Forever Young

I have been 27 years old for 10 years now, and as the years go by, I realize more and more that my mind still thinks as it did when I was 17.  Sure, I am older and wiser about many things, but at my core, I am still the same “only-child, it’s all about me, I am better than you” person that I have always remembered being.  What helps feed this, I think, is that I have an amazing memory.  I can remember events from elementary school as if they only happened a couple of years ago.  I remember every TV theme song and top 40 hit from my childhood.  Today, when I am swimming laps in the pool, I vividly remember high school swim meets and the antics of my teammates, and those memories seem to only be 4 or 5 years old.  Then I do the math and realize that I haven’t swum competitively for 20 years.  TWENTY YEARS!  Where does the time go? And more importantly, why do I feel like it hasn’t gone anywhere?

Now that I work with high school students, it is even more clear to me that I  still think with the same brain that I thought with as a teenager.  Not that I am attracted to young boys or that I want to dress in belly revealing tees and wear glitter on my eyes, but I do easily slip into talking to these kids as peers rather than as a MUCH older adult.  I know that they don’t consider me a peer, so why do I feel like this?

Some scientists believe that our personalities are fully developed by age 7.  Freud theroized that his happened closer to 12.  Still, most agree that one’s basic personality is pretty much set in stone before entering high school.  It is also interesting to note that people’s taste in music basically stops between the ages of 17 and 20. So whatever you liked as a teenager, you generally will just keep listening to that music for the rest of your life.  No wonder I still feel like a teenager, “Shoop”ing in the car with the radio cranked and teaching my kids the words, like it is totally an appropriate song for children!

S and the P wanna kick with me, cool (uh-huh)
But I’m wicked, G, (yeah) hit skins but never quickly (that’s right)
I hit the skins for the hell of it, just for the yell I get
Mmm mmm mmm, for the smell of it (smell it)
They want my bod, here’s the hot rod (hot rod)
Twelve inches to a yard (damn) and have ya soundin’ like a retard (yeah)
Big ‘Twan Love-Her, six-two, wanna hit you
So what you wanna do?
What you wanna do?
Mmmm, I wanna shoop

Yeah, I want my 9 year old to sing that to the girls at school.

So as I “hang out” with my high schoolers after rehearsal, I have to constantly remind myself that I am 20 years older than them and that I am supposed to be a mentor and a role model. Yuck.  Like, I totally want to talk about that girl’s dress and how she should definitely not wear it with those shoes.  I also can’t discuss politics, religion, homosexuality, sex in general, or basically any controversial subject, even if they start it. Dude, what a bummer.

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