Note: This is my response to an article my mother emailed me from the NYTimes. Here's the link.
Mr. Brooks:
What a dreary, clinical portrait you conjure of the world in which I am about to enter. Two weeks ago, I received my BFA in Theatre; I have essentially set myself up for the least lucrative or "sensible" career available and I couldn't be more excited. I have waited two decades to throw myself into the maelstrom of adulthood and have it promptly and repeatedly kick my entitled behind; I am ecstatic. You say every sensible middle aged person would kill to go back to being 22--this may be the case. (Anytime I bemoan some menial college woe, my mother sings "I Wish I Could Go Back to College" from Avenue Q loudly and pointedly.) Given your tsk-tsk condescension for the typical 20-something wide-eyed idealism and "selfishness," I can't imagine what you find appealing about returning to the age of seemingly endless opportunity and exploration.
I think a return to college would provide quite a shock to the baby boomers. For my mother, "going to college" meant leaving suburban Texas for the broader, more diverse excitement of a college campus. For me, "going to college" entailed narrowing my metropolitan world to a bizarre, false reality of trust-fund babies and largely bored professors. Has college prepared me for life? Possibly, but certainly not in the ways my tuition-paying parents envisioned. My college experience has most significantly taught me that passion fuels progress. What did I learn from my tenured professors who were too jaded to challenge their pupils? That if I ever find life that dull, I'm doing a disservice to everyone around me and I need a change of career immediately. It is my suspicion that these professors became professors because they followed your ideology of doing the "sensible" thing. Unfortunately, their "sensibility" has squandered all sensitivity towards what education should be. The problem with eliminating passion from one's career is that it hinders not only what is produced but also the progress of those collaborating.
The generation that has raised us preaches theology that hasn't even necessarily led them to successful and fulfilling lives. Why follow the "sensible" or expected path if it hasn't fulfilled our elders? Selfishness is innate (and is often a means to a collectively positive end) and that is no more apparent than in a newly independent college graduate. I'm mostly confused about where you suppose "doing the expected thing" will get us. Why not pursue life as an artist (like yourself) or librarian or elephant trainer? Someone has to do these things; it may as well be someone who loves doing them. I recently had a childhood friend pass away in the tornado in Tuscaloosa; this has been a monumental reminder that we 20-somethings are not as invincible as we think we are. Our life could very well end as abruptly anyone else's. Why not enjoy the time we have? Why not enjoy the minimal responsibility we carry at the start of adulthood--without spouses or children or the need to take care of our elders. Why not travel? Why not experience the world? Why not share art? I know dozens of people in my parents' generation who did the right and expected thing and are no happier for it. A steady, selfless job (is there such a thing?) will not stop the world from throwing curveballs and catastrophes.
You say successful young people are summoned by problems. I am called by a solution; does that make my life less meaningful? Twyla Tharp said, "Art is the only way to run away without leaving home." Art often provides an elucidating or illuminating lens through which one may appreciate or learn about life. Most importantly, however, art provides an escape. And in a time such as ours, couldn't we all use some clarity and a chance to escape?
I, too, love reading biographies of people far more impressive than I, but what you and I find impressive seems to be diametrically different. I admire people who pursue what they love--oftentimes, this does indeed mean a more arduous life. Choosing passion over practicality is scarier and much more difficult than doing the expected thing. Do I admire excellence first? Yes. But excellence stems from passion, passion from pleasure, and pleasure from happiness.
It seems to me, Mr. Brooks, that you argue for a passionless, scared generation of young adults. Despite your advice, I anticipate working as hard as possible to ensure that is not the case. I choose passion, and I think it will be both in my best interest and to the benefit of others with whom I may share that passion that I do so.
