Sometimes I forget that I’m not a kid anymore. Last April I turned 18, my early spring birthday marking the line that, at least on paper, separates childhood and adulthood. Yet there is more to being an adult than being able to get your ears pierced at the mall without your parents, or hitting the gym in the middle of a Monday because you’re no longer beholden to a public school schedule. But at the same time, me and all the other kids who turned 18 this year are still young people — young people that are still grappling with the pressure that has been put on them since they were young kids to usher in the future.

Ever since I went off to Pennsylvania to attend Bryn Mawr College last fall, I have been turning over and over in my head the ways that I can still be in conversation with this community. I am well aware of the loyal following I have garnered from writing these columns, and I want to continue a dialogue with you all. At the same time, though, I am getting older. I am no longer the same 16-year-old who pleaded with you all to vote for Biden in the 2020 election, or the 17-year-old that spoke so eloquently about 9/11 despite never having experienced it. Still, though, people look to me for my young person’s perspective, and while I am still eager to give it, my time away at college has given me a new way of thinking about what it means to do so.

The conclusion I have come to is that us young people are under a lot of pressure to “be the future.” We’re expected to represent everything new, radical, and far removed from how older generations view things. My generation has even made a name for themselves doing just that. Yet what I want to remind you all is that under all our eloquent words and powerful protests; our avant-garde opinions and our addictive TikToks, we’re still just kids. While we are passionate about changing the world, we are also passionate about finding joy and having fun. Not everything we do needs to be seen as some great achievement, and sometimes our words need to just be taken at face value instead of implying some infinite wisdom.

Do not mistake this for ingratitude. I am eternally grateful that I have been given this platform, and a wide array of listeners. What I am trying to do here is to call your attention to the raising of the young people in your life once again, but through a more lighthearted lens. Over my winter break away from college, I had the privilege of being the coach to a dedicated, talented group of ski racers at Berkshire East. I came into the job without a clue, but was welcomed enthusiastically and soon found myself experiencing some of the purest joy I have in a long time from watching these kids not only improve their skiing skills but interact with the people in their lives. Through this job, I was reminded of how joyful it truly is to be a young person.

So, after months away at Bryn Mawr, I briefly return to you all with this message: while it is wonderful to characterize our children as the future, they are children first. They are just as soon to crack a joke about potatoes with their friends as they are to say something life-changing, because that is the character of my generation. We are equal parts wise and childish, working to change the unfair world we have been dealt while simultaneously figuring out who we are and what we want.

That characterization of Gen Z and all the generations that come after it is what I wish to leave you with as I head back to college. Our wisdom doesn’t just come from our youth, but from the choices that we make and the culture we foster that is in turn interpreted by older generations to be indicative of a brave future. And this goes for me, too. Through these columns, I am simply sharing my own thoughts — it is you all who have decided that I am wise.

If you are looking for the wisdom of the younger generations, it is not hard to find; simply reach out to the young ones in your life without the expectation that what they say or do has to be life-changing. Even if they are not sharing with you some earth-shattering discourse on politics, it is likely you will be pleasantly surprised by what you hear when you listen in. Kids are just kids, even when they’re changing the world. And who knows, maybe jokes about potatoes are the secret to everything.

Madeline Raymond lives in Goshen.

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