Changes upon Changes

After changes upon changes we are more or less the same
- Simon and Garfunkel, "The Boxer"

It seems the children in my life grew up without warning. Two graduate from high school today. Another became a teenager on Monday. A handful prepare to join the ranks of licensed drivers. If I didn't feel like a card-carrying adult before, I do now.

Last night my niece, who just completed 8th grade, received an academic award. I proudly looked on as the young woman who tossed petals down the aisle at my wedding accepted her honors.

A beloved, retiring math teacher addressed the crowd with an engaging speech that called on math and music to illustrate his theme: Life is about balance. When introducing himself, he explained that students appreciated his "junior high sense of humor" while adults often stare blankly in response. He quickly established his credibility as that rare and special authority figure who speaks the same language as strange early-teen beings and offers them understanding, inspiration and engagement.

Listening to him amid a gymnasium full of faculty, parents and students, I recalled a time I rarely visit. My skinny, curly-haired, coke-bottle-glasses-wearing, 13-year-old self emerged from memory's depths. She reminded me about the spring play, swimming class, dances, yearbook, English class, crushes, cliches and notes passed in the hallway. As the speaker played the above line from Simon and Garfunkel's "The Boxer," I examined her, searching for my own intrinsic qualities. Who am I today that I was 19 years ago? Which parts of me weathered adolescence's storm, which ones helped me weather it and which ones did the storm reveal?

As the chosen student speakers shared their ambitions and philosophies, my heart swelled. For the first time I understood why one might choose to work with that age group. These teachers do more than educate. They guide those precious souls in the transition from childhood into adulthood by offering them compassion, arming them with skills and helping them navigate puberty's choppy waters. The students' innocence and optimism elicited hope and sadness.

In those years between 13 and 30 (and forever after) we endure and accomplish much. We mess up. We succeed. We meet people and lose them. We see dreams crumble and discover new ones beyond our wildest imagination. We learn lessons and fail to learn them. We disappoint and amaze ourselves. Hopefully we do so without sacrificing our essence.

In some ways I think having no children of my own, has kept me somewhat stunted. I observe how my friends with newborns selflessly take on entirely new lives and wonder how they can lose themselves that way. But lately I am starting to understand - as best I can without becoming a mother, anyway. There comes a time to move on from that place where life's all about you and your discovery. It's time to make space for others to roam there. It's time to use those intrinsic qualities to nurture their journeys. It's time to really grow up.