I’m often asked whether this generation of young people, who were exposed to social media at an early age and whose social development was interrupted by COVID-19, will be OK in the long run. Perhaps people assume that because I’m a high school teacher, I know something about this.
I’m no social scientist, but for these and other reasons — the rise of authoritarianism, the prevalence of hatred and ignorance, the fact that we’re coming of age in an era of global warming — I worry about this generation. But I try to remain hopeful.
For me and many educators, this time is a source of hope. But some may see it differently. Graduations are almost always attended by the ghosts of kids who dropped out or met tragic ends. There are some graduates, sometimes many, whose immediate prospects are especially uncertain. Optimism, like idealism, is a means of survival for most educators. And so it is the kids who stand in line for their caps and gowns: unflinching, unstoppable.
This year, she feels even more optimistic after watching two of her students graduate from high school and college despite both being born with autism.
I watched my brother and parents struggle.
For me, this is personal. I have watched my brother struggle in a world that barely makes room for people with autism. I have watched my parents try desperately, largely on their own and with no support, to help Andy experience joy, meaning, and some kind of success. I have watched their hearts break as they watched Andy’s life slowly shrink in isolation.
Even after Congress made comprehensive access the law of the land (first through Title II regulations of the Americans with Disabilities Act and then through the United States Code requiring the least restrictive environment in special education), we were only able to improve my brother’s situation slightly before he died.
My mother never gave up on my brother, and because of her, I will never give up on my students.
Admittedly, my brother had cognitive disabilities in addition to his autism, but I can’t help but imagine how much better his life would have been if he had been born 20, 30, or even 40 years later.
I try not to think about “what ifs.” Having had the privilege of knowing and teaching Jimako Ezechukwu, who graduated with honors this month from high school, and Adelix Campos, who earned a degree in Political Science from California State University, Long Beach just three years after graduating from our high school, has made that easier.
I am so impressed with the accomplishments of these two young men, including the A’s that Adelix earned in my AP Literature class and Jimako earned in my Creative Writing and Film classes. Both are erudite, knowledgeable, expressive, imaginative and creative.
What impressed me equally was the natural inclusiveness shown by their peers.
I am proud to say that while both Jimako and Adelix suffered isolation and bullying early in their lives, this was not the case during their high school years. Our students were never told to be kind, patient, or friendly toward Adelix or Jimako, despite their own hardships, growing up in inner cities and many of them having immigrant parents who are hated by nearly half the country.
It seemed like a natural fit for them, and Adelix graduated from high school as part of a group of friends, well-liked and respected by nearly all of them, despite spending her final year of high school in distance learning due to COVID-19.
This year, Jimako was named “Party Lifer” and “Best Smile” in the yearbook, and was also voted Prom King.
Why I’m such a passionate advocate for this generation
Not long ago, things were different in our school. Students who stood out in any way were ridiculed and even endangered. While teachers worked hard to protect students on the autism spectrum, LGBTQ+ students nervously hid, sometimes being outed by their peers, and sometimes even by teachers who felt that their religious beliefs gave them the right to harass them in this way.
This kind of insensitivity and bigotry will no longer be tolerated in our schools and districts. In fact, there is no teacher left who wants to do anything other than support kids as they are.
A Black mother’s fear: My son is autistic. The school misinterprets him. I’m afraid the police will too.
I believe that adults are not the only ones responsible for this dramatic change among students. This is one of the reasons I am such a passionate advocate for this generation. I hear so many disparaging things about today’s kids: they’re overly sensitive, selfish, lazy. I say they’re no different from any other generation. I’ve been teaching kids for over 30 years.
I have always appreciated the kids I have the privilege of teaching and tried to see the good in them no matter what, and I have never been more proud of a group of kids than I am of the kids I see today.
You can legislate access and inclusion, but you can’t legislate acceptance and friendship.
We can set behavioral expectations for young people and enforce them, but we can’t make them feel it in their hearts.
And that’s why I’m so hopeful, hopeful, even confident, about this generation of young people: not only that they’re going to be OK in the long run, as every generation has been before them, but that they’re going to find a way to reverse the catastrophe that our generation has inflicted on them.
It’s also why, even as I’m optimistic that the young people I currently teach will reject the prejudices and ignorance we’ve allowed to persist for far too long, I feel sadness and disgust at the politicians and media organizations that twist inclusion into a culture war hoax and victimize and exploit children and families on the margins.
Perhaps Adelicks, with his political science degree, will one day be part of a Congress that truly works for all its constituents and prioritizes compassion over culture war.
Perhaps Jimaco can inspire compassion and decency through his art, and as a software engineer, help move technology away from the vulgarity of profit-driven big tech companies and realise its incredible potential in a more human way.
I hope to be alive to see the contributions of them and their peers.
Larry Strauss, a high school English teacher in South Los Angeles since 1992, is the author of more than 10 books, including “Students First and Other Lies: Straight Talk From a Veteran Teacher” and a new novel, “Light Man.”