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Uwhat does your memory bump look like? If that sounds like a blow to the head with a hint of amnesia, it’s not – but it can be just as painful. No, as Lucy Fowlkes explains in her eye-opening guide to the psychology of adolescence, this is the period of life when people report the greatest number of important autobiographical memories. For most of us, it starts around 10 and peaks at 20, involving a host of firsts: first kiss, first love, first drinking or drugs, first time away from home. Not to mention exams, bullying, separation and loss of loved ones. On second thought, maybe a concussion would be preferable. But then, as Foulkes shows, it’s those enduringly bright years that define the adults we become.
Chloe’s memories are off to a quick start thanks to her wild friend Natalie: “When I was 14 I broke my ankle so I left school. Natalie knew where my spare key was so she went inside and woke me up with a syringe and a bottle of alcohol. The school called me, but I said I hadn’t seen her. After the ankle healed, they headed to Skegness to get tattoos and then spent much of the next few years “having sex with a lot of people, doing a lot of drugs, running away from school, going out in cars with a lot of older men “.
For Vicki, things were very different: “I remember one night it was boys, one night it was makeup, in a way that annoyed me and was so unfamiliar.” It took her a while to find her tribe, which turned out to be other members of the school group. “It was so nice because they were fun and goofy and just being themselves. And they accepted me. I think I was looking for peace, you know. My life at home was happy, but it was chaos.
Foulkes, a research fellow in psychology at Oxford University, conducted 23 in-depth interviews for Coming of Age, and they are by turns funny, hair-raising and desperately sad. Sometimes, like Naomi’s account of her first love, Peter, they have a sort of novelistic force. In any case, the majority of readers will find someone they can identify with among her diverse cast of teenagers. Most are now in their 30s or older and look back with sadness, regret, or something like coolness. Their narratives allow Foulkes to make his central point: that we narrate our lives in being, and that adolescence is so important in part because it is where that narrative begins in earnest. The stories we tell ourselves shape who we are, and we can get stuck in those stories or change them to our advantage.
However, the book is not just anecdote, the clearly explained research provides many counter-intuitive insights. There are, for example, two ways to be popular. “Perceived popularity” is a realm of jocks and cheerleaders, boys and girls who, if you’re lucky, might laugh at one of your jokes or let you hang out with them at halftime. The consensus is that they are popular, but when you ask individuals, it turns out that almost everyone hates them. This is in contrast to “sociometric popularity”, which involves actual liking; these are the thoughtful, supportive friends, the ones you really enjoy hanging out with. Surprisingly – or not – the fastest route to perceived popularity is to conform particularly well to the ‘stereotypical appearance and behavior associated with [your] gender’. Those who don’t, especially heterosexual guys considered effeminate, have a harder time.
This phenomenon – sports boys and girls rule the night – is thought to partly reflect biological imperatives. Mentally, adolescence may be about figuring out who you are, but physically, it’s about choosing a partner. “Sex-prototypical teenagers” are those “who are hypothesized to attract more sexual partners.” In other words, Foulkes writes drily, “teenagers give social status to teenagers who are most likely to be liked.” Comfortingly, perhaps, the reign of the perceived popular does not necessarily extend into adulthood. The qualities required of teenagers at the top of the social hierarchy, such as ruthlessness, do not always serve them well later in life, while the soft skills and support networks nurtured by the sociometrically popular do. For some, the “high school peak” is all too real.
Foulkes’ chapter on risk-taking is particularly interesting, debunking the idea that teenagers have the illusion of invincibility, which makes them more likely to step into the path of danger. She says there is little evidence that they are unaware of the potential dangers of so-called “pseudo-mature” behaviors such as smoking, taking drugs or having unprotected sex. In fact, they tend to overestimate the likelihood of bad things happening, but they do anyway. Why? Well, aside from the undeniable rewards – some of these things just feel good – it’s often because they are More ▼ scared of social risk not to participate. Adolescents are, in a sense, very conservative – they will do anything to keep their good standing in the group.
It’s tempting to wrap them in cotton wool, but as Fulks shows, that can have its harmful effects. If young people are unable to learn through experience that worst-case scenarios rarely happen, their anxiety, rather than being quelled, may increase. It’s part of arguments she’s made elsewhere about the impulse to protect a generation apparently suffering from unprecedented levels of psychological stress, with technology cited as the culprit. Adolescence is inherently a highly stressful time, she argues, and for some it triggers mental illness. But if teenagers are busy writing their lives, do we want to insert a chapter titled “too fragile to handle” unless absolutely necessary?
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Growing up ends poignantly. Foulkes showed each of her subjects what she had written to make sure they were happy with how they were portrayed. These were stories of joy, pain and loss that resonated in their lives. For many, seeing them presented as part of the larger story of adolescence prompted a reassessment. One said their “shoulders had finally dropped” after 20 years, another that they now felt ready to talk to others about what they had been through. Adolescence may be the first stage of personality, but it need not be the last.
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