Can you see the real me?

This is Squirt, age 16.

As you can see, Squirt has blue-blond hair in the style of his musical hero, Billie Joe Armstrong of Green Day. I know you're taking note of the DayGlo yellow sneakers, the odd symbol around his neck and the stud in his left earlobe.

Made any assumptions? (Sure you have.)

Now look at where he's standing: Beside Johnny Cash's grave. And his tee shirt? Bears the logo of his dad's employer. Notice that happy smile.

Confused yet?

Squirt has heard some form of the following a dozen times in the past few weeks: "What do your parents think of that hair? What do your parents think of that earring? What do your parents think of those shoes? What do your parents think of that (fill in the blank)?"

If I were him, I'd have lost my temper by now. Fortunately, he's shrugged it off like his sweet nature dictates.

That's right. I said "sweet nature."

Are you surprised? (You shouldn't be.)

Squirt is smiling because he's two days into a road trip with his dad, who took a detour so the two of them could visit Johnny Cash's gravesite. Because Billie Joe Armstrong is not Squirt's only musical hero.

He's wearing that tee shirt because he worked hard as Dad's assistant/apprentice during the trip's project hours. Dad earned a comp day. The shirt was Squirt's pay.

I bought Squirt's shoes for him. I also dyed his hair and pierced his ear. He didn't pester or beg, didn't threaten or bully. He approached, we discussed and I agreed and/or obliged, with Dad's blessing.

Squirt's odd necklace is a gift from a friend, an Aborigine symbol for friendship she got last summer during her once-in-a-lifetime trip to Australia and New Zealand. He treasures the necklace, just as he treasures his friend, whom he's known since babyhood.

You're right: Squirt loves loud punk music, loves to play guitar. In fact, his Governor's Honors Program Communicative Arts application essay was about the effect of a generation's music on its ability to express itself. In response to a judge's question, he rattled off five bands he likes – Green Day, the Ramones, the Sex Pistols, Foo Fighters and Blink 182 – and discussed his theory on how modern American punk music originated from British Invasion and American folk influences.

Johnny Cash was a punk, Squirt told them. He never did quite what you expected.

The first homeschooler nominated for GHP in our county, Squirt looked and carried himself well during the GHP interview process in his dress shoes, khakis, button-down shirt and argyle sweater vest. 

His blue hair set off his eyes very nicely.

How are your assumptions holding up? (Wait. There's more.)

Squirt's a rabble-rouser, all right. I mean, just look at him.

He passionately objects to a law in our state that prevents newly licensed drivers from transporting underage passengers from outside their immediate families. Squirt – who scored a 92 percent on his practical driving exam, aced the written portions of his driver's education class tests and earned high praise from both of his instructors – is not legally able to drive a friend to a site where they both wish to do much-needed volunteer work.

"It punishes those of us who are TRYING to do the right thing, just because some other people were stupid," he grouses, resentful of the hoops he has to jump through. (The anarchy-loving little whiner!)

If you knew that my son works for his uncle at a non-profit for pay three days a week but volunteers a fourth day and in off hours at the same non-profit, would you notice Squirt's hair?

If you knew he scraped together a $1,000 down payment on a truck so he can make deliveries and pickups for that non-profit, or that he forgave a customer's delivery charge because "I was just about to fill up, so why should I charge you for something I was gonna do anyway?"or that he makes those truck payments himself out of his monthly pay – would you care what color Squirt's shoes are or what kind of necklace he wears or whether his ear is pierced?

If you knew he once voluntarily left a get-together with his friends to take care of his sister – home alone and running a fever – or that he encourages his little brother to use the bottom bunk in his room when it storms (in case he's frightened), would you care what kind of music Squirt prefers?

Geddy (Dad) and I have met some amazing young people in the past couple of years and consider ourselves blessed to have them in our lives. As their "youth sponsors" or "mentors" or just as their friends (or honorary mom and dad), we know we have benefited from their wisdom and insight perhaps even more than we would have older friends' or relatives' advice.

We are lucky to have learned – before we damaged our relationships with our own children beyond repair – that assuming the worst about people is the one sure way we can make them angry and out of control.

I recently interviewed an amazing middle school principal who talked about investing in her students by showing them respect, by meeting them wherever they are comfortable and successful and working from there.

Couldn't help considering the soul-nurturing benefits our young folks – my wonderful, imperfect, goofy, beautiful punk-ass boy included  – would reap if we just tried her way once in awhile.