Essays that Worked!

Jordan Motzkin '10
Mamaroneck High School, Larchmont, New York

Teenagers with cell phones: Kyocera, Motorola, Nextel, Nokia and Siemens. For some reason, the ability to stay in touch has created not an increase in awareness, but a rise in pointless banter. My classmates clutch their cell phones as life lines to their security, proof to themselves that they have fit into their niches. They give speeches to their phones; they lecture for everyone to hear. They stare at tiny screens, scrolling through their lengthy contact lists or games. Cell phones allow us always to be in touch, in demand and never alone. We avoid branching out to the stranger next to us when we isolate ourselves to our circuitry. We could take a small risk by putting the phone down and watching the scrolling world. Instead, we would rather be thoroughly immersed in our own security and contrived illusions of popularity.

My contact list is bound with glue and thread. It has a cover. I must be an old-fashioned 17 year old. Caricatures line the margins, and its members are listed as I choose, without automation. It is not lengthy or meaningless, rather it is very personal. My reason for this is certainly a result of what I value, but it is probably more related to the fact that I am severely hearing impaired. I was born with almost no hearing, but enough to function with the use of hearing aids.

When I was little, I did not view my disability as something that detrimentally affected me; however, I also did not realize that brewing in the subtext of my personality, this ailment would create an immeasurable benefit. I have gone through life observing my surroundings and watching cues carefully, noticing subtle interactions and understanding people beyond their words. I have been forced to rely on face-to-face relationships and come to realize that communicating with people is not something we do on the phone; it is something we do in person. Human contact never falters in revealing a person's true feelings. The telephone has only emulated these feelings to a lesser extent, even if sometimes fairly accurately. Still, people should meet; they should notice the swagger that one uses when happy or withdrawn posture when sad or shy.

Of course, it takes risk to leave yourself exposed in person. Life is about risk. It's about wrestling when you're 96 pounds and can't hear the whistle; it's about dancing when you can't hear the music; it's about being vocal even when you sound different. As I have learned, it's not about hearing. It's telling yourself that the obstacle isn't the whistle, or music, or inability to talk on the phone. It's about realizing that sometimes life's problem is a gift.

Last Modified: Wednesday, September 05, 2007 16:13