Lately, Zoey has been obsessed with growing up. She's constantly standing against walls in our home, asking me to measure her. Hell, half the time she dreams about growing. I'll ask, "Did you have sweet dreams last night?" She'll reply, "Yes! I dreamt I grew bigger and bigger and BIGGER!"
I have trouble dealing with the fact that she's already three and a half and will be starting kindergarten in eighteen short months. Meanwhile, she's ready to get her own apartment.
And don't even get me started on her obsession with marriage.
But I guess I can't blame her. Modern society has put the onus on kids. They're supposed to do everything faster, better, and far earlier than we ever did.
In my neck of the woods, kids are expected to be able to read and write before they enter kindergarten. When I was in kindergarten, we learned to tie our shoes.
This probably explains why my writing is so lame. But I can tie a mean knot!
I entered college having no clue what my major would be. Today's kids don't have that luxury. They have to declare their majors in kindergarten. We have charter schools where children are immersed in a particular area of study, be it Spanish, mathematics, computers, or communications. At six years old. What six-year-old knows what he/she wants to be later in life? When I was six, I wanted to be a rock star.
Actually, I still want to be a rock star.
Seriously, I think kids take their pre-pre-SATs in third grade. A soccer mom told me the other day that she's afraid her child's C- on a fourth grade social studies test will keep him out of Princeton.
Ok, that's a slight exaggeration. But probably not too far off the mark.
It's just crazy. I imagine today's kids are under an enormous amount of pressure; pressure I never felt until college. And now my daughter is starting to succumb to it.
Sometimes, Zoey will tell me she wants to be a doctor when she grows up. Other times, she wants to be a teacher.
There are also times when she acts sad. I'll ask her why she's sad and she'll reply, "Because I don't know what I want to be when I grow up!"
You'd better hurry up, kid. You've got eighteen months to decide.
To be continued...
I Asked My Mother, "What Will I Be?"
