teens

teens

Last night was the Fourth of July, and I joined my sister and some friends for burgers and fireworks in a place that for legal reasons I will call “Snappy Valley.”

To “aid digestion” after dinner, we walked to the local park; several soccer fields transformed into a zoo of families, children, firefighters, religious groups handing out tracts, older couples in matching flag outifts, and teenagers.

Hundreds of teens, clad in star-spangled tube tops, wielding corn-on-a-stick, giddy with patriotism, or maybe just giddy at the overabundance of other teens. Who could say.

And instead of rolling my eyes at these kids, who were by far the most obnoxious subgroup at the event (maybe not as obnoxious as the man warning people to repent), my heart was warmed at their youthfulness. We passed by clumps of kids whispering, giggling and hopping around agitatedly in dirty tennis shoes, girls with matching french braids and braces, and several kids making a bold expedition into a swamp without any shoes at all. I couldn’t help but think, “aw, my future students!”

I’m not sure when I decided I wanted to work with teenagers. I certainly didn’t adore being a teenager myself; so why do I gravitate toward teenagers as a future teacher? Maybe I resonate with the teenage desire to know and to belong; I love how raw and awkward and interested they are, like short, young Christmas trees at the tree farm who have to endure being jostled, stepped over and passed by year after year until they’re big enough to go to a home and get decorated. Is that a very dark and weird analogy? Yes!

All I know is this: the middle-spot, that time between thirteen and eighteen, is fascinating and funny and wild and infectious. Almost grown up. Almost knows everything, almost old enough to go places and do things. But child enough to desperately need attention, direction, and a kind word from someone who knows a little better. And child enough to cry out for that attention in a desperate way most grownups don’t.

I don’t expect teaching high school to be a fairyland of magical discoveries and perfect relationships. I do expect to see the gritty weird parts and deal with lots of emotion, on my part and on theirs. Like so many of our books and lectures have said, it’s refreshing when a kid wears their feelings out in the open and don’t cover up who they really are. Hiding your true self is something adults get good at over time, but sometimes a meltdown is much less work than holding it together. I admire kids because the dams holding back the realness are still weak.