“When I Grow Up”

When I was just nine years old, I realized that it was time for me to start planning for my future by deciding on a career path. My 4th grade teacher, the wonderful Mrs. Joyce Rudd, told me that she expected to turn on her television one day and see me reporting the news. At that point, I decided that I would be the next Connie Chung. I’m still not really clear as to why I chose Connie Chung… at any rate, I changed my career path countless times after that, and may change it a few more times in the future.
I was also in the 4th grade when I first learned about being really mean to people. As a child, you are told by your parents that making fun of other children is wrong. If you are one of the unfortunate children who gets picked on (and let’s face it, we are all in that position at one time or another), you know that one of the reasons that it is wrong to pick on others is that it hurts them. But when you are a child, you sometimes look at being mean as a self defense mechanism. If people are being hurting you, shouldn’t you be able to hurt them in return? And worse, some children view bullying as a self preservation method.
I was picked on in elementary school… and junior high school… and high school. But most of the bullying  that I endured during elementary school was the typical stuff. I had Coke-bottle glasses, frizzy hair and rabbit teeth, which for a nine year old sharing a classroom with 19 other nine year olds, can be pretty traumatizing. So imagine my delight when we were told that a new student would be joining our class! I always looked at new students as potential new friends.
At first I really thought about befriending Samantha. She was very nice, and had moved to our town from a much smaller town in Arkansas. But soon I noticed the other kids in my class making fun of her and snickering about her “inferior” clothing. She wore jeans that were a brand we had never heard of, and all of her socks were tie-dyed.  Basically, we just made fun of her because she was different.  So at that point, I ventured down a dark road. I decided that if the other students were going to be mean to Samantha, I would lead the bullying campaign. My reasoning was this: If I could keep their attention on her, they would leave me alone. Soon I had the class rallying around me, as I made each school day for her a total nightmare. I left mean notes in her locker, and prank called her at home. I would even gather with little groups of catty girls (as many girls are at nine) to pretend to be her friends, only to share her secrets (that she had confided to her new “friends”) to everyone in the classroom. I am ashamed to say that I was finally happy to go to school.
Over the years, I have often wondered about Samantha. I have even looked for her on Facebook so that I could finally apologize for my cruelty. As an adult, I realize that my actions were a direct result of my own insecurities, and I am truly sorry for making any human being feel so low. Of course, as the world often works, it all came back on me later in high school when I was stalked and harassed by some of the very people who had once helped me harass Samantha. Go figure. But such is life, and we were all children then.  That didn’t excuse what we did, but most of us became adults later on and said our apologies.
Growing older and being an adult are two different things. Being an adult doesn’t have to mean losing your child-like spirit. It doesn’t mean that you can never fly a kite, ride a roller coaster or buy yourself a Lego set again. Being a happy adult means that you can still make time to play and to enjoy your family. Of course, we all grow older, and there is nothing that any of us can do (despite sometimes desperate measures) to prevent that. Being an adult, one could argue, is optional. As a child, I couldn’t wait to “grow up” and be wise. I wanted to be able to answer the questions that I’d often ask my elders. I wanted to be able to make my own decisions about important things, and in my young mind, the three most important things to me were where to live, where to travel and what time to go to bed. I just knew that one day; adulthood would afford me the right to make those decisions for myself. And of course, it did, but that is a story for another day.
What I didn’t know about being an adult is the responsibility that comes with the role. And when I say “responsibility”, I am not talking about working, paying bills, raising children or any of the other responsibilities that most people associate with being “grown”. When I “responsibility”, I am talking about the responsibility that you have to be a good human being. I believe that God puts each and every one of us on this planet for a reason. I believe that He loves all of us, and wants us to love one another. And because of those beliefs, I feel strongly that it is our responsibility not only as adults, but as human beings, to be kind and respectful to others. We are all human, and so we all fail, probably more than any of us would admit.
I feel blessed to have learned of this great responsibility, and saddened for those who have not, and never will. They are people who we all know. They are colleagues, family members and some may even be your friends. Sometimes they are open about their feelings, and sometimes they are much more subtle. Eventually though, often with only one comment, their true colors are revealed to be quite ugly. I do understand their pain, as I felt it once long ago when I was a little goofy looking loud mouth 4th grader. I have the faint memory of how great it felt to get a laugh at the expense of someone else’s pain. I also recall, quite clearly, how lonely and sad it felt to look at the agonizing expression on the face of the one I’d assaulted.
I’m so thankful that I know better than to take pleasure from someone else’s misfortune. It is a sick and cruel thing to do. I’m also happy to know that I’m not running around as a “grown up” doing the same heartless things I did as a very immature nine year-old child. I’m still fairly young, and look forward to seeing where life will take me. Wherever life does take me, I hope to surround myself with other “responsible” people who genuinely care about their fellow man.
If you are one of those people who has grown older, but still hasn’t taken on the responsibility of trying to be a good human being, maybe you should take a good long look in the mirror. Maybe you should ask yourself why you take such pleasure in inflicting pain on other people. Could it be that you are hurting as well? Could it be that you are simply lost and being fueled by your own insecurities? Perhaps, but you should know that one day, those whom you hurt will forget the pain that you caused. But your pain, your pain will go on until you address the reasons for it. If you are one of those people, I encourage you to get help. Life is much too short to be so miserable.
As for me, I guess I made adulthood after all. I live in Florida, my favorite state in the nation. I travel to some pretty great, and some pretty not so great places, but I do get to make the decision about where I go. And well, I’m still battling with the bedtime issue, but ultimately, I make myself go to bed early when I absolutely have to. And most importantly, to me anyway, I would rather make someone smile than make someone cry.