Do you ever think about your "magic age?" For me, it's 28. When I was a kid, I always tried to imagine myself at 28. I envisioned pencil skirts and pointy black stilettos and long hair I'd twist back in a loose bun. I played with Barbies frequently throughout elementary school, concocting elaborate scenarios detailing my wedding, marriage, career, and motherhood.
I find it both amusing and wistful to reflect on the inner workings of my seven-year-old mind.
Pretend play defined my childhood. Books, dress-up, blocks, drawing: it all manifested into imaginary role play. From princess to dragon-slayer, actress to orphan, chef to astronaut, I experienced each guise over and over (and over) again.
I feel strongly about nurturing imagination in my students. It's why I teach at the pre-K level. In some weird way, I feel like I am still able to think like they do, which is why going to work every day doesn't feel like work at all.
In a few months, I'll turn 28. I own a single pair of stilettos (they hurt), and the last time I wore a pencil skirt, I was 21 and on my first real job interview. It's true that I often throw my hair back in a loose bun, but I assure you, it's way more "Ms. Frizzle" than "Vogue-chic."
I don't know what 28 will be. I still don't know what 27 is.
I only know I want to keep playing.