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Cell Phones

The Source

The after-school ritual never varied. I’d go over to Stauffer’s house and Mrs. Stauffer would ask, “Kenny, what time do you need to be home?” I’d tell her the appointed hour that my own mother had given me for supper, then I’d go jump off the Stauffer’s back porch playing Superman until Mrs. S would shout, “Kenny! It’s time to go!” Mrs. Stauffer was my cell phone. My current teaching assignments put me in daily touch with teens from Routt, Triopia, Franklin, and JHS, and although I’m more than a bit prejudiced, I think they’re some of the sharpest kids in the area… despite the fact that they’re a lot dumber than me. By the time I was in Jr. High I knew how to tell time. I wore a watch. Thanks to cell phones today’s teens have little idea of the concept of time and wearing a watch is totally uncool. They have no need to remember when to be where. Either their mother or their friend will call to remind them they’re late. They can brag all they want about their ability to hook up an I-Pod or download a game. I can tell time. I’m smarter. And of course what they don’t realize is that in a few years the generation who can actually tell time will be deceased and they’ll have no one to rely upon. I’m lots smarter. I’m also more trustworthy. A quite wonderful and mature young man came to my house one day this week to work on a piece of music. In the two hours he was sitting in my living room he received…and I don’t need to exaggerate… 14 text messages from his girlfriend asking him where he was. Arenzville is blessed to be situated in a dark hole of communications. You can’t use a cell phone to talk but you can sometimes receive and send texts…depending on the hour of day, weather conditions, and church attendance (cell phone reception is best during church…I think God is wired.) Fourteen times his thigh began to vibrate. Thinking first that he’d contracted some sort of palsy, I inquired as to the way his leg would bounce up and down every few minutes. “No, it’s her,” he said. “She has to know where I am and what I’m doing.” I told him that they used to call that neurotic possessive stalking. He said, “No, she’s just a girl.” “You mean she doesn’t trust you?” I asked. “I guess not. She gets sort of insecure, I guess.” Oh. Another point up on the generational scoreboard. My age group is not only smarter but we can trust each other. But I couldn’t let it rest. I was curious. “You know,” I said, “When they let prisoners out early they put those ankle bands of them so the police will know when they’ve left the house.” “Yeah,” he said, “I guess that’s what this is” as he fingered his cell. “I left my cell phone at school last night. She thought I’d broken up with her when I didn’t text back.” The third score of the night! We’re smarter, more trustworthy and free! I recently hosted a vanload of my talented actors to a show at Sangamon auditorium. For ninety minutes they had to sit with cell phones turned off. Once the intermission lights came on they became junkies desperate for a fix. The cell phones came as they dashed into the foyer to see what life-changing events they’d missed. On the way home each student in my van received text messages…from their mothers! The mothers knew where they were going, they had a rough idea of how long the show would last, and they knew they were with me…an aging teacher who’s only after-show activities are getting to bed as soon as possible, yet they had to call to see if their children still existed. Score Four for the old guys! We’re smarter, more trustworthy, freer, and we know we exist without outside confirmation! And with some humility I must add a final caveat to this scorecard of age. Nearly all of my students have pictures of themselves stored into the giga-banks of their cell phones. Just ask them. Do they take pictures of the Eiffel Tower or Grand Canyon? Nope, they constantly snap shots of themselves. Then they go home and a post the pix on their Facebook page to prove that they did something, went somewhere, or were seen with somebody. They seem to need constant affirmation of how they look. A perfect score of Five! I’m smarter, more trustworthy, more free, I know I exist and dog-gone it….I’m cuter!