How Technology Torments Our Kids

As a teen in Dumont, I had a crush on Ron B. and Rob D. I'd see them at school or at Mass at St. Mary's. I once called Rob, on our old black rotary phone by the stairs. I hung up when he answered. 

I went to the junior prom with Mark K. I liked him, but was shy. I heard later that he was dating a very pretty/very shapely Dumont High School majorette. I still remember how my heart--or the place where it had been--felt. I was walking with my friend Irene on Washington Avenue near the Palace Theater in Bergenfield one Saturday after the football game [Mark was in the band]. He drove by, alone, in his kelly green VW bug. He honked, waved and smiled. But he was on to the majorette, not me.   

I was wearing my favorite jeans--brown, and they fit well. But the feeling in my chest was intense. It called out to be reckoned with; I couldn't shrug it off or pretend it didn't matter. It was heavy and empty at once. I was sad and hurt and surprised and jolted/jilted. Why did he drive by and not stop? Why doesn't he like me? Aren't I good enough? Pretty enough?

This brings me to today. If I felt pain that harsh from a drive-by sighting or hearing a rumor about two people holding hands at a Saturday night party I hadn't been at [in fact, I never saw Mark and majorette together], how would I survive in today's cyber maze? Just imagine. I would be Facebook friends with all of them. And then I would have the pleasure of not just hearing about majorette, but seeing her on his Facebook page....see prom photos, party updates, relationship statuses, etc. etc. etc. I don't know if I could have stood it. If I turned over and over and over again a chance encounter while walking down the street, how could I have faced the in-your-faceness of Facebook without getting seriously depressed? The point is, I might see Ron B. around church or at the park but I didn't see him in photos with other girls. My crush was my crush, and I liked it that way.

And then there's Rebecca Sedwick, age 12, of Florida. She killed herself six weeks ago after being bullied by a 14-year-old girl who reportedly started harassing her online because Rebecca had previously dated the girl's boyfriend. Here's the New York Times article LINK. Rebecca's mom said the cyberbullying went on for a year or more and that Rebecca started cutting herself, and went into a psychiatric hospital.

It makes me sad. As a writer and reporter, I love the internet. Can research anything, reach out to even famous sources via email, send articles in at any time of the day or night. I love it also as a friend, sister, etc. I can keep in touch with our big Maine family and tell Sis what to bring for Thanksgiving [pumpkin pie, always, because she makes it best].

But I'm married, a mother, established in my career. Not searching for a soulmate. Flash back 35 years to the time I was 17. Change the past so that I have Facebook and a smart phone. I'm pretty sure I'd be tormented--by myself and by everyone else's constant updates. By being constantly plugged in. I would have had way less time and determination to run track, write articles, laugh with friends. How would it have changed the person I became?

My good friend recently wrote that her daughter's Facebook account has been disabled. How smart and daring. I mean that. I don't think I or my Figgy are ready for that--yet. But ever since I read that, I've been thinking about how much safer Fig's world might be. Nothing on the internet will ever be as simple as an old-fashioned crush, yet even that had the potential to rear up and stab you in the heart.

So where does that leave our hyper-connected kids today?

Good night.

TCOY

1. Private Benjamin.
2. Important reading, and nap.