Teachable Moments

Being away at school for the most of the year, I naturally don’t spend as much time with my parents. Subsequently, I miss out on a lot of, what I like to call, “Teachable Moments by Tricia”

My mom, like many moms out there, has a lot of advice to give.  What I find to be…unique about my mom though, is her manner of giving the advice. There you’ll be mid-conversation, talking back and forth, and then- BOOM- Teachable moment. It’s subtle, but not quite subtle enough to go unnoticed. Especially if you know the signs to look for. Here’s a few key phrases that directly lead to learning something new a la Tricia Drew:

-          1)“Let me tell you somethin’”: This phrase means you need to settle in, because a speech is coming your way. “Let me tell you somethin’” is often followed by a “now it might just be me”, a “I can’t make you agree” or a “I may not be a scientist” and the teachable moment goes on from there.

-         2) The finger point: Though not a phrase, the index finger point is equally important. It is used to emphasize contrast and is a great lead in for a teachable moment. The point could be at you (“Your generation doesn’t have music like ours), a friend (“You don’t think Annie’s mother lets her drive to Atlanta, do you?), or even the sage herself (“I’m not perfect, but I keep my nails painted”).  

3) “Did you hear about (insert celebrity name here)?”: This question means my Mom has participated in one of her rare, yet affecting, dives into the world of pop culture. I’ve always admired the way Mom doesn't care too much about celebrity gossip, but when she happens upon a piece of it, it can fuel her teachable moments for months. “Did you hear about…oh what’s his name…Justin Beiber? It’s just so sad. But with all that money, what can you do? Let me tell you something, you should be glad that wasn’t you making all that money so early on in life”, etc., etc. 

Note: Interestingly enough, these teachable moments always end in a reference to Beyonce. “I don’t think any of them are normal except for that Beyonce. She seems so down to earth.”

4) "Caroline, I've got an idea": This one is just for me, but is still worth mentioning due to its frequency of use. I am what my Mom refers to as her “eclectic” child. This might be because I’m in a comedy group. Or because I major in Religion/English. Or because I wear Free People clothes. Whatever the reason, my Mom has devoted herself to the harrowing task of figuring out my future career. The ideas are always…outside the box, and they are always told to me as a teachable moment. “Caroline, I’ve got an idea. What if you wrote Hallmark cards?” “Mom, I hate Hallmark cards.” “But a lot of people love them. And I bet you that job pays well (*insert finger point here).”

5) “Google it”: This phrase actually comes at the end of a teachable moment. It serves as rebuttal if you are to counter any advice given that she considers to be factual, and not just opinion. I can’t remember the day that my Mom learned the function of Google in arguments, but now we are at a point of no return. No claim of hers can be refuted until Google says otherwise. Ironically enough, if Google does say otherwise, “Well that’s the internet, any old person could get on there and say something.”

Often my friends will come over and it won't be long until we're all sitting around the kitchen table listening to my mother warn against the dangers of alcohol, or sharing clothes with people you don't know very well ("They might return it completely ruined. And that's if they return it!). At the end of the day, my mom does have some great advice, and I'm lucky that she cares enough to share her expertise with me.

Love you Mom!

The Quarter Life Crisis

I am having a QLC. A Quarter Life Crisis. This is when a person who is roughly a quarter of the way done with their life becomes irrationally nervous about getting older and becoming a part of the "real world." 

Did I make up "Quarter Life Crisis"? ...Maybe. It was either me or Freud. You know what, maybe it was Locke. Obviously, there's no way of knowing for sure, so let's just move on. 

I know this is silly because I'm still young and 10 years from now I'm going to look back on this and want to kick myself but still. I'm having a QLC and that's that. I can  now say the phrase "when I was a kid..." without being ironic. Sure, it's not a tragedy, but it's pretty sad, right? 

It started on my birthday in January.  My twentieth birthday was the first birthday I really didn't want to happen.  I called my mom that morning, crying, because it had finally hit me: I am becoming an adult. I recognized that it was foolish to cry on your own birthday, but there I was, crying all the same. 

(Side-note: crying in my pajamas on the phone with my mom...look out adult world, I'm coming for you)

My mother's response to my anxiety about entering my twenties? It went a little like this: 

"Yeah, well, this is a big decade honey.  This is when you get a job, get an apartment or a house, get married, maybe have kids- it's the most important decisions of your life, really."

...Thanks Mom. Now I'm totally relaxed. 

But she's right. This is an important decade. What did I do from ages 10-20? Have fun. Get taller. Decorate some posters for class projects.  For some reason, when I now look back at this past decade it feels like a blur of classrooms, family dinners, and car rides.  I'm lucky enough to have friends who have been around since before I was 10 even, and it's odd to know that I have actually seen them grow up. I have grown up beside them, and in the next 10 years, we're going to grow even more. I never understood how, as you grow older, the history of yourself truly builds.  It gets heavier, and richer like a tapestry being spun slowly out of a loom. Perhaps I never understood this because I never felt I had too much of history to claim until I turned 20. 

The QLC remained dormant for a while as I buried myself in the very college-ness that is my life.  There is no better way to live in denial of the real world than to be a student at Wake Forest. It's called the Bubble for a reason, my friends.  Sorority functions, going to class, planning for abroad, planning a philanthropy event, staying up late with my friends, eating an absurd amount of frozen yogurt- life was young, and completely non-adult. I wore sweatpants to class one day. My thirties self, who is (fingers-crossed) employed will look back on that day with envy. 

(Side-note: My hometown, Mountain Brook, is also referred to as the Bubble...so I like bubbles, sue me)

But then...it came time to celebrate the senior class.  Towards the end of spring semester, it seems that every other day you are celebrating some group of seniors.  No more kidding around, you have to face the fact they're leaving you and the Bubble because that's the way it works.  These celebrations are quintessentially bittersweet.  It's your classic reverse-sour-patch-kid moment: first it's sweet, and then it's sour. It's sweet when all of your friends come together and you realize how much you love everyone and how lucky you are to know them. It's sour when people start giving speeches and toasts to those graduating and your realize how much you love the seniors is an exact prediction of how much you're going to miss them. 

Guess what? I'm only two years behind these seniors. Thus, the QLC gets kicked up a notch. 

I know, I promise, I know that I will be fine. I do still have two more years of college ahead of me and, being realistic, I most likely have some grad school in my future (what's up Religion/English major).  Still, it's hard to shake that feeling of unpreparedness.  As my history grows, I feel like I don't have anywhere to put it. As if I'm trying to fit this big, bulky tapestry into my backpack when really, it's time I bought a suitcase. 

Here's to the next decade. Here's to having a mid-life crisis and wishing I could have a quarter life crisis in stead. Here's to the seniors graduating (please don't go) and here's to the good parts about getting older. Because, let's be honest, in just 5 short years I'll be able to rent a car and reserve a hotel room. Now that's living. 

Okay, now let's get back to studying.