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Ard Scoil na nDéise "Reaching our Potential with Respect, Care and Friendship" |
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Never Grow Up By Maeve Simons
I once read that the true test of adulthood is whether or not you are willing to clean gunk out of the kitchen drain, barehanded. No mention was made of shower drains. I mastered the kitchen sink a few years ago, but still can’t face the shower without a shield of rubber gloves and tissues. That, to me, is the true test of a grown up. Every time I’ve graduated from one school to another or from one phase of life to another, I’ve always thought “wow. This is what it’s like to be an adult.” I may have been 12 going on 13, but the first day I put on that familiar Ard Scoil uniform, I felt as though I couldn’t possibly become any more mature or worldly. I knew it all: from the shiny toes of my polished shoes, to the gleaming of the braces on my teeth, this was as grown up as I could ever expect to feel. It wasn’t until my Junior Cert. year that I was willing to admit to myself that I was still short, still clueless and still had A LOT to learn. Dressing up in the blue garb of my peers, sheltering in the flock of our age-group; none of it could distract from the fact that I was 15 and didn’t know squat about the Real World. When I graduated from the Ard Scoil, I left behind the comfortable nest of memories in which I had ensconced myself. The bright new world of University College Cork lay at my doorstep, and that doorstep, for the first time in my life, was MY doorstep, not my parents’. At last, there was no one to constantly check up on me. I could stay out all night, skip class, eat Coco Pops for dinner and swap tea for wine. I could also miss exams, become malnourished from living on nothing but cereal, and give myself a hangover before I had even left the house. Honestly, it’s a wonder how anyone survives those first few weeks of independence. Three years in UCC studying for a BA was life changing. I learned about things I didn’t even know existed. I read books and plays in dead languages, half-forgotten by society but marvellous in their power. I could participate in a debate with a professor twice my age without shaking in terror. I met the greatest people I have ever known, and the worst. I travelled and sang and wrote and laughed. And by the end of it all, I was still stupid enough to think I was finally grown-up. I worked in Amsterdam for a few months after I graduated. Somehow, my immaturity and naivety was obscured by the summer sunshine and the bizarreness of my new surroundings. I lead walking tours around the centre of the city, dazzling tourists with learned-by-heart jokes and my bike-dodging abilities. It was the most perfect summer of my life. Then, too soon, I had to return to UCC to study for an MA in English. I resented every second of it. Yes, of course I loved my classes and my friends, but in reality, I wanted to be back in the July heat of Amsterdam; having picnics in Vondelpark and cycling through the warm midnight rain. No matter how interesting the book or how entertaining the night out, nothing could make up for how much I missed that. Writing essays and giving presentations were no longer the mild annoyances they had been during my BA; now they were insults, reminders that I was stuck in a place I had already moved on from, both mentally and physically. Now I have completed the MA and am back in Amsterdam, just as I had wished for every day that I was “stuck” in Cork. And I can finally say I am a true adult. Not just because I completely run my own life, have a good job and a nice apartment. It’s also because I have finally realised what being a grown up really means. It means admitting to yourself that things aren’t going to work out exactly like you dreamed. It means doing something you don’t want to do – and doing it EVERY. DAY. It means killing the spiders in your room by yourself and getting up at 6am for the commute to work. It means missing friends and family you’ve left behind in what now feels like a previous life. It means that throwing a party requires more effort than just opening a bag of nachos. It means that all the little things you thought mattered don’t mean anything. Being an adult is admitting to yourself that although you might have wanted to be a Disney Princess when you were small, right now all you want to do is be able to pay your rent and meet a friend after work for a chat. It might sound a bit dour and terrible. After all, the real world can be harsh and unforgiving. But mostly, it’s just wonderful. Because being an adult also means realising that you never have to stop growing and maturing. I am no longer intimidated by the 6th years, nor do I want to eat cereal for three meals a day. But there is also the part of me that gags when I think about cleaning the shower drain barehanded. And I smile. Because I know that I still have a lot more growing up to do. |
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