My Old Arse
I’ve always been a sucker for a good coming of age story. Whether it’s a novel or a movie, these stories pull my emotional heart strings. They also usually provide some laughs along the way. I was recently moved by one entitled My Old Ass. It’s a funny title with an unusual twist, one I don’t think I’ve seen before, and that in itself is saying something. What struck me, though, is that “coming of age” doesn’t just happen in adolescence. Oh, it begins there, but the older I get, the more I understand that coming into ourselves never ends.
Let’s start with adolescents as protagonists. Sometimes the plot involves a decision, whether to go along with the crowd or be true to oneself. Sometimes it requires taking a physical risk, proving oneself through a quest or accomplishment. On occasion, the plot is about seeking true love, overcoming parental misdirection or personal hardships. Plots and their conflicts vary greatly depending on race, culture, and economic status. A story in this case is an insightful way to learn about other groups of people. These and many other potential conflicts are what drive us to grow. Struggle is motivation. Sometimes we face the struggle and grow, and sometimes we don’t. (Of course, those latter stories don’t make good movies.)
In adolescence, we are usually coming into physiological brain changes that allow us to think abstractly, consider different ways of thinking, become frustrated with the status quo, and maybe even realize that we can think for ourselves for the first time. That’s why “coming of age” stories are so classically adolescent. It may be these same brain changes (and lack of their completion) that allow or cause so many adolescent catastrophes. How many times has an adolescent taken a dare, only to find themselves on top of a water tower and terrified of the height, unable to get down. I’m sure any adult reading this can remember a party they wish they’d never gone to, a date they could recreate, or a major decision they’d like to make with a “do-over.” Hopefully we can laugh at this point, but sometimes the impact doesn’t go away. That’s why I think “coming of age” doesn’t really have an age limit. Hopefully it never ends, as we face challenges throughout our lives and are never too old to overcome previous mistakes and grow into our truer, better selves.
Adolescents have to struggle with the angst of trying to figure out who they really want to be during a time when they are pushing back against what everyone else is telling them they should be, trying to be the individual they know they are, but still afraid to be different from those around them. This is particularly hard in middle and high school where the pressure to fit into a specific group, to find a place to belong, requires conformity to a new set of norms, equally pressured, sometimes without the guardrails they know are of value
At the risk of sounding like things I’ve previously written, Camp is a safe place to come of age for the first time. One can find a sense of belonging without all the conformity of middle school and high school groupings or the stress of trying to achieve week after week. It is a safe place to take risks because there are guardrails that don’t seem like guardrails, physical safety nets, emotional support, young adults who listen and guide, living in the day-to-day closeness of the camp environment. There are wise older adults, teachers, coaches, who guide the young adults. It is a safe place to fail. There are “do-overs” built into the overarching philosophy of “helping kids become their best selves.” Every passage is a “coming of age,” built on previous passages. As a starting place, Camp Mishawaka is as good a foundation as you’ll find anywhere.