To the Class of 2018, Sorry About All This.

As faculty in higher education, I have what I believe to be a great privilege to attend annual commencement ceremonies for my graduating students. It makes me giddy, honestly. This was the week my colleagues and I got to march two-by-two, to the eerie drone and shrill of bagpipes, down the center aisle of a convention center before taking our places on stage while parents, grads and guests looked on. It’s one of those rare moments of pomp and circumstance that makes something seem really important. 

In my mind, I think the function of the fuss is an attempt to validate for those footing the education bill that we must have taken good care of their progeny, having imparted our wisdom to the graduates over which we’ve presided. It’s all so fancy, and the music so loud, we seem to be very smart, indeed. 

Surely, we must have the answers. From my perch on stage, I looked into the audience, then at my colleagues to the left and right and thought, ‘Answers? Most of us aren't even asking the right questions when it comes to these kids.’

Commencement is the one day where everyone seems to feel good—a celebration of hard work and achievement and smiles all around. But on the way home, I wound up thinking deeply about my now former students. After their limelight dims, whether it be that night, the next day, or the one after; eventually, a sobering reality sets in. It's felt as either a ripple or a seismic shock, depending on the kid, as each of them confront the harrowing question, “What now?”

In my recollection, this was one of my first real pangs of adulthood. And it sucked.

When I got home, I felt I needed to write something to my students to let them know I understood, to a degree, what they were going through. When Laura and I graduated in the ‘90s, the idea of becoming a sell-out to the man was tantamount to joining a leper colony for Gen Xers like me. Quickly, student loans and rent sorted my priorities for me, and instead, I got a job in advertising that would be the beginning of a 20-year career in selling everything, including my precious creativity. Today, selling-out is a joke to my students, who see no practical purpose in college other than to make themselves marketable enough to land a sweet job making tons of money (right away, they presume). They go to school to learn how to sell themselves instead, and truthfully, they don't really have a choice. Crushing student debt and the unquantifiable longing of consumer culture await them, and their paychecks, just around the corner.

I actually felt, on behalf of my generation and the one before me, we owed them an apology. And a warning. The circus we call present-day America has been dumped right in their laps, and if we didn't make it so, who did?  (Maybe the Russians, I guess.) The point is, they didn’t ask for any of it, but now they have to work it out somehow. 

So, I started...

Dear 2018 Grads,

Congratulations on your crowning academic achievement thus far. You did great out there today, and you've made all of us proud. Now, as you open yourself to the world of possibilities after school, please accept my sincere apologies. You’re about to enter a shit-show the scale of which your coddled spirit cannot comprehend, and I’m afraid all of the adults in your life are responsible, including me. 

You see, for the past two decades we’ve been building the framework to not only help foster your extreme self-focus, but to celebrate, exploit and then punish it as well. Your fragmented identity is a result of a lifetime of well-orchestrated media buys that have brainwashed you into looking toward brands, celebrities and shiny stuff to tell you what you’re worth.

And if you’re not happy with what you see in the mirror, it's because our marketing has trained you to accept 'perfection' as we've defined it by the things you'll need to buy to get that way. When that doesn't work (because it's designed not to), you’ll use the social tools we’ve created (and profited from greatly) for you to broadcast your existential crisis in a public forum for all to dissect. Then, we’ll try to sell you some more stuff to make you feel better about that, too. No wonder you're fed up with the way things are. I get it. I was disenchanted once, too.

But now is a time for action, and you need to beware.

Your inordinate sense of entitlement was imbued in you by a generation of approval-starved Baby Boomer parents destined to flip the scripts on their own emotionally bereft upbringing. But when you enter the workforce alongside them, this same generation will eviscerate you for thinking that way. Outside of your parents, your preciousness will not endear you to the Boomers. Lose it quick and you may have a shot.

You’ll need to watch out for Gen X, too. They really don’t appreciate your navel-gazing while actual work needs doing. They're exhausted from being sandwiched between you and the Boomers. They're actually waiting patiently for the Boomers to retire so they can implement the kinds of changes that could benefit all of us. In the meantime, you’re expected to roll up your sleeves and dig in, even if it’s not your job. Even if you don't get the immediate gratification or overt praise we've wired you to need in order to subsist.  Just try to step up and ask where you can help out, wherever needed, because the idea of working together toward a goal is key to winning their trust.

In your career, you can make your day-to-day easier if you focus on your role in building bridges of communication to these two groups. And although your generation has exceeded all others in acceptance of all facets of cultural diversity, you give the impression to many Gen Xers and Boomers that you’ve relegated them to the realm of ‘grandpa,’ offering little benefit to your own value system. This is a huge missed opportunity on your part, and shortsighted. By the time you ascend the ranks to running the show, you’ll wish you had their insights, whether or not you choose to abandon them in favor of doing things your fresh, new way. 

I don’t blame you for having a hard time learning to trust us; many of us have let you down all along. Many of today’s captains of industry have earned their fortunes by lying, cheating and ruining lives. I understand how hard it is for you to believe someone whose principles you cannot make out through layers of obfuscation and PR spinning. Your bullshit meter is quite finely tuned as a result, which will become your greatest generational superpower. But you need to try, because there are some good ones among our bunch. And despite the way things have turned out, many of us see the mess we've made of all of this. We want the best for you and everyone else, and we think you can take us there if you keep your focus on what really matters.

You'll work it out, eventually. You might be surprised by what you can muster of yourself, if you remember to keep your head about you and continue to show up. And remember, hit me up on LinkedIn if you ever need me.

Sincerely,  Jade