Pope Francis doesn't have to put up with teenagers slamming bedroom doors in the Vatican or toddlers flinging communion wafers in the kitchen, but he had some sound parenting advice for his American audience.

When he addressed the bishops in Philadelphia last week, he talked about the challenges facing modern families. The family is at the crux of most religions, so he's got a vested interest in helping the institution along.

He drew an analogy from the way economies have shifted from smaller, intimate markets built on relationships and necessity to big-box superstores built on competition and consumption. We are raising children in a culture that is increasingly competitive, in which business is no longer conducted on the basis of trust, and consumption reigns supreme.

"Today's culture seems to encourage people not to bond with anything or anyone, not to trust," he said.

It's a mistake to see the younger generation's indifference to marriage and family as simple selfishness or some other character flaw, he said. The root of these contemporary situations, he offered, is a "widespread and radical sense of loneliness."

What a poignant way to describe our social condition. There is a documented increase in feelings of loneliness, and not just among the young. I've had days when some kind of digital communication has felt like the most "real" connection to people I've had. Indeed, the human experience is one of recognizing that we are alone and seeking ways to alleviate it -- to connect and feel recognized. Perhaps we once turned toward our churches and families for that sense of connection. Now, we chase "likes" and accumulate "friends" on social networks, the pope said.

He argued that this shift in where we seek validation wounds our culture. Fierce competition and vapid consumption undermine social bonds and human relationships.

This is a legitimate and familiar critique. The strength in the pope's argument rests in the line he draws between the current economic realities to the decline of familial ties, marriage and social bonds.

He brought up the same point with both the bishops and Congress alike: We are living in a culture which pressures some young people not to start a family because they lack the material means to do so, and others because they are so well-off that they are happy as they are.

That pressure on one end to be economically stable is about more than lifestyle choices. It's about survival. It's responsible to start a family only when you are able to support one. But staggering student debt, coupled with fewer well-paying job opportunities and skyrocketing housing costs, would give any sensible young adult pause before starting a family.

On the other end, he highlighted the growing income inequality between the poor and middle class and the wealthy. Marriage rates among the non-college-educated have fallen sharply in the last few decades, creating a "marriage gap."

Francis asked the bishops, "Are today's young people hopelessly timid, weak, inconsistent?" He admonished anyone for thinking so.

Of course they aren't.

They are growing up in more pressure-filled homes and schools, in a culture with far less compassion. The cultural shifts and changing economy both contribute to weakening families in America.

Someone with hefty moral authority needed to call out political and religious leaders who preach "family values" without valuing policies that actually support families.

He didn't let parents off the hook, either.

He recalled being approached by mothers in Buenos Aires complaining about children who were 30, 32 or 34 years old and still single.

"Well, stop ironing their shirts!" he told them.

It's true. We can offer a financial cushion or launching pad for young adults without catering to them like children.

The pope's straight talk on parenting and families underscored the heart of his message: Raising a family transforms the world and human history.

One time in seventh grade, I sought help from my school's guidance counselor.

My mom used to pick me up after school, and I waited in front of the building with a few other students. One of my peers took this opportunity daily to inform me that my mother was a "raghead." She covered her hair and wore hijab as an expression of her faith. This wasn't always well-tolerated in the suburban Houston community where I was raised.

My classmate clearly had a problem with it. I tried ignoring him, but he was persistent.

I got tired of hearing him abuse my mother, but I didn't dare tell my parents what was happening. I finally approached the counselor, Mr. Clark, and told him that Jordan kept calling my mother a raghead.

I will never forget his response.

He said, "Asha" (he could never pronounce my name correctly), "there are going to be people in this world who aren't going to like you for who you are. That's just the way it's going to be."

That was the extent of his involvement in the matter.

Jordan kept calling my mom names whenever he saw me, and I kept trying to ignore him.

I don't suppose my experience was very different from countless other students who may have been brown or black or disabled or fat or a target in any other way. And Mr. Clark spoke a lot of truth in what he told me. It was an important lesson, although I didn't need to be harassed every day after school to have learned it.

Times have changed in the intervening decades, and adults in schools today would take a dimmer view of a student using slurs to taunt someone. But in some ways, the environment seems more pernicious now than it did when my fellow parents and I were growing up, at the mercy of our peers.

School officials may have cracked down on bullying, but they've enshrined their own biases in "no-tolerance policies" and "security concerns" that disproportionately target minority and poor students.

Tia Stevens, an assistant professor of criminology and criminal justice at the University of South Carolina, said that by age 18, about 18 percent of youth have been arrested at least once.

For black youth, that goes up to more than a quarter, she said.

But is that an expression of minorities getting involved in more suspect behavior? I asked.

"If you look at official data, such as arrests and court appearances, you see disparities among races," she said. But if you look at self-reported data by youth about the frequency at which they commit certain crimes, the differences are very slight, she said.

"What that means is, there are other things happening that influence the risk of arrest and involvement in the criminal justice system," she explained. "Many schools become feeders into the criminal justice system."

Her research made me consider the case of the now-famous freshman from MacArthur High School who was arrested and suspended for bringing a homemade clock to school. Ahmed Mohamed has since withdrawn from the Irving, Texas school that suspended him. The backlash to his arrest included invitations to the biggest companies in Silicon Valley, the top engineering schools in the country and the White House.

The vast majority of the world questioned whether teachers would have treated a student of another race or religion the same way with an item they clearly deemed right away wasn't dangerous, and one they admit was never presented as anything other than a clock.

No teacher, principal or police officer who encountered Ahmed's clock was scared of it -- consider that the bomb squad was never called, nor was the school evacuated or the clock isolated. And Ahmed never tried to pass it off as a threat. So did he still need to be arrested and suspended? Without his parents ever being called?

"Sadly, I didn't find it surprising," Stevens said. "He fits a common pattern we're seeing across the country."

While the rest of the country stood with Ahmed, there was a doubling down in Irving on what was perceived as bigotry. The principal defended the teachers and himself. The police chief defended the officers. The mayor defended the school officials and police.

They defended a zero-tolerance system that criminalizes noncriminal behavior. A system that allows schools to suspend students for bringing items they never intended to use as weapons -- a butter knife, a science project.

I wonder how it would have impacted me if Mr. Clark, my guidance counselor, had listened to my concerns and said, "But why does your mother wear that scarf, anyway? Perhaps Jordan is right."

Thankfully, that's not what he did. Even his non-intervention more than 20 years ago showed more common sense and compassion than Texas school officials did with Ahmed.

Perhaps they should consider how they would have responded to their own child, wearing a NASA shirt, bringing a project to school to impress his teacher. How many teachers and principals would defend seeing their own child led away in handcuffs for the same action?

You don't need to consult a bullying policy to know the answer.

You need to consult your conscience.

A celebration at the Buddhist center lost its zen when Sean Grover's daughter had a complete meltdown.

She was 6 or 7 years old at the time, and didn't want to leave the party. Her father dragged her out as she shrieked at him, "I hate you! You're stupid!"

Grover, a psychotherapist who works with children, says he hit rock-bottom in his despair as a parent that night. The incident drove him to seek professional parenting advice himself. The message he received changed his relationship with his daughter, and shaped his views on how parents can regain a sense of control when they feel completely lost.

Grover recently published his insights in "When Kids Call the Shots: How to Seize Control From Your Darling Bully -- and Enjoy Being a Parent Again."

He has seen an epidemic of bullied parents in his own practice -- adults being pushed around by hostile, aggressive kids. The "darling bullies" badger, manipulate and name-call. How did American parents get here? It helps to understand basic child development.

Every phase of childhood comes with a test period, he explains. Nature puts parents on a collision course: Children feel a surge of independence but are not equipped to handle it, then parents step in and spoil their fun.

"As soon as kids learn to walk, they want to get rid of you," he said.

When parents don't provide leadership, structure and boundaries around children's developmental test times, there are gaps left in a child's maturity, he said. Children grow, but they don't mature. This may be why you've seen your teenaged nephew speaking to his mother the same way he did when he was 5.

"It's not unusual to see college students having temper tantrums," Grover said. They haven't been taught to manage frustration properly.

Nearly all children will argue or try to negotiate their way out of a situation at some point. The severity and frequency determine whether their behavior has crossed into bullying. You know your child has become a bully when the scales of power in the parent-child relationship have shifted.

Grover's book begins the repair process by focusing the parent inward, having him or her take inventory of the parenting they received as a child. His book guides readers to consider the "light" and "dark" aspects of how they were parented. The next step is for parents to examine their own parenting behavior -- to figure out how they are responding, in interactions with their kids, to those lessons and emotions from their own childhoods.

Parenting awakens dormant feelings from our youth.

Adults who had authoritarian parents tend to overcompensate in the other direction by being too permissive, Grover said. They don't want to be the strict overlords they grew up under. Parents who are bullied were often raised by very strict parents, he said.

The balancing act involves remaining compassionate, listening to what your child is trying to say and hearing him, while also remaining firm in your authority as a parent. Remaining calm when your child is (over)reacting emotionally, pushing all your buttons and provoking you to respond takes incredible self-control and hard work.

"I did a lot of work on myself," Grover said. "Not losing my temper. Not becoming reactive."

"You can't be a good parent without making unpopular executive decisions," he said.

That bears repeating: You can't be a good parent without making unpopular executive decisions.

But those decisions should not be made in anger or as responses to our triggers.

The advice Grover received from the parenting guru he sought out?

Take your daughter to breakfast three times a week. Don't try to preach to her, share life lessons or tell stories about yourself during this time. Just listen.

He gave his daughter a chance to share her thoughts in a relaxed setting. In the midst of conflict at home, he maintained his own calm. Grover began to see how his own upbringing was influencing his reactions, and he worked on changing himself.

Within time, all the bullying in his home vanished.

Ultimately, parenting is a chance to heal ourselves.