I can always count on Richard (not his real name) to keep the conversation interesting. One of the more intriguing student assistants I've had in the past few years, this young man--often clad in a three-piece suit--has added much to my days. Richard actively pursues knowledge, cutting-edge fashion, excellent haircuts and the soft spot in other people. A complex, somewhat cynical young man, indeed.
As much as I enjoy my interactions with him, though, those conversations occasionally remind me that--despite his seemingly adult approach to all things human--he is still young and not-yet settled in his development.
Take our Friday conversation, for instance, which focused on my wish that journalistic institutions would move away from allowing anonymous comments in their online forums, and Richard's fervent belief that nicknames--at least in these digital instances--are as important as a legal identity is irrelevant.
The conversation raised my blood pressure--and volume--at certain points.
As flawed as I thought his point to be, I also realized that it was rooted in and supported by the daily and repeated experiences that Richard has as a 17-year-old American teenager. He has, after all, grown up in an environment with 24/7 access to media outlets, venues easily accessible by tools now owned by virtually everyone except, say, the occasional 51-year-old high-school teacher too cheap to put down the Benjamins for the latest technology.
It's no wonder that the digital universe is rife with 140-character quips about everything from Nelly's newest video to a classmate's unfortunate choice of Homecoming attire.
But, still, can't a middle-aged person lament the loss of those filters and limited audiences that kept such drivel in check? Is it unreasonable for me to wish that people were held accountable for their opinions and that those opinions had certain hoops through which they jumped before being expressed on a larger scale?
I believe that Richard and I have enough respect for each other that the sometimes contentious conversation we had Friday ultimately created more of a bridge than a wall between us. At least, that's what I'm hoping.
Certainly, for me, it was a reminder of the strange, new world today's teenagers know, a world in which they can be anyone, say anything, and access heaps of once-hidden information--an exhilarating and frightening reality, all at once.
And this stodgy, out-of-touch teacher hopes that Richard now considers the awesome power and responsibility--the incredible First-Amendment flexing of one's intellectual muscles--that come with owning one's words and still sharing them, despite everything.
This is, I suppose, the kind of thing that comes with the messiness of intergenerational conversations. And, still, I look forward to seeing Richard Monday, curious about what he'll bring to the intellectual table.
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