops into a full-blown ‘father wound’.

It is my hope to spend time during the coming months reflecting on options and counselling/family interventions for ‘healing the father wounds’, and to find ways to incorporate these interventions into my counselling work. Perhaps the time has come to explore some new father and son journeys like the one we set up at Yipirinya School in Alice Springs.

I would be interested in hearing your thoughts. Email: jh@kingshigh.school.nz or call on 021-400-674

James, School Counsellor