One Last Round
Mike Andrews
Issue date: 4/8/09 Section: Viewpoint
I do not want to grow up. As many positions I have applied for, for as many times that I have updated my cover letter or revised my resume, I have no real desire for an adult life style. As so many of us have already parlayed our ways into the midst of paraprofessional, I think many seniors have enough experience under their belts to openly say, "I do not want to be an adult."
Now, I hope none of our parents read this. I expect that mine would be rather disappointed in my above statements. I can more than safely assume that they would curse not only me, but also their current bank accounts for the waste of… what's that? Oh, right, the tens of thousands of dollars spent for me to realize growing up is not on my immediate to-do list come May 16.
While I am at the high school student-teaching, I know the students see me as an adult. I wear a tie. They have to call me "Mr. Andrews." By all means, most of the kids think I am getting paid for my services there. To them, I am a fully-realized adult in the flesh. The students think about all of the student teachers. I assume that most other interns are given the same title. As interviews for summer positions open up, as human resource officers push salary negotiations across the table, we are all looked at in a professional light.
I can safely say, though, the minute the students aren't looking, moments after supervisors have walked away from our cubicles, and the second we get into our cars after an interview, we do one thing - we revert back. The blazers come off, the high heels are traded in for flip-flops, and the thirty resumes left over from the career fair are quickly traded in for thirty beers from the fridge. Not one of us is ready to grow up, and if you are, you must have wasted part of your time here at Assumption because I am not willing to give up that beautiful, fun-loving, free-living world I have built here among my friends. Yes, that is a rather presumptuous statement to make. Luckily, the only people who actually read this column would agree. The people who disagree are most definitely reading The New Yorker, and not the smut column in the school newspaper.
Now, I hope none of our parents read this. I expect that mine would be rather disappointed in my above statements. I can more than safely assume that they would curse not only me, but also their current bank accounts for the waste of… what's that? Oh, right, the tens of thousands of dollars spent for me to realize growing up is not on my immediate to-do list come May 16.
While I am at the high school student-teaching, I know the students see me as an adult. I wear a tie. They have to call me "Mr. Andrews." By all means, most of the kids think I am getting paid for my services there. To them, I am a fully-realized adult in the flesh. The students think about all of the student teachers. I assume that most other interns are given the same title. As interviews for summer positions open up, as human resource officers push salary negotiations across the table, we are all looked at in a professional light.
I can safely say, though, the minute the students aren't looking, moments after supervisors have walked away from our cubicles, and the second we get into our cars after an interview, we do one thing - we revert back. The blazers come off, the high heels are traded in for flip-flops, and the thirty resumes left over from the career fair are quickly traded in for thirty beers from the fridge. Not one of us is ready to grow up, and if you are, you must have wasted part of your time here at Assumption because I am not willing to give up that beautiful, fun-loving, free-living world I have built here among my friends. Yes, that is a rather presumptuous statement to make. Luckily, the only people who actually read this column would agree. The people who disagree are most definitely reading The New Yorker, and not the smut column in the school newspaper.
Be the first to comment on this story