Growing Young

February 1, 2023 | Hannah Turner BK ‘24

image description: kids playing in water

Alejandra catches sight of me in the crowd of caretakers and runs over to ask if we could go to the playground. Yes, we can, as our afternoon schedule accommodates it. She runs to meet her friends on the columpio redondo, taking on the responsibility to push the overloaded, upcycled rubber tire. I sit on a bench and watch laughter overtake their group. Another au pair joins me to talk about how the day ahead looks: busy.

I think in blocks of time as I plan which bus we will need to take to get to basketball, swimming, or English class on time. And then I strategize how we can make a smooth transition into these activities. When the time comes for us to leave the park, Alejandra pleads with me to stay and questions why she even has to go to her afternoon class. Why do we have to talk in English, too, instead of the language she knows, Spanish? These were pressing questions for the six-year-old. I took this as a teachable moment for Alejandra. Sometimes, I explained, we have to do things we don’t like because of the person we can become later on. For instance, I was there to help Alejandra become fluent in English even if she did not always want to speak it. 

As the months went on I realized, however, Alejandra taught me more than I taught her. I made sure we spoke English everyday and went to all her afternoon classes, but it was simply in being present with her that I grew the most. I thought back to the scene at the park, and Alejandra’s desire to stay. Children do need structured routines. But often the structure we impose, or obey is saturated with expectations which—if not met—destroy us. 

I realized that we tend to value the child for what they can be rather than who they are. 

G. K. Chesterton, a late-modern philosopher, commented that “because children have abounding vitality, because they are in spirit fierce and free, therefore they want things repeated and unchanged. They always say, ‘Do it again’; and the grown-up person does it again until he is nearly dead. For grown-up people are not strong enough to exult in monotony.” [1] Children simply are. As Chesterton argues, they live a vibrantly present life. They recognize an inherent value in day-to-day things for what they are. This is something I noticed in Alejandra. With her I saw my weakness: I had adopted a cultural perspective that devalues the vibrant life that is found in the child.

As a result, we lose appreciation for the pure, present being that Chesterton sees children embodying. We prize children as the building blocks of our future, and desire to raise them into society’s next leaders. Even before they start school, we ask children what they want to be when they grow up. Teaching children to have goals (career-focused or otherwise) is still beneficial. And those of us who know the struggle of adulting know that time is a precious resource and we use money nearly every day. The difficulty is not in teaching responsibility or wisdom, but in the dangerous implications we make about a human being’s  value. When we view ourselves, those around us, or children as failures for not reaching certain goals, we deny our inherent worth.

We are left lacking an ability to wonder and living in a society that revels in production and consumption over all else. As a child, I would brim with joy navigating the labyrinth that was the elementary school scholastic book fair. Libraries were a never-ending supply of intoxicating narratives. Today, the majority of books I read are for classes, and I only dream about the day when the 53 “Want to Read'' books on my GoodReads move to the “Read” bookshelf. My life fundamentally shifted when  reading became a measure of my intelligence. On a societal level, the university reinforces this mindset: each student needs to gather classes and experiences to put on their CV and boast on LinkedIn. Personal interest and even sleep are afterthoughts to what will make us look the best. The United States especially glorifies the striving for material wealth rather than the building of a family. Social media only exacerbates these realities as we compare our lives through platforms which constantly promote the goods we can get to be the “better” version of ourselves. This hustle-culture, career-centric, money-hungry life has not propelled us into a better reality, but rather a more anxious reality. 

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that my generation, Gen Z, consistently sees this prioritizing of what can be in their lives and is more likely than any past generation to report mental health concerns. According to the American Psychological Association's Stress in America Survey, Gen Z is significantly less “likely to report very good or excellent mental health” when compared with other generations. [2] The effect of the internet and pandemic may have contributed to this in a unique way. We are the first generation to have grown up with social media, and most of us are constantly online. This has big implications for our mental health in terms of both comparison and constant communication. [3] Further, Gen Z  has to face the increased job insecurity and other socioeconomic losses that the COVID pandemic caused. [4] [5]  While these effects are clearly evident, I wonder if some of this anxiety can be attributed to our predisposition to regard things for what they could be rather than for what they are. Our society makes us feel as though we need to be someone uber successful in order to have meaning. If we don’t secure that post-grad consulting job, we feel less than those around us. We internalize these expectations too: if we don’t appear to have our lives as together, or like we’re having as much fun as that person on social media then we are not living life well. Although, if everything is a means to an end–whether resume points or Instagram content–nothing means anything. 

With this perspective, this feeling of meaninglessness is often clear: life loses its vibrancy, and we feel anxious and empty. We have trouble finding meaning in unglamorous, non-productive day-to-day activities, like walking around the city or making a meal. However, when I look at Alejandra I see a different way to view life. I see life full of meaning because she valued life simply because it was life. She begged me to read books with her. She ran around the city for hours, finding novelty in every shop or person we passed by. She delighted in making her favorite meal (spaghetti) and teaching me step-by-step the special way she did it (with heaps of tomato sauce). 

I don’t want to live in perpetual fear of not measuring up–to my own egregious expectations or anyone else’s. I don’t want to live a life that feels meaningless because I am trying to use everything I have to get something better. I want to be more like Alejandra. I want to have this child-like perspective that values what I have, and life itself, for what it is.

This child-like living would be beneficial for us all because I think we all seek to find purpose in our lives. As a child the purpose was just to live. In practice, however, we don’t value life this way. As we've grown older we’ve incorporated an efficiency-meter into the purpose of our lives. My question is, why? Why have we lost the strength to exult in monotony? Why are we not drenched in wonder by the consistency of the sun’s rising and setting, nature’s springtime growth, or our own heartbeat? 

I’m not sure how exactly this adapting of a child-like perspective, this growing young would look. 

For one, this perspective would not worry about tomorrow, or excessively grumble about the past. Nor would this perspective throw caution to the wind. We would instead construct a perspective that recognizes pain, loss, and despair as real without forsaking all the love and hope that is equally real. We would value ourselves for being, not just for what we can be. We would be present. In my life, this would look like eating more meals with friends rather than catching up on my work. The weekends would be spent gradually completing that “Want to Read” list. My walks to campus from my apartment would be spent admiring the ember leaves and soaking in every last bit of sunlight instead of making sure I reply to all my texts. Somehow, I think I would feel more alive.

[1] Chesterton, G.K. “Orthodoxy.” 1908.

[2] Bethune, Sophie. “Gen Z More Likely to Report Mental Health Concerns.” Accessed December 21, 2022. https://www.apa.org/monitor/2019/01/gen-z. https://www.apa.org/monitor/2019/01/gen-z 

[3] Naslund, John A., Ameya Bondre, John Torous, and Kelly A. Aschbrenner. “Social Media and Mental Health: Benefits, Risks, and Opportunities for Research and Practice.” Journal of Technology in Behavioral Science 5, no. 3 (September 1, 2020): 245–57. https://doi.org/10.1007/s41347-020-00134-x.

[4] Ganson, Kyle T., Alexander C. Tsai, Sheri D. Weiser, Samuel E. Benabou, and Jason M. Nagata. “Job Insecurity and Symptoms of Anxiety and Depression Among U.S. Young Adults During COVID-19.” The Journal of Adolescent Health: Official Publication of the Society for Adolescent Medicine 68, no. 1 (January 2021): 53–56. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.jadohealth.2020.10.008.

[5] Panchal, Nirmita, Rabah Kamal, Rachel Garfield Published: Feb 10, and 2021. “The Implications of COVID-19 for Mental Health and Substance Use.” KFF (blog), February 10, 2021. https://www.kff.org/coronavirus-covid-19/issue-brief/the-implications-of-covid-19-for-mental-health-and-substance-use/.