This writing session was flowing as it usually does. I was typing out a film review in between bites of food, rewatching the movie trailer on YouTube, staring into space trying to determine exactly how to phrase a certain conglomeration of words in a way it would be coherent and reasoned. Then some teens began to enter the lobby. Then some more. And then even more. Three waves of youthful energy packed the place, roughly two dozen when all had walked through the doors. They all appeared to know each other, they bounced from one conversation to the next while waiting to place or receive their orders, a nebulous mass of human forms and boisterous voices.
Normally, customer traffic doesn't bother me. I can continue plucking away at my keyboard as if they're just ghosts in the room, present yet unseen. With this group of kids though, it was different. I stopped typing, looked away from my screen, and observed for the duration of their visit. Sure, they splintered off into small huddles like any other group of teenagers would do. However, they never remained in one conversation for long. They bounced around from one cluster to another. All smiling, happy, eager, and connecting with each other. I watched in wonder.
(like this but less creepy)
Yet they were different than the crew from my good old days. I was impressed by how they presented themselves. None wore anything flashy or revealing. None dressed grungy or slobby. Not over the top formal wear like they were on their way to a school dance, just smart and semi-professional in appearance. Each spoke with polite language. They were goofy and boisterous, yet they didn’t use any profanity, insults, or dirty jokes. They were all respectful toward each other and the other customers in the dining area. When they left, it was like they were never there. These teens were just like the kids I grew up with, only better. Their visit filled me with a sense of hope.
This transpired in the weeks after the shooting at MSDHS, before the nation-wide school walkouts and March For Our Lives protests. The kids from Parkland were constant faces on news channels, headlines both praised and criticized them. At the time, I wanted to write something about how great it was to see youth engaged in the political process. Whether you agreed with them, whether they’re right or wrong, whether they succeed or fail is irrelevant. We need passionate and energetic fresh faces involved with political discourse because the decisions our government makes today will affect them and their peers more than it will impact me and my generation.
After the shooting, I avoided writing about the topic. I've talked about gun control before and I probably will again but that wasn't the blog post I wanted to write. Instead I wanted to compose something encouraging those students challenging the adult world, political process, and the way we think about American rights. I was dismayed at the alleged grownups in the room who acted with a maturity level more fitting for grade school playgrounds. Yet I couldn't do it. I tried. There are four different drafts I deleted after I couldn't figure out how to say what I wanted to say in the way I wanted to say it.
I know what it was like to be young and ambitious and inspired and facing nothing but a wall of condescending elders. I felt like I had words for these kids that needed to be said. I wanted to let them know that they would be mocked and ridiculed for their actions. I wanted them to know how people will go to absurd lengths to defend their sacred cows, and when it comes to Murica, there's no greater sacred cow than the Second Amendment. I wanted to tell them the same thing I tell my son about bullies, their words and actions speak more about them than you.
Much of what I wanted to write about was obvious, the smear campaigns and ad hominem attacks were prominent in conservative media. I saw the fake news stories and photoshopped memes on Facebook. Everywhere I looked, I saw a grumpy old man complaining these kids were too young to have an opinion. Every news channel had a pundit claiming these kids were paid actors. I didn't need to warn them what was already happening was going to happen.
There's more I wanted to say. I wanted to let them know a day is coming when they'd look back and wish they had done things differently and it's OK to have those kinds of regrets. I wanted them to know they would make mistakes and they shouldn't let those errors derail them. I wanted to warn them of the danger of overnight celebrity. Historically speaking, youth and fame are not a good combination. The rush of everyone paying attention to you can be addictive. The lure of the spotlight is powerful and can be taken away as fast as it was obtained. However, I've never been famous; I don't have any legitimate advice from experience.
I hope they have strong emotional support. I hope they don't take these days for granted. I hope they remain engaged and do great things with their lives, yet I also hope they do the things kids their age typically do: attend sporting events and concerts, compete in talent shows, go to prom, graduate, take summer road trips, go camping, register to vote, enlist in the military, apply for scholarships and enroll in a university or trade school, get a degree, fall in love, fall out of love, start a career.
At the end of my high school days, the private Christian college I wanted to attend required all prospective students to memorize a Bible verse from 1st Timothy: "Don't let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith, and in purity." I wanted to pass on the wisdom in this scripture to these kids leading the Never Again movement. It doesn't matter if they follow Jesus or not, if they're religious, spiritual, or none of the above. There is power in embracing your youth. Any time a young person finds themselves in a leadership role, older generations will attempt to discredit or discourage them. I wanted to tell these kids to not allow their elders to destroy them, to stand strong, to set an example for their elders so loud and noble and pure that it can't be ignored.
That is what I wanted to write, and I just couldn't do it. Then I witnessed local kids in action. I've spent a lot of time with teenagers as a youth leader, yet those interactions were all in controlled and supervised environments of church youth groups and summer camps. My oldest is now a teenager, yet I don’t see him when he's not around adults like me or teachers or youth pastors. My time at McDonald's was like watching kids in the wild, observing them in their natural habitat. No chaperone. No responsible adult monitoring. No grownups telling them what they can or can't do. Only a herd of teenagers free to do whatever they want and act upon their own desires. I couldn't look away and I was in awe. These were not the Tide Pod eating, Logan Paul wannabe, participation trophy receiving idiot youth my conservative friends warned me about.
Whitney Houston once sang, " I believe the children are our future." On a Tuesday night in late February, I was given a glimpse into days yet to come; someday soon they will be our elected leaders and corporate CEOs. Bring it on. Give them a platform and a microphone. Let them lead. Let them protest. Agree with them, disagree with them. Debate them. Educate them and learn from them. If these kids are our future, then the future is very bright.
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