The perils of being precocious

This isn't precisely what the hella material, but it is food for thought. This girl, at 19, is becoming a college professor in Korea. Now, part of me wants to say, good for you. When I was 19 (actually 18....) I was invited to lecture in PhD-level Russian history classes. (The ruse worked until after one of my chats about Aleksandr Radishchev, my professor/adoptive grandpa/hero decided to announce to the class, "And now I will be taking Miss Zhenya out for lunch to celebrate her 19th birthday." Gee, thanks, pal.)

Anyway, clearly I'm not one to stand in the way of intellectual progress.... But, for argument's sake, I think this is a bad idea. It was something my parents struggled with when I was young, too. How many grades should she skip? Because I was spelling at 1 and a half, did that mean I should start kindergarten at 2? Because I was reading Melville at 6, should I bypass high school? Blah blah blah. And you know, I'm glad that they decided to keep me more or less with my peer group (ok, I was still always the youngest one in the class....but we're talking years here, not decades). There is so much more to maturity than the ability to rattle off equations or recite Dante or translate Arabic in your head. (I can do one of those three things, and it's a real hit at cocktail parties. Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'entrate, and all that jazz!) It took precocious young moi a long time to realize it, but you know what? Sometimes those creatures called parents are right.

Do I doubt that this young woman is intellectually prepared for the rigors of developing a syllabus, instructing her pupils, conducting research, etc? Not in the slightest. But do I think that she's emotionally ready? Welllllll.......no. At 19, I still drove too fast, galloped around on unfamiliar horses, woke up with excruciating hangovers (ok.....that still happens sometimes), dated questionable men, and thought I was the only person on earth who really existed. I hate to admit that my parents were right, but age does bring some sort of wisdom - perspective, experience, all that esoteric stuff. Alia will have no trouble explaining historical eras to the cute 23-year-old in the second row, but how will she respond to his flirtation? Like a 19 year old, or like a professor? Hell, she's not even old enough to buy a drink.

Kids..... There's plenty of time. You don't have to save the world before you've even seen it. (Wow, am I becoming conservative in my doddering old age? Ahhhhhh!?!?) I feel for this girl, who may wake up when she's thirty and think, I never got to be a teenager. I feel for her even more because I suspect that moment may never happen at all.