For many adolescents, money disappears like weekends. Saturday the wallet fills, by Monday morning it feels empty. This cycle of spending and feeling regret ripples in frustration, but it also teaches us something critical: adolescence is not merely a period of wanting more, it is rather training. Choosing how to spend a few bills in our pocket builds callusing for the larger stage of adulthood, where the stakes or higher and the consequences extremely sharp.
I didn’t learn this lesson in school, but, rather through trial and error. Like many students, I craved more opportunity to spend—socializing with friends, gadgets, and just a little luxury here and there. At first instance I pleaded with my parents for a larger allowance, but that money evaporated just as rapidly as the previous amount. Then I entertained the idea of working part-time and realized it was not even useful, interesting, or taken seriously. The news on TV and on social media is filled with stories of young people manipulated into a dangerous “job” or an illegal contract. I contemplated the fact that chasing money on the fly could cost me more than it could give.
So, I turned to self-analysis and reflection. I have always been a military whiz kid since my childhood. I love to read books on strategy, subscribe to defend news and claim to be an expert on becoming a soldier. Cliché story, I decided to prioritize this love into tangible stuff: a blog. I started writing blog-entries recapping military news, editorializing it, and adding commentary to it. At first, it was a pretty lame blog and no one cared. However eventually, the readers came. And I also got some cents back from ad revenue, which was enough to purchase things I wanted. More importantly, blogging opened doors. I coordinated military band concerts, and I even interviewed generals once. It wasn’t about the money, it was about finding income that aligned with my interests. Income based on interests is less risky, more durable, and so much more rewarding than chasing.
Of course, the earning side is only half of it. The other side is what to do with what you have. I began with a simple principle; I would save 60% of my allowance, and spend 40%. At first, that ratio seemed severe, but discipline became liberating. With savings growing silently, I didn’t feel guilty spending the money I spent. The impulse to spend was more challenging; I tried a variety of rules: no spending days, sleeping on something I “wanted” a day before purchasing, and limiting myself on what I would buy. These rules seem trivial, but they taught me to resist the instant temptations of so many teenagers. Finance isn’t to eliminate your joy; it is to learn to care for it.
Eventually I found additional strategies to stretch my money. A simple accounting book revealed spending patterns I didn’t realize. A price-comparative habit was formed. Second-hand trading sites gave me access to a way to save and a way to resell items I didn’t need anymore. None of these opportunities were really about the money at all, as much as they were about cultivating mindsets: money is a resource to be stewarded, not wasted. Just as soldiers engage in small drills ahead of entering the battlefield, teenagers practice the mental aspects of financial stewardship with small amounts in anticipation of eventually being challenged with bigger numbers as adults.
But like any battlefield, the money landscape harbors hidden landmines. Many of these pseudo-money mindful experiences for teenagers are simply activities of perverse gambling. Only, this “gambling” takes the form of a game or online challenge and seems harmless until it consumes more than it offers back. Equally corrupt are schemes aimed squarely at the teen market: multi-level marketing as mock investment, phishing job offers and entitlement for cash loans when they ask to “borrow” your ID. Such booby traps not only create loss of finances; in many cases they create losses of reputations, trust and future careers. I have seen friends do “clipboard” arbs where the road ahead looks like a major leap forward—and then it leads backward in retreat. The best defense is awareness.
The takeaway I take away from my financial experience is this: financial activity for teenagers isn’t really about wallet size; it’s about habit shape. Every penny turned into a dollar allowance, each dollar earned in a profit activities or any dollar charged by impulse choice is simply a practice patched together sequentially and repetitively. When we budget the first thing we do and stick to it, we build resilience. When we resist impulse choice, we build patience. When we avoid a convenience shortcut, we build fidelity. The attributes matter outside of finance. They impact what kind of adults we eventually become. We become autonomous adults, thought starters and anticipatory adults.
My own relationship has been little about profits and much about discipline. These experiences taught me that not knowing if I can keep the income flow of money is safe, based on the benefit to yourself. Money taught me that limitations create loss of money for its freedom. Money avoidance taught me that a “no” answer at times is a higher risk. These experiences or lessons share the drills of financial life: repetitively through iterations of being unglamorous—every element of the drills are part of the preparation.
In the end, the money taught me is not pocket change but rather practice currency. We measure in each coin and bill, but what we are measuring and rehearsing is self-restraining order, anticipatory outcome and financial limits responsibility. Eventually bigger dollar earn will eventually be our income base, each being tested under complex choice. What won’t determine our next stage life if the absolute availability of income, but rather what are habits were practiced in amounts three dollars and every .50 count.
That’s why I feel that teenage finance is more of practice than wealth. Just as a solider starts practice at drill not at battle, teenagers start practice at allowance not salary. Each time we help make a whether to save, spend money or to turn down other outrageous offers is practice for that time ahead. And one day, we assemble our little soldiers on the path to adult march. Those habits accumulate to build the crown of the discerning adult both armor and discipline.
By: Seongjae Ahn
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