Professors are supposed to lecture.
But not to harangue.
A while ago, an educator spoke candidly—and vehemently—to me about what he feels my generation is doing wrong.
Pretty much everything.
Through his eyes, we are spoiled, entitled, indolent and apathetic. If through a freak mishap (or, more likely, through begging Mommy and Daddy to call in favors on our behalf), we were somehow able to obtain a job interview, we wouldn’t deign to show up for it. (This was just days after I commuted four hours round-trip to interview for an unpaid internship, only to discover my interviewer hadn’t felt it necessary to come into work that morning.) No, we think rewards should be handed to us; surely our mere being merits accolades.
I’m not naive. I’ve seen Jersey Shore (one and a half times, against my will) and Keeping Up With The Kardashians (or at least the commercials for it). I know those people exist.
But I don’t know those people.
The people I know, the people with whom I surround myself—they’re driven and persistent and brilliant and hard-working. In their writing, their musical talent, their commitment to their communities, their sheer persistence and ambition, their ideals and so much more, they all have something great to offer the world.
They inspire me.
And you know what? They should get accolades. Because they’ve earned them.
