The Rise of Technology; The Fall of Authority

There comes a time when confidence evolves into self-satisfaction, which evolves into smugness, which evolves into downright hubris.

I've written about hubris before (with regard to airport security and pierced ears). It's a concept that has stayed with me since Mr. Zarker's Greek and Roman Comedy course back at Tufts umpteen years ago. 

(Yes, "umpteen" is a real word. As is "hubris.") 

Hubris is what happens when someone is so boastful, so sure of his or her superiority, that they momentarily forget that they are a mere mortal. This, naturally, pisses off the gods and our hero or heroine comes to a rather bad end. Whether she knew the term or not, my Scottish grandmother believed in hubris. "Pride goeth before a fall, Jimmy," she warned my father when he got into art school, when he got his first Broadway show. Luckily, my dad wasn't quite so superstitious. Or Greek. (Or Catholic.)

Well, I've been guilty of some hubris of my own with regard to monitoring my teen daughter's use of technology. We were fairly early adopters (my daughter would disagree) and fairly generous with the devices (again, my daughter would disagree). She got her first iPhone when she turned 13 at the beginning of middle school. As with any acquisition of something she was desperate to have, there was peace. She learned that beloved little device inside and out. It wasn't long before the grownups were going to her for tech support.

Nevertheless, we had rules. Her MacBook (my old laptop from work, reconditioned for her) already had parental controls on it. She had a prescribed, limited number of hours per day (slightly more on weekends) and the thing shut off — snap! — at 8:00 pm each night. Any additional screen time required a password that I, and I alone, knew.

We thought we could manage the iPhone in a similar — if more analog — way. The rule was: all phones (my husband's and mine, as well as hers) were plugged in and powered up in the kitchen. No phones in bedrooms overnight. And, for the first couple of years, we enforced the same 8:00 pm curfew on the iPhone. This is where my own hubris comes in.

Other mothers would wring their hands over their daughters' non-stop texting. ("Oh, we set rules early on," I'd brag. "We have parental controls. We have device curfews." Yada yada yada. Hubris, hubris, hubris.) Then ...

High school!

Everything changed. Suddenly, my daughter needed Internet access late into the night. What ever happened to textbooks and mimeographed handouts? With all due respect to saving the rainforest, it was a lot easier to parent before homework went digital.

Okay, so she needs her laptop. I can still be strict about the phone right? Wrong! You see, today's "smart" phones make yesterday's rules seem downright "dumb." Here are all the reasons why she needs ("neeeeeeeeds") her iPhone on those late homework nights:

• Her phone is now her stereo. Good-bye CDs. It's all about iTunes and streaming digital radio. And, bien sûr, she simply must have her music to study.

• Her phone is now her camera. This is germane because she often takes pictures of pages from her ridiculously heavy textbooks rather than lug those same books home.

• Her phone is how she communicates with classmates when they have questions about assignments or are working on a team project. They group text, the teen equivalent of a conference call or (God forbid) an actual live get-together.

And, last but not least, her phone is an Internet browser. If I suggest that she use the laptop for research rather than the phone, she rolls her eyes to say "You don't get it." Apparently I don't.

The thing is, even if I enforced the no-phone rule and allowed her to use the laptop, we would be in the same pickle. Her laptop is an Internet browser, of course. But, it's also a portal to Facebook and all her other social media. With Skype and LiveChat, it's also a phone. Basically, the promise of convergence that helped create (and eventually pop) the dot com bubble is alive and well in my daughter's bedroom. This creates much convenience for the teens and much confusion (and consternation) for the parents.

So the question is ... the next time I need her to "get to bed already," do I call her? Text her? Skype her? Post it on her Facebook wall? 

Nah. I'm an analog girl; I'll just yell up the stairs.

If you enjoyed this post, order a copy of my new book Lovin' the Alien at www.lovinthealien.com.

Independence Day

The 4th of July. Independence.

These days, we all bemoan that our children grow up too fast. Whether we're talking about consumption of digital technology or sexification by way of slutty clothes and push-up bras for the underaged. And, it's not just all the stuff. Our offspring more often than not call the shots for the entire household.

Just like consumers have taken over marketing, kids seem to have taken over their families.

As a focus group of one, I spend an inordinate amount of my time doing what my teenage daughter wants to do, driving where she needs to go, picking up whatever she's missing for her school projects or equine competitions. Every time I catch myself complaining, I remind myself that I only have one. Most families we know juggle two, three and more. Their activity level boggles the mind. Yes, my teen has an expensive and time-consuming extracurricular. But, what about our friends who have a daughter who goes into Boston for dance five days a week, a son whose hockey team has ice time at 4 am, and a third child with a private pitching coach working toward a college baseball scholarship?

Dancing and hockey and baseball ... oh my! I'm reminded of my all-time favorite Dunkin' Donuts ad.

It's not just the stuff or the running around. Kids assume that they have an equal say in decisions. Whatever happened to children being "seen and not heard?" Whatever happened to the family meetings in the Brady household? (Did you ever notice that the kids all call Mike "sir?" Ha. In what alternate universe would that happen now?) Dreaming of my utopian parental paradise (y'know back when I wasn't yet a parent), I pledged that I would never say "Because I said so!" Well, guess what? I do say it. And, guess what? It doesn't work. Not. One. Bit.

So with these independent-minded young people asserting their equality and autonomy all around us, I'm often surprised by how dependent they are as they get older. I couldn't wait to go away to college and be separate, be independent. 

From my dorm at Tufts University, I called home once a week, on Sundays when the long distance rates were cheaper. But, it wasn't just to save money. I was eagerly living my own life for the first time. A weekly update was sufficient. Today, kids Skype and videochat home all the time. They text and send pictures. Parents get real-time information about real-time issues. (By the time Sundays came around, a million years ago when I was in school, I had already dealt with and resolved mine.)

As an observer, I really think there's much too much connection. Cut the cord already, folks! But, as a mother, I really (really really) understand the allure. 

My daughter's up in Vermont this week with her horse at an intensive equestrian clinic. Despite being warned that there was no mobile signal available, we've managed to communicate every day. She has cell service at the home where she's staying, and the facility where she's training has a youth center with WiFi.

So, I'm torn.

Would this be a more valuable experience if she and I weren't in touch for ten days. Probably. Would it be harder for me to get through those ten days though? 

Definitely!