I didn't ask my kiddos' permission to post the two cutie-patootie photos of them above. (I hope they won't get angry about it. How could they mind having everyone see them looking this lovely? Amiright?!) Since they're now 22 and 25, they don't look like this any longer to anyone but their dad and me; we see them as the adults they are AND as all the ages they've passed through to get here. (If you want to read a cool short story about this layering of ages, I recommend Sandra Cisneros' "Eleven.")
In addition to writing this wildly popular (at least among people related to me) blog, I teach English and am Dean of the Class of 2025, 168 students who are currently seniors in high school. Sometimes, a six-foot-plus, facial-hair-sporting or otherwise mature-looking, voting-eligible 2025 will come into my office, and objectively, that student looks like an adult. Then, they open their mouth to explain what they were thinking or their tear ducts begin to leak the sadness they're experiencing over the consequences of their own or their friends' actions, and their faces transform before my eyes. I see the children they still are.
My school is currently renovating the dining hall, so we're using a temporary dining facility (in the school's indoor tennis courts -- it sounds ugly, but it's not) across the street from our classrooms. One walk across to get breakfast last winter reminded me of the youthfulness of my 2025s. The first sweet 2025 who passed me going the other way was walking in the snow next to the path rather than on the dry path itself. When I asked why he was off to the side, he said that he liked the feel and sound of the crunching snow under his feet. The second thoughtful 2025 I crossed was staring up at the sky. When I asked her what she saw, she told me that "there are some really cool shapes in the clouds."
Both students could not have been more earnest in their answers, yet both are taller than I am. Both are legally old enough to marry, get a tattoo, buy cigarettes, vote, serve on a jury, enter into a binding contract, own property, or gamble without their parents' consent.
I'm not sure I agree with the judgment behind all of these laws because I know that in many ways, eighteen-year-old humans are still children who make immature choices. BUT, they also look at the world through eyes of wonder, seeing their surroundings with curiosity and joy. Knowing this about them makes me happy to learn with and from them every day.
Did you feel like an adult at eighteen? Do you now? Please share your responses in the comments.
Being 18 was hard enough without all those added rights and privileges. That is not an age I would want to revisit. I do value my inner 12-year-old. For your students, maybe that’s the part that was snow-walking and cloud-gazing.
Well said!
PS: those are wonderful photos!
Couldn’t agree more — wonderful photos of wonderful girls!