While I was tutoring some third-graders last week, one of them asked me if I was a "man." I don't know, I said, and asked them what they thought. The answers varied from "Well, you're really tall" to "You have to shave every day" to "You could beat up my dad." But all ended with the conclusion that yes, I was a man.

That is probably the response I should have expected from eight-year-olds, but it really made me take stock and try to answer the question for myself.

An excerpt from Sherwood Anderson's classic Winesburg, Ohio popped into my head then: "There is a time in the life of every boy when he for the first time takes the backward view of life. Perhaps that is the moment when he crosses the line into manhood."

Am I a man? Anyone who knows me would probably say that I am not. And they would be right. I don't have the maturity yet to fully consider myself an adult. Nor do I expect myself to have that maturity, having led a sheltered life thus far. Whatever your experiences at Harvard are, don't kid yourself: Harvard is not the real world and, thus, is a hard place to develop the perspective adulthood requires.

But our time at Harvard brings us closer to adulthood. Every day, we are forced to make decisions that influence the path our lives will take. Be it choosing classes, deciding which extracurricular activities to pour our hearts into, or evaluating whether or not a certain dining hall meal is edible, we are constantly making choices. Resolving questions such as these for ourselves leads to a higher level of maturity and propels us toward adulthood, toward an existence as freely-choosing individuals.

College is a step along the journey to adulthood, but I don't think I will reach the end of that progression until after I leave this place. Maybe then I'll be able to make the "big" decision of what I really want to do with my life.

For now, though, I am making the little decisions about what's important in my immediate life. And that's a start. For now, I am happy to remain in limbo, not yet existing fully in the adult world, nor as a member of the fun-filled world of children.