In my experience with teenagers, which includes teaching college freshmen and high school seniors, a short stint as an interim youth minister, and now raising up my two girls, I’m just going to go ahead and say it: if a teenager ever refers to you as a genius without an obvious sarcastic lilt, friends, you need to claim that title. And so, I do. In fact, I am happy to do so, given that I was so dubbed for my writer status by my 16 year old quite recently. Yesterday, actually.
As I have written about in previous posts, we are a family that does various read alouds together and watches movies together (sometimes while enjoying some homemade pizza). During each of these activities over the past few days, my 16 year old registered first her disappointment in my story spoiler moments and followed that up with a bit of wonder at my uncanny ability to announce my sneaking story suspicions, and have them proved right.
In the most recent moment, as we watched the end of Mary Poppins Returns, a key piece of information flew into my mind and without hesitation (or much thought), I paused the movie and shared my speculation. Only a few seconds later, that same information was revealed in the movie. It did not take me long to register my teen’s annoyance; it was written on her face and shared in her words: that moment would have hit harder if you hadn’t spoiled it. Mind you, she was not rude or caustic. She was quite obviously deeply disappointed.
In the wake of that particular spoiler moment, she and I have had a couple of different conversations. She is admittedly astonished with my ability and says it’s clearly because writing is my thing, the thing I’m obviously good at. If only she knew. If only she had any idea how little I believe that sometimes, that writing is a skill where I excel. At one point, I think she even referred to this gift of mine—to see what comes next in a story—as magic. As genius, even, my splash of genius.
Can I tell you how much I love the sound of that?
Still, I understand that her admiration and awe is butted up against the annoyance for spoilers shared. But I have received her admonishment and I have let myself know in no uncertain terms that those displays are not okay. Because if I am honest with myself, I probably didn’t need to blurt out some of the things I did during our family viewing or reading. While my husband doesn’t tend to care one way or the other, I realize my plot pronouncements disrupt the story’s magic for my teenagers.
Even so, I hold fast to the admiration both teenagers have for my way with words and my understanding of story. Do I need to demonstrate that in the ways I have recently? Definitely not. Will I however carry their veneration into my daily writing time and projects? Absolutely. Because, like I said, when a teenager tells you you are a genius for any reason, you seize that esteemed title without shame. And when that title is bestowed upon you by your teenagers? You don’t accept the title alone; you forge a (metaphorical) crown and wear it proudly, even when you are only making dinner or folding laundry. Now, if you’ll excuse me, this genius has some waffles to make.