At my middle school, seventh and eighth graders were required to take a one semester of home economics and health. Our teachers, who were tiny, white-haired Maine ladies, taught us everything from how to sew a pillowcase to how to make a baby. Today, I can only remember one of those lessons.

In all seriousness, what I’m trying to get at is that even in classes that are designed to, on some level, prepare students for the real world, they don’t. Instead of teaching us how to acquire credit and balance a checkbook, we learn how the alphabet has any place in a math lesson. Rather than teaching us how to correspond via email appropriately, we read antiquated texts that use phrases like “thou art.” I’m not trying to say those lessons aren’t important; they are. We have to learn about trigonometry and Shakespearean literature because they play an underlying integral role in functioning in society, whether it’s building skyscrapers or sitting in a pitch meeting at work. Our generation, however, seems to have been so focused on being so book smart and getting into a reputable college and making a ton of money that we’ve forgotten how important it is to be, what I’d like to call, actually smart.

Sure, a lot of us were raised by incredible parents or mentors or guardians who made sure that as we forayed into the real world, we knew at least how to iron a shirt and scramble eggs. But what about remembering to turn the iron off after and properly cleaning that pan? Because I can tell you, with certainty, that I know some people who were taught the swing but not the follow through.

My mother raised my siblings and me exceptionally well. We all know how to fold a fitted sheet and use a vacuum and use a real map (and not rely on Siri and her often misleading directions). But despite her best efforts, there is still so much about which I am completely and utterly clueless. For one, I am terrible with money. For another, I struggle to pump gas. I can’t poach an egg. The list goes on and on and on of areas in which I am completely inadequate to qualify as a functioning member of society, but yet, here I am.

Anytime I complete a mundane task that proves to the universe my responsibility as a human, I pump my fist in the air and grin with delight. I did something constructive for myself and contributed in some way to making my little world a better place. In today’s society, we call that #adulting. #Adulting is a phenomenon sweeping the social media sphere where users share with their dear followers their recent feats in the real world. A quick perusal of my feeds showed that #adulting led to posts about buying a new mattress, wearing all white and not spilling food on oneself, and so many other mundane tasks that seemingly do not merit celebration, but in today’s world are worthy of laud.

I am shamelessly guilty about celebrating when I do something other than watch crime documentaries or brush my hair until my arms fall asleep. Just last week, I ran errands to prepare for an upcoming trip across the pond and I nearly wept when all was said and done. There are so many little things I do wherein I reward myself with a frothy, sugary Starbucks or an entire bottle of wine because, by George, I was responsible. I #adulted. Here are some examples of #adulting:

Grocery shopping (and not only buying cereal and Top Ramen)

Taking proper care of your car

Filling up your gas tank before the gas light comes on

Doing your laundry before you run out of underwear

Making (and actually going to) your own appointments

Memorizing your Social Security number

Following a recipe

Reading the news

Filling a prescription before it runs out

Calling your mother (when it’s not an emergency)

Sending a thank you note

Washing your sheets

Going to bed before midnight

Being anywhere on time (which, according to my mom, means being early)

Being confident in yourself and your abilities, no matter how few you've got