Last semester, during a morning’s walk from the Chem building to Humanities between lectures, I plowed into two separate people in the span of about 50 yards and 10 seconds. Full frontal collisions both: no injuries, a little hurt pride. Two quick apologies and one little “shall-we-dance-before-I-figure-out-which-way-I-should-step-to-get-around-you” charade.
Shouldn’t have happened, but I wasn’t really paying attention, having come from a history lecture I was still turning over in my head. I noticed the victims of my carelessness probably were distracted, too, since both had headphones blaring into their heads.
It is difficult anymore to march down University Avenue, fight through the throng at Park, hike up Bascom or down State Street between classes without encountering someone with speakers stuffed deep into their ear canal.
Get up from lecture, plug in your electronic barrier to the world, and romp through the streets without breaking your brisk stride or blank forward stare. Unless, of course, your cell phone rings, vibrates, whatever.
I never got that little trend, where it came from, what the appeal is. Yes, I love music, and, yes, I carry a cell phone. But isn’t the time in between classes one of the few, maybe the only time of day when most of us have time to stare at the clouds, stare at other faces, stare at the sidewalk, just stare? And mull.
Very few people, students especially, mull in public … Somehow I think the world, or at least this campus, would be far less worse for wear if more people mulled. Seeing more shoulders hunched, brows shriveled and eyes squinted with hands shoved in coat pockets on Library Mall would be oddly refreshing. At least I’m being ignored for what looks like a good reason.
And another observation as long as I’m on my soapbox … why is it that when I walk down the street in the evening or morning when the sidewalks are sparse, will the passersby I come across not bother to acknowledge my existence, even when I take the initiative and acknowledge theirs? I suppose I could be that ugly, but the steamrolling look that comes my way while jogging past another dogged plodder on Lakeshore Path doesn’t do anything for my stamina. A smile might help me pick up the pace.
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A study released this week by the National Geographic Society cites a survey of youth aged 18-24 as perhaps the most uninformed generation in this country since the advent of radio.
One in 10 surveyed could not find their own country on a map of the world.
With an average of 23 correct answers on the multiple-choice survey, Americans received a collective “D” for their performance, reports Fox News.
According the survey, 13 percent of Americans surveyed could not locate Iraq on a map of the world. This, the same demographic that will be responsible for fighting an impending war in the region.
* * *
Back in high school, I took an Advanced Placement Government class my senior year. One of the prerequisites for “graduation” from the class was to pass a test in basic civics.
Some of the questions included: Name the number of seats in Congress. Name your two senators and your federal representative. How many amendments are included in the Bill of Rights? Name the last five presidents, etc. etc. It was graded pass/fail, and one could take it as many times as necessary to make the magic number of 10 wrong or less.
Out of a class of 30, less than half could name their state representative. Only a handful of students, who had just gone through an advanced class in the principles of American citizenship and civics, could name the speaker of the house. Much less than a majority could point out their congressman and his party, and a couple even failed to correctly identify the vice president of the United States.
* * *
Why do we do homework in front of the TV?
Why do most all of us believe in God but so few of us go to church?
Why do we vote but not read — that is, if we vote at all?
Why do we always need a distraction?
Pollsters and politicos wonder how to make this generation care. Maybe, they must think, if Jennifer Lopez is running for Senate against her ex-husband Ben Affleck. Then, perhaps the great civic institutions of our democracy will flourish. Perhaps they can make up ground where Osama bin Laden and Saddam Hussein left off.
We don’t “not care” because we’re disengaged. We’re not engaged, therefore we don’t care.
Most middle-aged teachers or dentists or line workers wouldn’t “care,” but the deductions on their paycheck or the road going through their backyard or their sons going off to war engage them.
So, what is to be done?
Well, you picked up a newspaper. Great start. You also just read my column … questionable, but well intentioned.
But I’d start by taking off the headphones.
Eric Sophomore ([email protected]) is a sophomore majoring in political science and history.
