Giving Up
For the last ten years I’ve devoted a couple of months every spring to scoring high school writing assessment essays for a major educational testing company. Despite the generally depressing level of written expression, there are both enduring and passing fascinations to be gleaned in this exposure to the concerns of youthful writers. In the first instance (enduring), I’ve found that every 14 year-old student I’ve encountered has command of two historical facts that long pre-date their existence, one easily explained, the other a mystery of communal knowledge: that Martin Luther King freed the slaves with his historic “I Have a Dream” speech, and that Michael Jordan, the greatest hoops star of all time, was cut from his high school basketball team.
The latter fact is particularly salient for the boys, who seize on this factoid to support their own hopeful fantasies of athletic stardom. Michael Jordan struggled and so do I, the reasoning goes, and look where he ended up. But the larger, and more encompassing narrative, which governs the fulfillment of any adolescent dream they can conceive of, is to “never give up.” Nothing is impossible; you have to believe in yourself; dreams can come true. Martin Luther King is as much proof of the maxim as Jordan, or Elon Musk, or Taylor Swift, or Bill Gates, or Christiano Ronaldo. Since all current celebrities, sports stars and billionaires were once kids, their primitive logic goes, any present kid may reasonably feel entitled to harbor fantasies about a similar blossoming.
I’ve been hearing about this philosophy of “never giving up” for as long as I have been reading these many thousands of essays. I can’t help wondering where all this largely unjustified confidence comes from. Is it mostly youthful bravado? Is it an artifact of the self-esteem culture of the last several decades? Is the younger generation fed this optimism from the cradle by hopeful parents? I don’t see how this unwarranted faith cannot lead to certain disappointment. And most unfortunate, there is a direct correlation between the more grandiose fantasies and the students least capable of realizing them. Every student should be encouraged to do their best, certainly, but not every one is equally able; that is an inconvenient fact of life.
There must surely be a need for a well-timed corrective to this unfounded optimism. I suggest a one-session assembly in the auditorium, perhaps between 10th and 11th grade, for students of a certain maturity, sort of like those drivers’ ed. Ohio State Highway Patrol carnage videos of yore, where youngsters still capable of being shocked will gather to receive one of life’s necessary lessons. I volunteer to be the guy that gets sent in to tell them, “Look, it’s time to give up on your dreams. They are not happening. There will not be any professional soccer career; no Arianna Grande-style fame; nor will you be living the fantasy life of a Tik-Tok millionaire.” Here, I’ll pause to let the unpalatable truth sink in, while dramatically surveying my yet uncomprehending audience.
“There will be plenty of jobs in retail, enough for everybody to have one; or, you might try the military — standards there are not nearly as strenuous as they used to be; and for those of you academically qualified — after obtaining a bullshit degree in gender studies or education — you may count on a position in one of the government’s bureaucracies, where mediocrity is often preferred.” This is the reality I can offer them.
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I don’t really want to be the ogre who squelches youthful ambition, yet that existential mantra, never give up, continues to persist. I understand, these kids are yet undented by reality. Since they still know nothing, and most achievements might technically still be possible, their pure potential has yet to be tested. But Michael Jordan? when they’ve not yet made the team? Or Taylor Swift, when they’ve never made any attempt to sing in public? These are purely youthful delusions, fostered by a desperate belief that regular life is to be avoided, and that an exceptional existence is possible.
More than anything, these fantasies suggest a vision of real life that is entirely mediated through the screen. YouTube, Snapchat, Instagram, Tik Tok — everything they know about the world is delivered remotely, which not only privileges these maximally curated representation of reality, but fosters unrealistic expectations of what one should hope for. I can tell that these are city kids. The basketball court, the concert stage, the production sets of the Kardashian-level influencers is the milieu that they aspire to. These are the urban models that are presented as desirable, and far more destructively, attainable.
I also hear, far less frequently, from the youngsters who are making preparations to show an animal at the livestock show, or the kid who was introduced to welding by his uncle, or the young girl inspired to be a veterinarian. These are more like the kids I’ve come to know since moving to the country six years ago. Their models are those who work with their hands; people who take real action in the real physical world. These young people are also on social media (how can it be avoided), but when they lift their eyes from the dancing pixels, they confront a world where real tasks are being accomplished by people they personally know.
The actual agricultural segment of rural America is smaller than it’s ever been, due to the ever expanding scale of farming and ranching operations. Except for extremely niche sectors like vineyards, orchards and organic growers, no rancher or farmer would ever consider getting by with less than 300 acres. The fuel, fertilizer and equipment costs alone mandate large properties. Still, the ethos of agriculture permeates the region, and no young person can fail to notice the constant movement of cattle, the semis loaded with bales of hay, and hundreds of giant pivot-irrigated fields.
Many, who will never bind themselves to the land as a career, will still participate in 4-H, FFA and related agricultural activities. And, when they search for careers, they will consider the examples presented to them by their relatives and peers: diesel mechanics, electric linemen, nurses, irrigation specialists, contractors, well-drillers, plumbers, electricians, and even, ranchers. These are all well-paying jobs, and largely disconnected from the educational-industrial complex that has ensnared so many urban youth, whose highest calling is a desk job in some bureaucracy. Country kids, in my opinion, are not any less able, they are only less interested in the abstract benefits of college, especially in recent years when the cost/benefit ratio has become so obviously negative.
For those that study demographic trends in higher education, it has long been the case that rural white kids are the least represented in college attendance. They aren’t being specifically recruited — no BIPOC diversity points are being awarded for their enrollment — nor are they likely to apply to colleges out of their immediate region. Instead, those who decide to attend, whether at the urging of parents or personal initiative, mostly settle on practical programs: nursing, education, forestry, agricultural science, and the like. Most don’t plan to leave their homes on a permanent basis, and consequently, decide to pursue careers that will benefit them in their home regions.
Historian Peter Turchin has developed the explanatory concept of the “overproduction of elites,” a plague which has afflicted civilizations dating back to the Romans, where positions of power in late-stage cultures have been far exceeded by those contending for them, leading to resentment, strife and civilizational decay. Given the collapsing educational standards of our day, where a BA is expected for even the most menial administrative job, and a Master’s Degree is the common currency for career advancement, it has become obvious that credentials matter a lot more than education, and those who have rejected the paper chase might find more satisfying and remunerative careers, while avoiding gargantuan student debts that guarantee nothing worth pursuing. In that respect, rural kids may have proven to be way ahead of the coming curve; they already haven’t been attending college in record numbers, and won’t miss it when the unsustainable system inevitably collapses.
