Remember the child within you

by Ryan Ernst

I know this kid named Corey.

Like any 10-year-old boy, he likes to play. He plays Wiffle Ball. He rides his bike nowhere in particular - just to ride. He roughhouses, plays ball in the house and chases his dog until they're both out of breath.

Corey, however, is not an average 10-year-old boy. He is a 20-year-old college student at Ohio University, and he reminds everyone he knows that although we are in college, we are not yet full-fledged adults. We can still act like children.

Corey throws rocks at objects just to see if he can hit them. He goes to the Aquatic Center every week, but not to swim laps - just to swim. And every week, a lifeguard yells at him for trying to do flips off the board. He's an adventure recreation major; his work is his recreation.

On Halloween weekend, someone dared him to sleep in a pile of leaves on the side of the house. I walked outside in the morning and there he was curled up in the crackling, brownish-orange nest with his pillow.

Corey wanders around the house, sometimes with a bat, sometimes with a football, Frisbee or pool cue, looking for a game. He smiles - almost all of the time.

And when people see Corey, they forget about their papers and meetings and tests, and they play with him.

Somewhere between junior high school and college, most of us forget how to have fun. We stop climbing fences. We try to avoid getting sprayed by lawn sprinklers. We begin coming in for supper before our mothers stand on the front porch and scream our names.

We get deadlines, priorities and workloads. We enter the rat race and have to get back to the grind. We develop portfolios and ulcers.

We plan for tomorrow instead of living today.

But not Corey - he could have a comprehensive test in a difficult class and not have the smallest trace of worry. It could be the kind of test that would keep most college students in a constant state of panic until the grades are recorded and returned, and he wouldn't break a sweat.

"Hey Corey, did you study for that econ test we have today?" you might ask him.

"No, but I built this really cool fort under the pool table."

Now you want to yell at the kid. You want to tell him to get his act together and grow up. But the fort - well, the fort is pretty sweet. And you feel cheated for going to supplemental instruction sessions, sitting at the library staring into books and trying to stretch four-page papers into the six-page minimum when all this time you could have been building forts.

College is supposed to prepare you for the real world. You're supposed to buckle down so you can be successful after school. But let's face it, this place is a playground for young adults. These are supposed to be the best years of a person's life and some students walk around like they already have the mortgage payments and job stress of a 50-year-old professional.

Make sure you stay on top of your schoolwork. But take time out of your busy schedule to play.

Jump over puddles. Take people up on dares. Climb things.

Remember, there is no fort-building once you're in the real world.

Ernst is a senior journalism major who still has a Nerf hoop in his room. Send comments to re340397.