The Guide · Raising Boys
What every teenage boy needs today — and how the parents, coaches, and mentors around him can actually help. From two decades of working with young men on and off the screen.

Author & mentor · Updated Jul 2026 · 14 min read

A teenage boy in 2026 is handed a smartphone and a world of noise, and almost no map for either. He is expected to look like he has it all figured out long before anyone has shown him how. The result is a generation of young men who are quietly overwhelmed — and rarely asked how they’re really doing.
For two decades I’ve worked with boys at exactly this age: on television sets, in gyms and classrooms, in coaching rooms, and in the hardest rooms of all — families in crisis. The pattern is remarkably consistent. Teen boys are not lazy, cold, or beyond reaching. They are under-mentored. They are starving for one honest adult who will tell them the truth without a lecture attached.
This guide is the map I wish someone had handed me at fifteen. It’s written for the boy himself, and for every parent, coach, and mentor standing in his corner. It’s also the foundation of my forthcoming book, Teen Boys — but everything below stands on its own.
Every generation thinks the next one has it easy. This one doesn’t. The pressures a teenage boy carries today are structurally different from anything that came before, and pretending otherwise is why so many well-meaning adults can’t get through.
Understand these three and you understand why the old advice — “toughen up,” “figure it out” — lands as silence. Boys don’t need more pressure. They need a clearer signal.
Boys rarely say “I’m struggling.” They act it out. Learning to read the behaviour underneath the behaviour is the single most useful skill a parent or mentor can build.
None of these are character flaws. They’re signals. The goal is never to punish the signal — it’s to answer the question the boy is really asking.
The most important thing you can teach a teenage boy is that he is not his emotions — he’s the one experiencing them. Anger, fear, and shame will arrive uninvited for the rest of his life. What he can learn is the half-second of space between the feeling and the reaction, and how to widen it.
I teach this as a physical skill first, because that’s where boys can feel it working: slow the breath, drop the shoulders, name the feeling in plain words. A boy who can say “I’m frustrated right now” out loud has already taken most of the charge out of it. Regulation before conversation — you cannot reason with a flooded nervous system, his or your own.
Boys are sold a counterfeit version of confidence: loud, dominant, never wrong. Real confidence is quieter and far more durable. It’s the settled sense that I can handle what happens — and it’s built the only way it can be, through small promises kept to yourself.
The fastest way to help a boy build it is to give him something genuinely difficult to do, and then get out of the way. Confidence is a residue of competence. It cannot be affirmed into existence, and it cannot be bought. Every time we rescue a boy from a struggle he could have finished, we quietly tell him we don’t think he can.
The conversation about screens goes wrong the moment it becomes a fight about screen time. The real issue isn’t hours — it’s ownership. Is a boy directing his attention, or renting it out to a system designed to keep him scrolling?
I don’t ask boys to hate their phones. I ask them to notice how they feel after twenty minutes of a given app, and to make one honest decision from there. Boys respect being trusted with the truth far more than being handed a rule. The parent who models their own healthy relationship with attention teaches more in a week than a hundred confiscations.
Most conversations with teen boys fail before they start, because they’re staged as interrogations across a kitchen table. Boys open up sideways, not face to face.
There’s a developmental reason a teenage boy stops taking advice from his parents and starts seeking it elsewhere: he’s supposed to. The task of adolescence is to become his own person, which means the people closest to him temporarily lose their authority. This is normal, and it’s exactly why a trusted third adult matters so much.
A coach, an uncle, a family friend, a mentor — someone who isn’t responsible for the rules but is invested in the boy — can say the same true thing a parent has said a hundred times, and this time it lands. If there’s one action I’d ask every family to take, it’s this: find your son at least one good man who isn’t you.
The lie at the centre of so much modern advice for boys is that strength and kindness pull in opposite directions — that to be one you must sacrifice the other. Every genuinely strong man I’ve known has been the opposite. Kindness is what strength is for.
The strongest boy in any room is almost always the kindest, because real strength has nothing to prove. It’s the boy who can stay calm when provoked, stand up for the kid being picked on, and apologise without it costing him anything. That’s the man we’re trying to raise — not one who wins every exchange, but one people can count on.
You don’t need a psychology degree or a perfect childhood of your own. You need to be consistent, honest, and present. A short list to start with tonight:
None of this is complicated. All of it is hard to do consistently. That’s the whole job — and it’s the most important one there is.
Work with Mike
Reading a guide is one thing — having a trusted man in your son's corner is another. Mike works hands-on with teen boys and the families around them, from a single reset conversation to ongoing mentorship.
1:1 mentoring
Regular one-on-one time with a man who tells him the truth and stays in his corner.
Family reset
A structured conversation to break a stuck pattern and get everyone talking again.
When it's serious
Calm, experienced help for families facing a crisis that can't wait.
