![]() Over the summer, we had barely spoken to each other-or, more accurately, he had barely spoken to me. ![]() But I could not stop thinking about my 14-year-old son, who had started eighth grade three weeks earlier and was already resuming what had become his pattern of skipping homework, disrupting classes, failing math, and tuning out any adult who tried to reach him. I sipped champagne, greeted foreign dignitaries, and mingled. Obama hosted a glamorous reception at the American Museum of Natural History. On a Wednesday evening, President and Mrs. Eighteen months into my job as the first woman director of policy planning at the State Department, a foreign-policy dream job that traces its origins back to George Kennan, I found myself in New York, at the United Nations’ annual assemblage of every foreign minister and head of state in the world.
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