This column originally published in the Indiana Gazette and Blairsville Dispatch newspaper on July 31, 2024.
A couple of months ago, I wrote an article for the newspaper about local elementary school classes that worked together with the school librarian to write and create their own “Choose Your Own Adventure” books, inspired by the classic book series from the 1980s and ’90s.
If you’re not already familiar, the fun of “Choose Your Own Adventure” books is that the possibilities are endless. The path a reader chooses to take at the end of each page dictates how the rest of the story plays out. These books can be read countless times over and over again, with a different ending to discover each time.
I attended the assembly held at the end of the school year, in which the students finally received individual copies of their books.
As part of the celebration, the librarian projected the pages of each book onto a large screen so that it could be read through as a group. Fifth-graders’ names were chosen at random, and they were given the opportunity to decide at the end of each page what story path the group would take.
Firstly, have you ever been around a fifth-grader? No? Well, take my word for it when I tell you they are a ruthless breed. They are passionate about what they want, and they’ll make sure you know it, even when it’s not their turn.
For example, an unsuspecting student would have their name selected, and before they even had time to process their new fate as the Chosen One, their peers would erupt into a loud cacophony of demands: “CHOOSE THIS!” or “DO THIS!” or “NO, DON’T CHOOSE THAT!”
The poor kid that got selected was so disoriented and embarrassed by the public burden of responsibility that it seemed to me like they just chose what the mob at large wanted in order to avoid social consequences. I mean, wouldn’t you do the same? It’s a jungle out there in elementary school.
I watched all of these Darwin-esque childhood dramatics play out that afternoon from my seat in the corner of the gymnasium, and I thought wryly to myself, “Get used to it, kids.”
Because here I am, at 23 years old, and I still feel like a little kid in the middle of a crowd who often can’t hear her own thoughts over the loud clashing of everyone else’s words.
It suffocates the soul to repeatedly turn down the volume on one’s own inner voice in order to hear others’ more clearly.
I’m thankful for the glorious escapism that “Choose Your Own Adventure” books give children, but they are not a reflection of reality. In real life, there are rarely ever do-overs. You cannot jump back 20 pages and choose a different path if you don’t like the ending you got. And unfortunately, you cannot live several paths at once.
We tell children they can have it all, but that’s not always true — this is why choices matter. You pick one thing and simultaneously give up another. It’s a tough pill to swallow, but it also adds some sweetness to life. This is what makes a life a life.
Truthfully, I don’t “want it all.” I don’t want every possibility to come to fruition. I want to be at the finish line of my life one day and know that maybe not everything came to be, not every path was taken, but that I did my best to tune into that little voice in my heart and make choices based off what she’s whispering to me.
The choices one makes while reading a “Choose Your Own Adventure” book hold no real weight because they can always be undone.
The more important lesson these books teach us is whether we have the courage to choose what we really want, especially when we’re left alone with our own thoughts.
Which makes me wonder: When those fifth-graders finally went home, and sat down somewhere quiet and alone with their book, what happened? Did they still hear the pulsing echoes of their friends’ demands, or did they listen to that quiet little voice in their heart?
For all of us, I hope it’s the latter.