An Official Diagnosis
"I'm about to sound like an old man," Eli 21.11 said."It's overdue," I said.
Eli is an instructor at goalie camp this week, and he's teaching kids from 8-16 years of age. He's been in this camp for eleven years--five as a camper, and six as an instructor. He's the senior instructor now, and it's his swan song, because going away to Oxford means this is his last year.
"Kids have zero social skills now," he said. "It's so different from when I started instructing. In the locker room, they don't talk to each other. All they do is watch YouTube and TikTok videos on their phones. I don't think they even know how to interact anymore."
"That's why you didn't have a phone until sixth grade," I said. "And if I'd had my way, it would have been seventh grade."
"I thought it was ridiculous," he said, "but my kids won't get phones until they absolutely have to."
"Congratulations," I said. "You have Old Man Disorder (OMD)."
When he was a kid, I never looked at my phone when I was with Eli, and he didn't have one, so we talked constantly. We talked about everything, from every possible angle, and one of it would have happened if we'd been on our phones instead. Instead of digesting content, we were creating our own experience. I'd like to think it's one of the reasons Eli's so comfortable around everyone.
I don't know what happens to kids who have no social skills when they go to college, or try to get a job. I mean, I have no social skills, but I'm the life of the party compared to lots of young people nowadays.
Everyone being on their phones all the time makes us less unique individually, because we're all having the same experience.
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