The route to independence for pre-teen boys in the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s was paved with paper.

Newspapers.

Before there was a digital, instant-access-age, twice daily local newspapers were hand delivered to America’s door-steps by an army of young boys, over a million strong at its zenith.  Nearly half of all of the nation’s newspapers were handled by these young entrepreneurs and I was one of them.  Sadly, today that number has dropped to near zero.

Commitment, being on time, managing your time, honesty, accuracy, math skills,-adding-subtracting, managing money, counting change, managing credit, marketing, customer-relations, communication, handling complaints, paper-work, banking, coping with weather, delays, illness, fitness all of this and more was the responsibility of the newly minted pre-teen business owner.  As my customers came to know me, I mowed their lawns in the summer and shoveled snow from their sidewalks and driveways in the winter.

How would that reality affect today’s pre-teens and teens?

I attended one of the highest ranked business schools in the country and I learned far more about the realities of enterprise and life managing my paper route as a 12-year-old than I did at the university.  I’m still an entrepreneur and I continue to use those old, familiar lessons every day; street-reality forged by experience.  I was up-sell-marketing before I knew it was a business term.

The real tragedy here is that right now, today, we have done nothing to replace that kind of invaluable experience for our young people.  There is a price to be paid for ignoring this void and if you can pry the cell phones and ear-buds off today’s teens and pre-teens, that blind spot we are ignoring becomes abundantly obvious by their blank stares and struggle to effectively communicate.

My “graduation” from the paper-route was to the local gas station, a natural transition in those days because customers did not pump their own gas, attendants did.  Just shy of 16 and anxious to get my license, I was saving to trade my bicycle for a motorcycle and eventually a car.  A service station seemed like the place to learn more about all things mechanical.  Pumping gas for customers led to learning how to check the oil, filling or changing a tire, even changing the oil, or spark plugs.  Over time, even more methods of mechanical know-how became a puzzle I solved that granted me access to remedies and possibilities I previously knew nothing about and could not otherwise afford.  Knowledge becomes power when you can solve your own mechanical problems and at the same time save money and gain independence.  It was liberating, empowering and it gave me confidence.  It was a way to advance one more rung on life’s ladder and gain my independence.  I could transform a junk car into something useable and do it on a small budget and when it broke, I could fix it.

Self-service gas pumping, grocery scanning and a host of other jobs previously manned by an army of school-aged kids are now extinct in the age of automation.  Again, we leave behind a void and no intention of filling it, yet can we really expect to suffer no effect?  What I describe was my life growing up.  Thank God for it and Thank God I was able to introduce these kinds of working values to my own children, a genuine work-ethic.

Kids peddling newspapers and pumping gas are jobs and experiences never coming back however, the life skills those jobs and many others like them instilled in those kids provided a tremendous benefit we fail to provide today.  Like everything in life, there is a price for this failing and we can see it all around us as the mobs of phone-obsessed kids trudge through life oblivious to their surroundings, mind-numbed by a screen and sadly lacking of any of the kinds of “street-smarts” I managed to learn.

Today’s parental insistence on the physical “safety” of their kids justifies their hyper-insulation from the realities of life.  Paradoxically, kids will learn the longest-lasting lessons about safety when parents allow them, (within reason and with calculation) to experiment with their own judgment and at times be even a bit unsafe.  You can’t know where the margins are if you never push them.  Close-calls forge real lessons and develop better habits much more authentically than a hovering-smothering-over-protective and lecturing parent.  The mistakes and mis-steps we prevent our kids from taking will correspondingly fail to teach them anything.  Failure is a wonderful teacher when consequences have real sting.

The illusion of safety is represented by a parent believing that the act of knowing their kids’ whereabouts is sufficient.  The actual threat comes silently from screens and ear-buds and knows no safe boundaries.  While parents may sit in the same room with their kids, digital forces from unknown sources are competing for dominance and control of their thoughts.

The reality of my childhood that involved, literally, playing on the railroad tracks, hopping trains and jumping off cliffs into the deep waters of abandoned gravel pits was a better and more effective character developing experience that I would argue was in the long run not only safer, but better than being mentally and emotionally poisoned digitally, ironically under the silent illusion of a safety we failed to provide.