Remember when you thought you had parenting figured out? Before the divorce. Before the custody arrangement. Before that wall went up between you and your kids.

You used to know how to make them laugh. You knew their favorite games, their secret fears, the stories that made them feel safe at bedtime. Then everything changed. Now when they visit, there's this... distance. They're polite but guarded. Present but not really there. And you're left wondering if you've lost something you can never get back.

Here's what I learned working with some of the most difficult young men in the Baltimore public school system, and what that taught me about connecting with my own daughters after divorce.

The Three Young Men Who Taught Me Everything

Years ago, I facilitated male youth workshops for Baltimore City Public Schools. Most groups were cooperative, even eager to learn. We'd connect over sports or music, and once I found that key—that thing that made them tick—building the relationship was straightforward.

Then I met three young men who changed everything I thought I knew about connection.

They were hostile. Disruptive beyond anything I'd encountered. They fought, yelled, threw chairs, performed inappropriate dances at completely inappropriate times. Week after week, I tried everything in my toolkit. Nothing worked. Before you judge me, understand something: I watched these young men behave this way with everyone—teachers, administrators, everyone.

I walked into their classroom one week feeling defeated. For the first time in my career, I felt whipped. These three had broken through every defense I had.

That's when I decided to try something different. I brought my chess set.

When the Light Came On

I didn't have high hopes. Chess seemed too quiet, too intellectual for young men who couldn't sit still for five minutes. I set up the board on the center table while preparing my laptop for a movie about chess and life skills.

Then something remarkable happened.

Silence.

No chairs flying. No cursing. No fighting. All the young men gathered around the board. And then I saw it—that light in their eyes. The wheels turning upstairs. Intelligence. Focus. Interest.

The young man who'd given me the most trouble became the group's leader, keeping everyone quiet and attentive during the movie. Then we played. This newly-minted teen gave me the game of my life, defending my attacks with skill and picking apart my defense with precision. When time ran out, we declared a draw, though in my heart—and I suspect in his—we both knew he would have won.

Turns out this young man had been playing chess since he was six. Most of the others had played for years too.

I asked him the question that changed everything: "If you can think three or four moves in advance, study both your options and consequences before making moves, why do you let the other boys here play you out of position? Why do you behave the way you do in class?"

His answer was simple: "I don't know. Sometimes I just get mad."

There it was. Having found their key, I could finally talk to these young men on a completely different level. With genuine respect for one another. With a bond built on something we all loved. They couldn't hide from me anymore. I'd seen the light in their eyes. Their minds working. Their intelligence. Their wit.

All the while I thought I would teach them something. But they're the ones who taught me.

Never give up on our children.

What This Means for Your Kids After Divorce

Your children aren't hostile classroom disruptors. They're dealing with their own version of confusion and pain. The divorce wasn't their choice. The custody schedule wasn't their design. The distance between their parents wasn't their doing.

Like those young men in Baltimore, your kids are acting out their pain in the ways they know how. Maybe they're withdrawn instead of disruptive. Maybe they're overly compliant instead of throwing chairs. Maybe they give you one-word answers instead of fighting.

But somewhere inside them is that same light I saw in those young men's eyes. Your job is to find the key that unlocks it.

The Key Changes With Age

Here's what makes this harder after divorce: the key keeps changing.

The things your eight-year-old loved when you lived together? They might not work anymore at nine or ten. The activities your teenager enjoyed before the separation? They might feel hollow now, associated with a family structure that no longer exists.

Research from the Fuller Youth Institute confirms what I learned in that Baltimore classroom: trust requires consistency (relational longevity) and closeness (relational proximity) Fuller Youth Institute. Without both ingredients, you can be liked but not trusted. Your kids need to see you show up again and again before they'll risk being vulnerable with you again.

According to the Gottman Institute, which studies family relationships extensively, teenagers who don't feel heard will shut down, and the opportunity to build trust disappears. As caregivers, you must postpone your own agendas and be willing to tune into your teenager's world, including hearing their pain and trying to understand their perspectives even if you do not agree with them The Gottman Institute.

This means you might have to become a student of your own children again. Watch what lights them up. Notice what they're naturally drawn to when they're not on their phones. Pay attention to what makes them forget to be guarded around you.

Finding Your Child's Chess Set

For those three young men, chess was the key. What's your child's equivalent?

Maybe it's not a game or sport. Maybe it's cooking together. Working on cars. Building something. Listening to their music without judgment. Watching their favorite shows with genuine interest, not just tolerance.

One divorced father I know discovered his teenage daughter came alive when discussing true crime podcasts. He started listening to the same ones. Not to monitor her—to connect with her. Their conversations about podcast theories became the bridge back to deeper talks about her life, her fears, her hopes.

Another man found that his son, who'd been giving him the silent treatment for months, opened up during late-night drives. Something about not making eye contact, just moving through darkness together, created safety for vulnerable conversation.

The key isn't always obvious. Sometimes you have to try a dozen things before you find the one that works. That's okay. Those young men in Baltimore put me through weeks of hell before I discovered chess. Your kids are worth the same persistence.

When You Feel Like You've Been Whipped

I walked into that classroom feeling defeated. I'd tried everything I knew. Nothing worked. I was ready to quit.

That's the moment when breakthrough often comes—right when you feel most beaten.

Your divorce might have created distance between you and your kids. The custody arrangement might feel impossible. Your ex might be making connection harder than it needs to be. Your kids might seem lost to you.

But here's what I learned from those three young men, and what I had to remember with my own daughters: they're never as lost as they seem.

Somewhere inside them is the child who used to jump into your arms. The teenager who trusts you more than they'll admit. The young adult who still needs their father, even if they can't say it out loud.

You just have to find the key.

The Question That Changes Everything

After I found the key with those young men, after I saw the light in their eyes and understood their intelligence, I could ask them real questions. Questions that mattered. Questions that got to the heart of what was really going on.

"Why do you let others play you out of position when you know how to think ahead?"

That's the question you eventually need to ask your kids, in whatever form makes sense for your relationship. Why do you push away the people who love you most? Why do you make choices that hurt yourself? Why won't you let me help you?

But you can't ask those questions until you've found the key. Until they trust you enough to be honest. Until they believe you're genuinely interested in understanding, not just correcting.

The Light Is Still There

Those three young men taught me something profound: the light never goes out. It might dim. It might hide behind walls of anger or indifference or pain. But it's always there, waiting for someone patient enough to find the key that unlocks it.

Your kids still need you. The divorce hasn't changed that fundamental truth. What's changed is how you have to reach them.

So keep looking for the key. Try new things. Pay attention. Be patient. Show up consistently. Ask questions without demanding answers. Create space without forcing connection.

And remember: you haven't lost them. You're just learning a new way to reach them.

Never give up on your children. They're counting on you not to, even if they can't say it out loud.