Advanced Essay #1: "It's Just A Phase, You'll Grow Out Of It"

Intro

“It’s Just A Phase, You’ll Grow Out Of It” - something that most of us have heard in our childhood. I’m sure I can speak for many people when I say that we have had numerous interests growing up. One of the main purposes of this piece is to provoke thoughts about the phases that we, as children have gone through. I want the reader to think back on their phases, and how they’ve influenced them as people. I’m proud of my analysis because I was able to take a random scene that I felt like writing, and turned it into a stronger idea. To improve for next time, I would try to add an expert’s opinion to strengthen my points.

It’s Just A Phase, You’ll Grow Out Of It

The development of a person’s interests starts at a really young age. In some cases, at or even before the extremely young age of only 3 months old. At that age, I spent my time either sleeping or watching my grandmother, the family’s iron chef in action. I would always be fascinated by the aromas of spice, the crackling of boiling water, and the unpleasant smell of burnt food.

Those sensations inspired me to want to try to make something to eat. As soon as I could reach the lowest cupboards, I decided to give cooking a shot. I tiptoed into her kitchen and gathered anything and everything I could find in the cupboards. Pots, check, pans, check, wooden spoon, check. I arranged them in a neat manner and started banging away. CRASH! CLINK! BANG! Stir, stir, stir! My young, silly brain thought that if I would do that for enough time, I would make some delicious food. Although I wasn’t really cooking anything, the satisfaction of marinating a beautiful steak still radiated within my brain.

“What’s for dinner tonight, Chef Majd?” my aunt asked me, returning from a protracted day of work.

“Something really delicious,” I replied in toddler gibberish.

“That sounds fantastic. I can’t wait to eat!”, she answered cheerfully.

Excitedly, she sprung over and picked some “food” up with a spoon, and sniffed around to catch some pleasant aroma in her nose.

“This needs a bit more salt, Majd.”

I filled my wooden stirring spoon with salt, in my attempt to satisfy her imaginary taste buds.

“Woah, woah, woah. That’s too much. Maybe dump half out, Chef.”

Annoyed, I opened the shaker and slammed half of the salt into it. I then dumped the remainder of the salt onto the table, which I thought was food. But then, I heard a loud bang - I had elbowed the salt container. My mind went from happiness to worry. I thought my grandmother was going to kill me. I made a mess of the kitchen floor that she loves so much!

My aunt smiled at me, and reassured me, “even Grandma still does that.” Hearing that eradicated all of the anxiety and worry of upsetting my grandmother and replaced it with hysterical laughter.

Eventually, the interest in cooking died out for me. Later on, I started finding tall buildings interesting. Then I moved on to sports, then sneakers, and most recently photography. I still ponder why some interests are prominent in your brain one day, but then the next day, they feel like they were never there. My theory is that with exposure to new things come new and more diverse interests. I reminisce about first discovering aviation. My father took me to the Philadelphia International Airport for the first time when I was about 4 years old.

All of a sudden, a large object appears on the horizon. It looks like a large, metallic bird. It has four circles arranged symmetrically, two under each wing. The face appears to not have any movement. While gliding towards us, it appears that this thing is huge. The engines purred and deafened my young ears. My father thrusts me on top of his shoulders, and fear intensifies.

“Oh my god, this plane is going to hit me!” I exclaim to my father.

My father chuckles as the large Boeing 747 jetliner passes above us. The expression on our faces resembled matching game pieces. We both were blown away (figuratively, that is) by the majesty of that airplane. Being the stereotypical toddler that I was, I barrage my father with questions about the airplane.

“How does that thing fly?

“Why is it so fast?”

“How many people can it hold?”

“Can we stay here for longer?”

It was at that moment that I knew that I was obsessed with airplanes. It’s been a phase that I’ve gone through for almost twelve years. I’m actually still going through this phase, and I don’t see an end to it anytime soon. It’s sure a challenging phase to go through, but that’s a good thing. The aviation universe is already astronomical and is still expanding. I don’t think I’ll ever come out of this phase. It has taken control of my life.

Eureka - that is how phases are born, and sometimes die. Phases are an important aspect of the childhood of the average person. They are born by exposure to really cool objects and die as a result of boredom. Sometimes a really interesting phase can take control of your life. I completed my first solo flight in an airplane at the age of sixteen, and am planning on continuing on with my passion for aviation. Therefore, I believe that going through phases is an important aspect of a childhood. As annoying as they could be for parents, they are essential to help build interests.