— Hello. I’ve arrived from the planet Teenager-Star. On our planet, there are only children and adults. Exactly three revolutions around our sun — and all children instantly become adults.
But we have legends that, hundreds of thousands of years ago, it wasn’t always like this. A special transitional species once lived on our planet — something between child and adult. They were so unique that our entire planet was named after them. They were the first to explore space, long, long ago. But now, they’re gone.
That’s why I was sent to Earth on an ethnographic mission — to learn everything about this lost stage of being.
My first question is: What is a teenager?
— Oh, that’s a great question. Teenagers aren’t a separate kind of human — they’re the most fascinating phase of human life. You won’t believe it, but every adult on Earth was once not only a child, but a teenager. The trouble is, most of them don’t remember it.
— You speak in images. Forgive me, but we aliens prefer more precise definitions.
— I understand. A teenager is a person whose adult desires are already awakening — but who still lacks adult experience. They begin to feel themselves as separate beings, but don’t yet know who they are. They ask: “Who am I, if I’m not just someone’s son, student, or team member?”
— That sounds like a system failure.
— It often feels like one — especially to parents. But really, it’s a stage of becoming. Imagine a cocoon that isn’t simply turning into a butterfly — it must choose what kind of being it wants to become. And it only has a few years to decide. On our planet, we have people who help with that. I’m one of them.
— Why did you choose to work with teenagers?
— Because that’s the moment when change is still possible. A child is shaped. An adult is rigid. But a teenager is like molten metal — full of inner fire, trying to forge a unique shape, refusing to fit into someone else’s mold. They burn others and freeze from the coldness of being misunderstood.
— What’s the hardest part of working with them?
— Not lying. Because they sense lies instantly. If you say, “Do it because I said so” — you’ve already lost. You can’t order them — but you can explain. Can’t force — but you can inspire. Can’t impose — but you can listen.
— Teenagers listen?
— If they feel respected. They won’t tolerate being talked down to. But if you stand beside them — they open up. Sometimes for just a few seconds. But those seconds are worth more than gold.
— You speak with tenderness.
— Yes. Because I believe: if a teenager has been truly understood even once — they won’t get lost.
— You’re sure?
— I’m sure. I’ve been doing this for thirty years. You know how I explain to teenagers who they are? I say: You are a house. You have a foundation — your nature. You have walls — your upbringing. And a roof — that’s what you build yourself.
Don’t be proud of the foundation — you didn’t choose it. Don’t cling to the walls — they may be crooked. Build your roof. The one you want. Just don’t break yourself, and don’t sever your connection to the other houses around you.
— That’s poetic. On our planet, someone like you would become a national leader.
— On ours, we often just become tired, underpaid teachers… but still happy. Because we know — our words stayed with someone.
— Thank you for your story. I will report it to the Council.
— Please do. And tell them: if teenagers ever appear on your planet — take care of them. They’re spiky, noisy, rebellious… but they are the beginning of something miraculous.
— I’ll remember that. Thank you, Earth Teacher.
— If you have more questions, Star Guest — you know where to find me.!
