Enthusiasm and Age (Maggie)

Before I dive into my chosen topic for the day, I interrupt myself to bring you this breaking news! I have just the thing to get your holiday engines revved up and ready to celebrate. THE BRANDS WHO CAME FOR CHRISTMAS is exactly the kind of warm, fuzzy, family, snowy, Christmassy story I love at this time of year, and my publishers have wisely decided to reissue it just in time for the countdown to Thanksgiving. It goes on sale with this cheery new cover art, on November 11th. I'm going to re-read it myself to get into the appropriate mood for shopping and decorating and baking and tree choosing and all of that fun holiday stuff. I love this time of year!

Okay, now, onto my blog topic. And no, it's not about the historic, world changing elections we've just had, although I'm completely enchanted and excited and enthused and eager about the new administration and the new age it seems to indicate that we, as a people, have entered. People have evolved. Finally.

But no, my topic for today is enthusiasm and age. I've been noticing some really fascinating aspects of human nature this past week, and I wanted to talk about it a bit and see if anyone agrees with me.

I was asked to speak to two groups of school students in the past week. Last Friday, i spoke about writing to the senior class at Sheburne-Earlville Central School. Twelfth grade. Seventeen and eighteen-year-olds. A handful of them came to class in costume, because it was Halloween. Maybe three out of the 30 or so in the class. Most wore their ordinary street clothes. And they were very quiet and polite and extremely attentive to my presentation. There were a handful of questions at the end, posed by a handful of students, and there was a noticeable pattern. The same few students asked all the questions. The ones in costume asked the most questions. But over all, there were surprisingly few questions and very little discussion. I commented to the teacher, Mr. French, afterward, that they were extremely quiet, and he said that was a great sign. To have them quiet and attentive on a Friday, much less on Halloween, meant they were interested in what was being said. I chose to believe him, but deep down, felt they were probably bored.

Then, yesterday (this Wednesday) I spoke to the fifth graders at Otselic Valley Central, my alma-mater. And these kids could not keep quiet. But they weren't interrupting or rude. No. They were excited and fascinated and curious and creative and FULL of questions. I told them everything I could squeeze in about storytelling and they were soaking it up like sponges. Every one of them had a story to tell. Every one of them had a dozen questions. They were animated and so very very enthusiastic. Nearly every hand in the room was still raised as the clock ticked and time ran out. And I'd been answering questions for quite a while by then.

And I got to thinking, it seemed to me that the fifth graders didn't care two hoots what their peers or anyone else in that room might think of them. They told me of their aspirations to write stories. The told me about stories they'd written. They told me about stories they'd heard or witnessed--mostly ghost stories those. Every kid in that class had a real life ghost experience to share (and I swear, I did NOT bring that subject up--it's like they smelled a love of the paranormal on me or something!)

I could have easily spent a second hour and I think they'd have still been chattering. And that my firstborn granddaughter, Ella, was a member of this class, while delightful, didn't seem the reason. The kids were having FUN!

And that made me wonder what happens between fifth grade and twelfth that leaves the majority of our young people either too self-conscious to show that kind of unbridled enthusiasm, or just so generally bored that they honestly don't feel any. There were, I'll add, a couple of very enthused seniors, one girl in particular who stayed after class and walked with me to the office to sign out, still plying me with questions and thoughts, and I loved that. But it seemed sad to me that she was the exception rather than the rule. We could barely get the fifth graders to go to lunch. They didn't want to leave me.

So what happens to that free wheeling, giddy, fun, sheer life-loving state of being? When do we lose it? I'd like to talk to every class, sixth grade, seventh, right on up and see if I can put my finger on when it is that they begin to change. And whether it's boredom or an aversion to seeming foolish in front of their friends, or whether they've just had all the enthusiasm trained out of them by the grownups and rules and societal norms they're told are expected of them. Do all the years of "Sit down! Stop fidgeting! Keep quiet! Be polite! Don't interrupt! Don't be silly! Stop giggling! Don't make faces, you'll freeze that way" and all the other things we say to our kids, eventually wear them down, and push the giddy enthusiasm right out of them?

I told the teacher as I left, I think that once they lose this stage of giddy joy, and not caring what anyone else thinks, they don't get it back again until they're my age.

So that makes me think we maybe spend way too much time in life complying. Doing what's expected. Modifying our behavior to fit what is deemed appropriate and acceptable and "normal." Normal is a horrible word, isn't it? Who wants to be normal? It sort of means, "Just like everyone else." But that's totally bogus, because no two people are the same.

How can we, as parents, try to nurture that buoyant quality in our kids, rather than train it out of them? How can we, as grown ups, regain some of that childlike enthusiasm. How can we feel that good again, just to be alive? How can we get back to the point where we're bouncing in our seats because we're just too darn full of life to sit still?

I think just noticing it, and reaching for it is a start.

And car dancing. Car dancing is the first step, folks. I've been thinking alot about this, and this is one of the paths. The other day I was feeling extremely irritated and upset and weepy (hormones and a car dealership visit--enough said. I wanted to eat someone's liver by the time I left.) But I didn't want to feel that way. I put on some of my favorite "feel good" music, cranked it up loud, and bopped in my seat as I drove home, and within minutes, I was smiling again. It's a quick fix.

(My feel good music this time was Paul Simon's GRACELAND CD, which you just can't listen to and feel bad. It's impossible.)

What are your quick ways to get to feeling giddy and great? I'm starting a list!

Hugs,
Maggie