Week 3

I had always known that I would be different than my coworkers. In my interview, my boss warned me that I would be the youngest... by far. This didn't seem to worry me at the time. I've always held my own in a room full of adults and as the youngest cousin, I found myself in that situation often. My mother even refers to me as a 30 year-old trapped inside a 17 year-old's body. However, there is a distinct difference between my coworkers and I. I live with my parents and go to bed at 10:30 on "school nights." They often would forget that I was still in high school and ask me where I went last night. My reply was always "home to do homework." My life must sound pretty boring to them but I am at a very unique stage: the threshold of entering their world and leaving mine. The day after my internship ends, I will be going to my senior prom as many of the other interns graduate college and other staff look forward to their weddings. As much as I may be eager to be a part of their world, I am sure they miss mine, too. I know that I am already starting to miss it and it isn't even over yet!

Part of acting older is compartmentalizing. There is school Katie, and dance Katie, and each day that I stepped foot into the State House, intern Katie emerged. Immediately, I threw aside my high-schooler tendencies and adopted a more mature appearance and air. I felt I needed to change who I was. That was, until I met Secretary of Health and Human Services Marylou Sudders. She describes her career as a series of calculated leaps and the subsequent panic as she attempted to figure out how to do the job; a method of learning on the fly that dominates my life as well. Her focus on mental health allowed her to make tremendous change in Massachusetts' services. I grew to admire her very quickly into her introduction at the Intern speaker series. She then asked each intern in the room of 10 people to say our name and where we were studying. With each intern before me announcing their impressive title of sophomore in college or senior in college, I felt my face getting hotter and hotter. Finally it was my turn, and I announced that I was a senior in high school. My statement was returned with a few "oh my god"s and a few gasps from the other interns but Secretary Sudders immediately asked, "What high school?" with a sense of interest. I replied and her interview continued. But later on, she came back around to me, asking me questions about my interest in politics and my journey to the State House. She even remarked on how impressive it was that I was there at such a young age. Something that I felt ashamed of in the office, I suddenly realized should be a source of pride. While I may not understand what it's like to go out on a Wednesday night, I understand politics and I understand my job. And I'm learning that being the youngest in a room isn't a bad thing.