The title of this post comes from an episode of “The X-Files,” and it illustrates how some creative products perfectly fit the time in which they were created.
Howard Gardner (among others) would, I think, argue that this must be true. If a new product (or service, or theory, or what have you) is to be considered creative, it must be accepted by the domain into which it is introduced. Thus, by definition, a creative product fits its time.
All this is leading up to an observation about mobile phones.
When I was in college, communicating with my parents meant sending a letter (an actual, written-on-paper artifact), or calling on the telephone, either the one in my room or a pay phone. There was no texting, to email, no calling from wherever I was standing with the phone that’s in my pocket.
This is precisely how my parents wanted it.
I was raised in the time before helicopter parenting. My parents did not consider me and my siblings to be the center of the universe. The would not have wanted to text me, or receive texts from me, multiple times each day, even if the technology had been there.
Today, though: not only is the technology there, it is perfectly placed for the helicopter parents of our day. By trying to shield kids from all pain and disappointment, by rewarding them for showing up rather than for their accomplishments, by praising anything they did and not praising effort, by speaking for them even when they could speak for themselves, etc., we have set the stage for sending them off to college, too, with apron strings firmly attached.
One of my younger daughter’s six-year-old classmates proudly showed me her cell phone at school one morning. “It’s for emergencies,” she said. Given that kindergarteners are always in the care of an adult, it is difficult to conceive of an actual emergency that would require that phone. But, it’s not about the emergency, is it? It’s about access to the kid at every possible moment.
Every generation gets the technology they deserve. Enjoy.