Clarissa's Blog

The first time I worked a full-time job was in the summer when I was fifteen. My dad found me a job in the office of one of his clients. I wasn’t allowed to keep any of the money I made, but I loved it. The business owner was this big, gruff dude who was so eager to have a business of his own (and remember, this was very early post-Soviet times) that he learned to speak fluent Italian in order to be able to communicate with his customers.

It felt cool to have a job, to dress up every day and go sit there in front of a computer. I loved the experience. This is why I don’t understand parents who don’t allow their teenage children to work. I already know several such cases, all boys between ages 16 and 18. This is so strange to me. In the cases I know, this is not an issue of not having transportation. Rather, it’s an issue of mom saying that she’d rather her little treasure have a childhood instead of having to go out to work.

My 16-year-old niece worked a full-time job this summer. She loved it. It was a wonderful experience. It made her feel more grown, organized, and proud of her growing competence. She doesn’t have a car, so it was public transportation on a long journey there and back. Still, she loved it. Isn’t that the normal thing?

I sincerely don’t get it.