The Problem with Gen Y, or The Theory of the Bumblebee

I read an article in the Huff Post about the problem with Gen Y.  Not to be a trader to my generation, (yes, I am Gen Y, check here and also here) but there are a lot of Gen Y-ers out there making the rest of us look bad.  The search for the article I found started when a friend of mine was complaining about a person she just hired.  My friend was just stupefied by the lack of respect the person had for authority and how it seemed everything was unfair and due the new employee.

You can read the article here.  Basically it explains that Gen Y has an unrealistic view of... reality.  The views of how success is achieved are clouded by rainbows and unicorns and look-alike medals.  It's a great article full of graphics.

So whose fault is it?  I am not placing blame, but I will say this:  Take the story of the Sneetches, by the wonderful Dr. Seuss.  It was meant to teach us a lesson about  not being taken advantage of and not being stuck up.  Stars were special but then stars were not.  But here's the thing: If everyone is unique, then being unique isn't unique.  It's just the way.  It's like the grading system.  If everyone is getting As is that really exceptional or is it average?  If everyone is above average... it makes a new average.  That's science.  Actually it's math.

Some people will tell us we coddle our kids.  We tell them how wonderful they are.  And I know some are thinking, well they are!  Yes.  They are.  To us.  But if we teach kids everyone is a winner, we really are setting them up for failure.  Everyone doesn't win.  Now I am not saying start keeping score and explain to kindergarten students the actual statistical chances of their success given the data and situation.

Let me ask you: do you let a student believe that he can be anything he wants?  Or do you go around pointing to every bumblebee, explaining why what he is doing is impossible.  My dad used to tell me not to tell a bumblebee he cannot fly, because he doesn't know it.  If you tell him, he will drop to the ground and never be able to get up. He never told me I couldn't, because that would seal my fate.  (That is actually a myth. About bumblebees. Not because I went around whispering horrible truths to bumblebees, but because I read this.)

It is not up to us to tell them they cannot.  Because really, in today's world, anyone probably can.  Look at Susan Boyle, Rudy, Justin Bieber. There are Cinderella stories everyday.  No longer are you confined by your looks, background or lack of natural talent.

So if we don't tell them they can't, and we don't tell them they are wonderful butterflies, as unique and important as the day is long, what do we tell them?  How do we create a culture of hard-workers and over-comers without crushing the dreams of our young?  How do we choose what to celebrate?

(and stop telling people (and yourself) you can't when what you really mean is you don't want to.  Because you can.  It might be hard and it might not even be worth it, but it turns out the bumblebee can fly.  So pick up your bootstraps and do/learn that thing you said you couldn't.  Or just admit you don't want to.  I don't want to clip coupons.  I say I do.  I even clip them.  And then I forget them until they expire.  I say I can't, I don't have time.  What I mean is: I would rather be doing a million other things like Pinterest or Twitter or knitting or Netflixing or crafting a hyperbole than organizing and remembering coupons.  There.  I said it. You can too.)