Our parents and our grandparents bemoaned their school years; having to walk miles in the snow, carrying 25-pound book bags.
Allow me to have my turn on the soapbox. (Wait. What the heck is a soapbox? Whatever.)
I remember having to do my homework with a No.2 pencil. Essays, scribbled on college-ruled paper, with a Webster’s dictionary by my side to look up words. Book reports were written after actually reading the book; I couldn’t just look up the synopsis online and cut-n-paste paragraphs together. Our version of cheating was Cliff Notes, which every teacher worth their salt (again, salt? Why salt?) had access to so as to be sure that their students had original thoughts in their reports.
I remember TYPING 101, and pounding out on the large, round keys the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog over and over for our daily lesson. We had to be able to change the ribbon on the typewriter without smearing the black ink all over ourselves.
I remember the controversy regarding using calculators in Math class. Our parents thought it was cheating, whereas we argued that we’d never do math in the real world without a calculator.
There were no cell phones, so when your car wouldn’t start, you had to hitch a ride from a stranger to a pay phone and bum a quarter to call someone to come and help. We couldn’t text our friends secret messages during class – we had to pass notes, and do it very surreptitiously so that the teacher wouldn’t confiscate it and read it out loud.
Shoot. I barely have any photos of high school because we didn’t have digital cameras.
Online dictionaries? Nuh-uh.
The answers are all at our fingertips now. We don’t look it up, we Google it.
What the heck will the kids of this generation bitch about when they’re my age? What will we have in twenty years that we won’t be able to live without?