Not really. But I try.

Yesterday, upperclassman gathered in the large theater for the community’s efforts to prevent us from drunk driving. Prom is here, and the temptations to be a stupid teenager are many.

The assembly broke my heart. As I sat there and listened to a father relive losing his daughter to a violent drunk driving accident,  I grew distracted. Behind me sat other juniors who loudly fanned themselves with folders as if they were dying in the Sahara.

I realized in that moment how oblivious those students were to the moment and their surroundings.

There is a time and place for everything.

I am no angel. I curse. I lie. I can be a diva. But I learned my place at the age of eight when I crossed the line at church and suffered the wrath of my mother. Apparently, my peers need my mother to scold them, too.

A few days ago, my friend was talking to me in class and ended up saying “sh*t” in front of a teacher. I looked at my friend and said, “Girl, you need to chill.”

I talk to adults and even my peers like I’m an adult. I demand respect from anyone, and I know deserve that respect because I have earned it through my actions and words.

I behave maturely 80% of the time, and the other 20% is for when I’m home alone, with friends or out somewhere.

Because there is a time and place.

I’m not going to scream and yell as if I’m at a raging party when in reality I’m at a family BBQ. “Holy dope, Mom! These mashed potatoes are so dank!”

No. No. I’d prefer to act like the mature young adult that I am. “Wow, Mom, these mashed potatoes are really good.”

Evaluating the situation is the crucial determiner of my actions, which means I have learned when to bite my tongue.

When my mother (whom I love oh so dearly) is yelling at me for not putting my dishes in the dishwasher (pure laziness on my part, and I know that) instead of screaming back at her, I’ll wait a hot minute, call my friend and tell her all about how my mom is being ridiculous.

Time and place.

There are certain times when formal dresses and heels are much more appropriate than a skirt and tank top. And getting loud and crazy with friends would probably be a better activity to take part in when we’re at an Childish Gambino concert.

See what I’m saying?

As far as my peers, teachers and family are concerned, I am a mature, well-behaved, young adult who deserves the respect I have already obtained. I wouldn’t do anything to alter that respect.