When did I grow up?

That's all I could think on my way to ABAC last Wednesday morning. I was an emotional wreck. As my Nana conveniently reminded me, I cried when I started kindergarten, cried when I started first grade, cried when I started second grade- by now, it's just tradition. Beginning college, I was worried, nervous, excited, stressed, sad, anxious, terrified, amazed, proud, and everything in between. Name an emotion, and I probably felt it. That's just how I've always been- a walking basket case. Starting at ABAC was no different. While high school was familiar, safe, and predictable, now, I feel like I've been spit out in the middle of a roller coaster ride, and I'm not really sure if I'm buckled in right.

It is absolutely, completely, 100% insane.

It is also absolutely, completely, 100% okay.

At a time when I'm learning so many new things about myself, I've been given an equal amount reasons to pay extra attention to what I already know to be true.

When I was four years old, I once duct taped up my entire legs because I wanted to look like a mummy. I proclaimed my brilliant idea to my mother, who tried- futilely- to persuade me against it. I actually remember wondering why no one had thought of using the sticky, silver strips as part of a costume before: It stuck better than toilet paper, and it was prettier too, with its shiny, smooth texture. I was unconvinced that it would hurt when I pulled it off, no matter how many times my mother said it would. I would not be deterred; I would not be dissuaded. I had an idea and I was sticking- quite literally- to it.

I’m like that. If you have a determination to do something, don’t give it up. It took you some time, some activity, some kind of investment, to decide where you were going, and opting out because someone told you that you were going to regret it is frankly ridiculous. There are some things you have to learn for yourself. Sometimes, that may be listening; other times, it’s coming up with your own solution. Have faith in yourself. You know what you’re doing, and no one knows yourself better than you. I’ve spent 18 years in this body, and she’s one pretty weird kid. But she’s also crazy compassionate, involved, and willing to help if she can. Only I can say of what I’m capable. If that means pushing myself past a limit to figure it out, then I’ll know better for the next time because I’ll only have reached a new height.

I've come to figure out that kids have a voice; they should be listened to. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from working with them at least once a week it’s this: kids seek respect. Talk to them like they’re your equal, but exercise the restraint it takes to discipline them when necessary. Similarly, use that balance in your work life. Give a little to get a little. You can’t constantly criticize someone and expect them to like you. Accept your own mistakes; acknowledge them, even -and especially- when they’re embarrassing or painful. It hurts being wrong, but it hurts worse to turn down an ample opportunity to fix it.

Be creative. If you want to be a construction worker turned ballerina nudist fairy, do it (yes, just another one of my many good ideas). If hasn’t been done before, all the better. Be a non-conformist. All of the same is boring, and the world could use a little spice now and then. Crackle with the flames of your burning ambition. Don’t give a second thought to the surrounding people buried in snow. It’s so much more fun dancing in the rain than lagging across dry pavement.

My favorite poet, Shel Silverstein, said it best in his piece "Where the Sidewalk Ends:"

“There is a place where the sidewalk ends

And before the street begins,

And there the grass grows soft and white,

And there the sun burns crimson bright,

And there the moon-bird rests from his flight

To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black

And the dark street winds and bends.

Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow

We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,

And watch where the chalk-white arrows go

To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,

And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,

For the children, they mark, and the children, they know

The place where the sidewalk ends.”

We aren't going to be stuck in one place for long. No matter if we're duct taped in or not, me included. We as people are headed for much bigger things, and college just happens to be the first one on my list.