Inside you, boy,
There’s an old man sleepin’,
Dreamin’, waitin’ for his chance.
Inside you, girl,
There’s an old lady dozin’,
Wantin’ to show you a slower dance.
So keep on playin’,
Keep on runnin’,
Keep on jumpin’, ‘til the day
That those old folks
Down inside you
Wake up… and come out to play.
A dad tries to write about his son as he celebrates his 13th birthday. Just beautiful. (Via John Gruber – who is, indeed, correct: this is the nicest thing you’ll read today.)
So turning 13 and beyond was both terrible and wonderful but the fact remains that all these ideas recoiled when I tried to address them in relation to my son’s 13th birthday. And it’s only here, in this 7th paragraph (again, fuck you writer’s block), where my block begins to find its logic. It is precisely this unsaying that defines my son’s movement into teen life. This inability to speak about him, his resistance to being said, the fact of his emerging own life apart from our relation creates the substance of the block.
He’s stepping into the light of being the main character in a story that evades the reach of my narrative. He’s not my character to write anymore.
Hopefully, when people watch ‘I Am Eleven’, it will remind them of the influence, both positive and negative, we can have on kids and how we should be empowering them and encouraging them, because they are the future. Sounds like a cliche, but they are.
– Filmmaker Genevieve Bailey, discussing her upcoming documentary about the lives of a group of eleven-year-olds around the world.
The longer you live the funnier the sentence “You’re in BIG trouble!” becomes.
Determination, strength, independence – those were the qualities I worshiped in my favorite movie hero, the Lone Ranger. I went to the movies every Saturday, and sometimes I even snuck in through the fire escape when I didn’t have the money to buy a ticket. I felt just like the Lone Ranger the day I set off to ride my bike across the George Washington Bridge to New York City. Ten years old, I pedaled twenty miles down unfamiliar roads and busy streets, past neighbors and strangers, out into the unknown. Just like the Lone Ranger, I didn’t need help from anyone. It took me all day, but I found the way and did it myself.
You always hear stories about the 70s. The first time I got on set, the set dresser and costume people were just amazing. I literally put the clothes on and I felt like I was instantly there. I think it was a really cool time, because things were a lot simpler, you know? I kind of wish I could experience it more.
– Fourteen-year-old Ryan Lee, one of the stars of the new film "Super 8," responding to a question about its 1970s period setting.
It’s easy to forget that the small differences between generations are just that: small, especially when compared to the overwhelming commonalities across the ages. We all struggle to process the world, in much the same sorts of ways – even if the particularities of our quests differ.
That’s a good reminder from Henry Jenkins, especially when thinking about and discussing the youth of today:
First, the continuities across generations are much greater than the differences. Young people today listen to different bands and often acquire music through different platforms than teens a decade ago, yet one’s taste in music is still a key indicator of one’s personal and social identity for teens. Young people play different games on different game platforms yet young people acquire and display mastery through competitive play. Young people use different social networking platforms and communicate with their friends through text-messaging, yet forging a place for oneself within the social system of their schools remains a central goal of adolescence.
The rest of Jenkins’ (excellent) piece examines how adolescents are now growing up in a technology- and information-rich culture, and the incredible impact that has on empowering youth. It’s a great read, and one which leaves me thinking more and more that Jenkins’ work should be required reading before anyone is allowed to make a comment on “kids these days.”
Is It Really That Bad to Let Our Kids Do ‘Big Things’?
Just as one thirteen-year-old sets out to scale Mount Everest and another prepares to sail around the globe, one columnist at the London Times questions whether letting kids do ‘big things’ like this is actually the height of “parental indulgence” and neglect:
It does not seem intrusive to wonder about the Romeros’ and Dekkers’ exact understanding of the notion of parental responsibility. Moreover, we would point out that being young is not, in itself, an achievement.
Not to give the London Times the short shrift, but it is just unfathomable to me that someone could claim this point of view. How is having faith in kids and trusting in their capacities really some grievous form of parental irresponsibility? Nonetheless, the Times’ columnist apparently does honestly believe this, and very much defends it (in the most bitter and snarky of manners, if I might say). Unfortunately she’s not alone: you can also behold a whole raft of complaints in the column’s comments about the clearly “tantamount” physical risk and psychological harm these high-achieving children are surely now burdened by.
It all just leaves me puzzled and saddened, and ultimately left to question: Why are we so begrudging our children that sense of the awesome wonder and achievement possible in life? What do we actually do to them when we say that their dreams are too dangerous, too unrealistic, or even plain impossible? How can it be a bad thing to believe in them, and know along with them that anything is possible? I can’t help but believe that everyone needs a little adventure – most especially, I would say, kids. Going out bravely into the fog to meet the unknown head-on and tame it… why, that’s the very essence of what growing up is about.
