When I was younger, my brother and I dug a hole in our backyard. In it, we placed a box filled with our "valuables" and a letter to the archaeologist who would supposedly find it thousands of years later. Around the same age, during recess, my elementary school friends and I would go behind the building, hidden from the teachers, and carve out bows and arrows from slate, string, and flimsy sticks. We stored these barely functioning weapons in a bush nearby just in case of a "zombie apocalypse" or if aliens landed on our playground carrying plasma rifles and sonic cannons. It was childhood in its purest form.
I wasn't the greatest student in elementary or middle school. I did average on the state tests and often missed homework assignments. I failed my first-ever exam in 6th grade. It wasn't until 8th grade and high school that I truly began embracing my studies. I did my best to get my work done beforehand so I didn't need to pull all-nighters, and I made sure to study sufficiently for each and every test.
Sometimes, however, my dad would say that I was working too hard – that I would burn myself out. His words echoed so frequently that I began anticipating my burnout, yet it never materialized. I responded to him triumphantly, declaring that I was a "machine" and thus "automatic" whilst flexing my biceps.
But I'm not a machine, I'm a kid – yet I still think that's the reason I'm "automatic".
To be a kid is to be spontaneous – to be shameless. It's to suddenly ask the most random, nonsensical questions. It's to sing unabashedly in the shower. It's to blow bubbles through a straw into your milk. It's to do things just to do them. To me, these activities are fuel.
They give me the energy and joy that keeps me going, sustaining me even when school and life threaten to slow everything down. Kids have this incredible ability to find wonder in the mundane – it's something I consistently notice. I remind myself every day to hold onto that childlike spirit. It's what keeps my passions alive, my curiosity unbounded, and my heart light.
I do believe growing up is important, but it doesn't have to mean completely detaching yourself from what you once were – from the jokes you once laughed at, the sports you loved playing, or the weird late-night activities you did with your friends.
I'm the one growing up now, but I never want to lose the essence of what it means to be a kid. After all, it's the child in me that dreams big; it's the child in me that keeps me hopeful and inspired; it's the child in me that digs holes, throws in pieces of their identity, and watches to see what becomes of it.
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