It’s Friday afternoon. I’m driving home in light traffic thanks to the new two-day-a-month furlough. It’s been a long day of dealing with the eager minds of our next generation, their energetic lust for life, their creative means of expression, and, of course, their total spoiled, slacker attitudes. I pull up to a red light and bide my time in line with other workers fortunate enough to still have jobs. Before me stands the Nameless Homeless guy, holding a sign his predecessor held for a day and left on the corner. It reads: “I’d rather be WORKING” in big, bold, Sharpie-drawn lettering. I take a closer look and realize his shoes aren’t that worn, his beard not that scruffy. The Sharpie is still stuck in his t-shirt. So the man isn’t the Nameless Homeless after all. He’s the lower middle class Everyman. And, according to his sign, which now appears he created himself, the last place he thought he’d be was on the corner, holding this cardboard, looking for more than a handout.
It’s a harsh reality many of us are facing in California. The state is dealing with the highest unemployment rate in 15 years. Budgets are being cut across the board, from public transit, health care, and my favorite - education. While an older, wiser generation would say they’ve seen this before (though they may not have thought they’d have to forego retirement and return to work as paid annuitants due to difficult times), a younger 20s, 30s and even 40s generation is still scrambling to recover income they once thought secure. But there is an even bigger problem, one I see every day in my (not so secure) position as a permanent substitute: the complete lack of appreciation, self-discipline and forethought from the privileged Generation-Y students. I teach at a performing and fine arts school and I know these students and their talents. I’ve seen their skills firsthand. Their exceptional ability to derive mature concepts from literature, tell deep, meaningful stories through theatre and music, create technically-advanced masterpieces on computer programs I had never even heard of until college. And with such tools at their fingertips, such opportunities to succeed and teach and contribute to society, I still witness, on the whole, the spoiled nature of a placated teen.