The other day, one of my repeate offenders approached me about a possible paper topic. He wanted to write his exploratory essay on, "Why are teens so ungrateful?" Despite the fact this sounds more like a blog post title than an academic essay, I tried to let the kid down gently.
"What are you using for sources?" I asked, patientlly.
"I'm thinking about interviewing five parents about how their kids are ungrateful," he replied, a day after our research seminar on finding academic sources.
Geeze.
In a classic (student's name deleted) move, this kid was, once again, trying to get away with a rant for a paper. I'm guessing at least five of the required six pages would contain, verbatum, the lectures that his mother had given him about ingratitute. But despite this poor attempt, he inspired me to blob. (student's name deleted), if you're reading this, your topic was, literally, "inspirational." It was not, unfortunately, academic. This explains the "D."
However, I would have to agree that ingratitude is a trend I witness among not just teens, but almost everyone I encounter. The students I teach strut into meetings 20 minutes late and leave (true story) if I'm 3 minutes late. They want "A's" for showing up and points for trying. When reading their self-evaluations, they often tell me that things like assigning more than one thing at a time and making them take notes are "keeping them from learning;" I shouldn't do those things. In fact, they would learn much better if we just watched movies all day. And then they should all get "A's" and high paying jobs.
Given the fact that most of my students are around 18-years-old, this is understandable. But I've found that the attitude extends further than the classroom. As me to count the number of times I've heard a customer screaming at a cahsier because she didn't get the right change or the restaurant was sold out of ham sandwiches. Instead of saying "Thank You" for opening a door in a shopping mall, people cut in front of you when you're waiting to check out. And if you let someone in your lane on the highway, it's likely that they'll be shining their high beams to try to get you to move faster in the next five minutes.
Yesterday, during Thanksgiving, I got a text from one of my friends: "Happy American Holiday." Given the kind of recognition that Thanskgiving gets, I'd say this is about accurate. It's not about giving thanks or being grateful, it's about what happens the next day--the day when good, patriotic citizens pay homage to commericalism by purchasing things that they can't afford to impress other people instead of showing them that they love them through heartfelt expression. This year, people couldn't even wait for Friday, so the stores were open Thursday for those who wanted to forget about thanking and get to buying. The more stuff I have, the better I feel, the more I can forget about being grateful for what I have and figuring out what's important in my life.
This Friday, I participated in "Buy Nothing Day," and I failed. My daughter peed her pants, and I had to purchase a pair of sweats--at Wal-Mart of all places. Once that ship had sailed I figured I had better pick up a case of diet pepsi and a pack of batteries. My $11.96 didn't feel much like a betrayal because I didn't give in. You see, I try to observe Buy Nothing Day everyday. I buy things used, and I try not to let what I have define me. But am I grateful? In some ways, I am. But one thing that I realized was the fact that I treat jobs, recognition, and grades a lot like some people treat stuff. I've focused so much on not selling out to corporate America that maybe I've forgotten what I have sold out to, when the goal, really, was not to sell out to anything.
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