I didn’t learn inflation from a chart. I learned it standing in a grocery aisle, holding the same box of cereal I always buy, wondering why it suddenly felt like a luxury.

As an international student, I don’t have a school cafeteria to depend on. I buy my own food, plan my own meals and track my spending whether I mean to or not. At first, grocery shopping felt like independence. Now, it feels like economics. Prices don’t rise all at once. They shrink quietly — smaller packaging, thinner bread, fewer slices. The brands stay the same. What changes is how long they last.

Adults talk about inflation through interest rates and policy decisions. I experience it through choices. Should I switch to the store brand? Is fresh fruit still worth it this week? It isn’t a debate about markets. It’s a question about dinner. I’ve noticed that inflation doesn’t make everything expensive at once. It makes everything uncertain. When milk costs more, I hesitate. When eggs go up, I recalculate. Eventually, it isn’t about what I want. It’s about what I can justify. That hesitation — that pause before putting something in the cart — is where I meet the economy.

Some assume teenagers are disconnected from financial reality. Maybe that was true once. But my generation doesn’t need lectures on purchasing power. We see it on receipts. We don’t use budget spreadsheets, but we know which items we now avoid. Before we ever earn a paycheck, we’re already adjusting. One day, I’ll study economics formally. For now, I’m studying aisle by aisle. And while I may forget the exact price of milk, I won’t forget the first time I put it back.