Help! This didn't come with instructions! I'm 22, so that means I'm adult, according to merriam-webster.com, which also said that the word adult and the word adultery do not come from the same root word, oddly enough. This title is somewhat of a double entendre. I originally meant adult-ery, in a sort of British construction to mean the things that happen when you're an adult. In a sense though, it is as if I've committed adultery against all things Neverland, Peter, Wendy, and the whole lot of Lost Boys.
I graduated in May. During my final semester of college, they talked about polishing up resumes, what to wear to interviews, and even gave us a nice little booklet about finding places to live and life insurance. It was an understood premise of this booklet that you were now an adult. Did I miss something? Where was the session we were supposed to have about actually BEING adults? I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS! Oh sure, I know all about being responsible and prompt and paying your taxes and all manner of adult-ery. Those are consequences of adulthood on daily life, but what about the consequences of adulthood on personhood? For instance, this week I wore shorts and t-shirts, put my hair up in a top/side ponytail, and painted my fingernails the color of sparkly spinach. Did I just break all the rules? Was I completely out of line? Was I a discredit to my new demographic?!
I feel at quite a disadvantage here. For most of the young men and women I graduated with, this is not a problem, but I have a dysfunctional normometer! Such a thing probably should probably be reserved for hushed tones over a cup of coffee. "Did you hear about Miss Sunshine? She has a... well... a... you know... a dysfunctional normometer." I'll explain, just in case you've never heard of this abnormality. Example A. When you get dressed in the morning, there's an internal impulse guide called the normometer that governs what you consider appropriate to wear. You put on a pair of skinnys, a white v-neck and a cardigan. When I get dressed in the morning, sometimes things go as they do for you, but sometimes, I just want to dress like a PIRATE, or see how many different bright colors I can wear in one outfit! Example B. When you are walking down a tree lined avenue in the fall, you smile and murmur comments about "the lovely weather this time of year" in a lofty, half-interested way. When I walk down a tree lined avenue in the fall, I have the distinct feeling it would be appropriate to lope and skip through the cascade of falling leaves, leap onto railings and pretend they're imaginary tight-ropes, click my heels, twirl, and maybe even sing a little.
So you can see why I might be a little nervous about entering a demographic where the level of tomfoolery you can get away with is severely decreased from the level acceptable in college. Add to this the new position of being a youth intern, and you've got one puzzled princess. In my experience, youth leaders are "super fun", but they also have to be incredibly responsible and organized because they're not only dealing with the chaos of teenagers, but they have to answer to those teenagers' concerned parents and the church leadership. So, for instance, I bought yellow nailpolish at Walmart yesterday because I thought it had "super fun" written all over it. I still do think that, I just don't know if a woman of my advanced 22 years should be thinking more mauve-y thoughts. I know what "responsible" decision making looks like, but again, what does this change about what sort of person I am? Do I need to read a book about this, attend a support group, see a counselor? Bother dysfunctional normometers...
Is there a way to be an adult without committing adult-ery against all that Peter Pan holds sacred? Perhaps I'll apply for a double agent position, or some kind of liaison job between worlds. Being a firstborn, I disdain shirking that adult responsibility entirely, but just maybe I could shoulder paying taxes while defending tree forts, mud pies and playing house. Children are masters at playing house and wishing on stars, but are disarmed when it comes to defending these hallowed institutions. Adults, on the other hand, become rather inept at engaging in doll tea parties and pirate raids, but are quite well equipped to defend their existence. It is my hope that in my future classroom, home, backyard that forts are made, not bought, imaginary enemies are conquered, and Neverland becomes At-Least-for-a-Little-While-Land.
Staking a claim on behalf of children,
Little Miss Sunshine
I graduated in May. During my final semester of college, they talked about polishing up resumes, what to wear to interviews, and even gave us a nice little booklet about finding places to live and life insurance. It was an understood premise of this booklet that you were now an adult. Did I miss something? Where was the session we were supposed to have about actually BEING adults? I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS! Oh sure, I know all about being responsible and prompt and paying your taxes and all manner of adult-ery. Those are consequences of adulthood on daily life, but what about the consequences of adulthood on personhood? For instance, this week I wore shorts and t-shirts, put my hair up in a top/side ponytail, and painted my fingernails the color of sparkly spinach. Did I just break all the rules? Was I completely out of line? Was I a discredit to my new demographic?!
I feel at quite a disadvantage here. For most of the young men and women I graduated with, this is not a problem, but I have a dysfunctional normometer! Such a thing probably should probably be reserved for hushed tones over a cup of coffee. "Did you hear about Miss Sunshine? She has a... well... a... you know... a dysfunctional normometer." I'll explain, just in case you've never heard of this abnormality. Example A. When you get dressed in the morning, there's an internal impulse guide called the normometer that governs what you consider appropriate to wear. You put on a pair of skinnys, a white v-neck and a cardigan. When I get dressed in the morning, sometimes things go as they do for you, but sometimes, I just want to dress like a PIRATE, or see how many different bright colors I can wear in one outfit! Example B. When you are walking down a tree lined avenue in the fall, you smile and murmur comments about "the lovely weather this time of year" in a lofty, half-interested way. When I walk down a tree lined avenue in the fall, I have the distinct feeling it would be appropriate to lope and skip through the cascade of falling leaves, leap onto railings and pretend they're imaginary tight-ropes, click my heels, twirl, and maybe even sing a little.
So you can see why I might be a little nervous about entering a demographic where the level of tomfoolery you can get away with is severely decreased from the level acceptable in college. Add to this the new position of being a youth intern, and you've got one puzzled princess. In my experience, youth leaders are "super fun", but they also have to be incredibly responsible and organized because they're not only dealing with the chaos of teenagers, but they have to answer to those teenagers' concerned parents and the church leadership. So, for instance, I bought yellow nailpolish at Walmart yesterday because I thought it had "super fun" written all over it. I still do think that, I just don't know if a woman of my advanced 22 years should be thinking more mauve-y thoughts. I know what "responsible" decision making looks like, but again, what does this change about what sort of person I am? Do I need to read a book about this, attend a support group, see a counselor? Bother dysfunctional normometers...
Is there a way to be an adult without committing adult-ery against all that Peter Pan holds sacred? Perhaps I'll apply for a double agent position, or some kind of liaison job between worlds. Being a firstborn, I disdain shirking that adult responsibility entirely, but just maybe I could shoulder paying taxes while defending tree forts, mud pies and playing house. Children are masters at playing house and wishing on stars, but are disarmed when it comes to defending these hallowed institutions. Adults, on the other hand, become rather inept at engaging in doll tea parties and pirate raids, but are quite well equipped to defend their existence. It is my hope that in my future classroom, home, backyard that forts are made, not bought, imaginary enemies are conquered, and Neverland becomes At-Least-for-a-Little-While-Land.
Staking a claim on behalf of children,
Little Miss Sunshine
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