The Four Fastest Years of Our Lives

By Tom Anselm

The phenomenon of the high school years is one of great ironies, paradoxes and flux. A kid enters as a child, barely 14 in most cases, and by the time they walk across that faculty-infested stage, they are grown. At least physically. Once a fuzz-faced boy, a giggly first-year girl, then a deep-voiced young man on the brink of manhood and a lovely, confident young woman.

Along the way, the experiences and emotions, victories and defeats, challenges and risings, all come into their path from every angle. There is the coursework, the classes, assignments, deadlines, projects. I mean, without that, what would the teachers do? And then the extras, like the budding romances, the tryouts and cutlists and auditions and trips and homecoming and prom and peer pressures and … well, so much in so short a time. Not to mention the inevitable burden of grade point average and ACT/SAT and college or not, military or whatever may be next in life.

These four short years can be fraught with joys and celebrations, or heartbreaks and disappointments, all within the framework of a flood of hormonal changes and growth spurts and discovery of self.

Oh, and how could I forget to mention, turning 16 and driving? Yikes. A whole new world of freedom mixed with responsibility that turns kids loose on the roads and their parents’ hair gray.

Sometime is it hard to believe that the oldest of our current crop of grandkids are in this category. They’ve already sampled some of the joys and triumphs, and felt

some of the pains of disappointment. We’ve rejoiced and suffered, respectively, with their experiences. We know how it is, having been there ourselves long days ago. How great it can all be, and also how tough. This time is a training camp for life quite unlike any they will come across, and the opportunities for growth are there, but there also appear many stormy seas that need to be safely crossed.

As with our own children, Jill and I are negotiating these     new waters for our

offspring’s offspring, hopefully with wisdom, and daily with   prayer, while allowing them their space. And always with our love. The quick math shows that, as is now stands, we will be co-journeyers with a teenager in high school for almost the next 18 years. Eighteen years. Wow. Grandpa in the graduation audience at 88? Yeah!! Wheel me up front, won’t you, sweetie?

I substitute teach in high schools around the area. This entails negotiating the hallways, supervising independent work and keeping the general order. As a by-product, I get to hear the conversations that indicate that things are just as I have noted, no matter what school I am in.

I seldom get to interact with these kids, as I am merely a placeholder until their teacher returns. But I can smile at them and ask them how their day is going and say “hey, cool shoes” or “great haircut.” And I can look out at these soon-to-be-leaders of our land and offer a silent prayer to The Big Looker-Outer in the Sky, asking that His guidance and protection be generously showered upon them and all high schoolers.

It’s the least I can do.

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