Acting Your Age

When I was eleven I dreaded turning twelve.  Despite the relative milestone that turning twelve marks (especially for a young Mormon boy), it was also the age when I knew I could no longer play with Legos.  Though no one told me to box my Legos, I knew it was true because the packaging they came in had an age recommendation printed right on it: ages 6-12. (It must not have occurred to me that I could play with them through age twelve.)

 

I suppose that if I had been a more critical child I would have recognized the many reasons that the age recommendation was on the box and understood that it wasn’t a guideline telling kids when they needed to grow up.  If I was more free-spirited I might have just done what I pleased and ignored what the Lego execs thought.  Instead, I cared a lot.  I didn’t want to act like a little kid when I was getting older.  So I put my Legos away and never took them out again.

 

In the years since I’ve come to see this experience as a small but adequate illustration of the impact age has on our actions.  In my case there was really no reason not to continue playing with Legos, but I didn’t want to seem oddly immature.  We’ve all probably seen this work the other way, where a kid (probably a teen or tween) is unusually mature but has to mask that fact to fit in.  In essence, the pressure to “act your age” is immense and if someone fails to give in to that pressure they risk becoming an outcast.

 

While many people probably have similarly illuminative experiences from childhood, I don’t think this phenomenon stops when people grow up.  Instead, a lot of us get good at acting our ages.  We learn to dress and act according to our roles, but when someone doesn’t it’s easy to spot.  After all, who hasn’t seen an adult trying to act younger (or older) than they really are?  I have, and even though I think age is a relatively arbitrary thing I still can’t help thinking those people are kind of pathetic.

 

Ultimately, if the pressure to behave in age appropriate ways continues indefinitely, I think the phrase “act your age” is more appropriate than we might realize.  If, when we hear this phrase, we usually focus on the word “age,” it’s also worth remembering that “act” is at the heart of the mandate.  In turn, this word suggests that the connection between behavior and age is an “act.”  Significantly, the word “act” doesn’t necessarily imply any relationship to reality but instead indicates a performance at best or a façade at worst.  Finally then, learning to “act your age” means learning to perform in ways that satisfy the needs and expectations of those around you.  (Those needs may be very physical, such as caring for an ailing family member, or more abstract, such as people’s need for equilibrium and a lack of extreme figures in their lives.) 

 

The reality or truth behind the age-act façade may be non-existent or simply unknowable.  (After all, what is the best absolute and most objectively appropriate way to act for each age?)  I don’t think it’s a stretch in this context, however, to see the phrase “act your age” as more or less synonymous with something like “conform to your community” or “submit to your station.”  Those phrases may connote more negatively than I really want, but the point is that age is an arbitrary determiner of behavior.  And while it may be a socially useful guide, I think that recognizing the underlying meaninglessness of age might ultimately result in greater communication and understanding between people.