Most college students today have grown up surrounded by technology. We have seen televisions slim down to less than an inch, and some laptops weigh little more than two pounds. Cassette tapes and VCRs, once necessities, have disappeared before our eyes. Technology has been engrained in our lives since day one, and in some ways, each device can be seen as a monument representing a different phase of childhood. The first cell phone marks the transition into young adulthood. The mp3 player was a time of iTunes gift cards and Top 100 tracks, but also sleepovers and lunch tables. For current college kids, LED screens illuminate Memory Lane.
Who could forget their first cell phone? Having a cell phone meant officially becoming independent enough to require a personal telephone line. “Where should I pick you up from soccer practice?” “Call me, and I’ll let you know.” For the average preteen, functions like the mosquito “adults can’t hear it” ringtone provided endless entertainment. Chatting about nothing and sending chain messages was so tempting that it was hard not to exceed monthly texting limits. If your cell phone had a camera, you became the star of every birthday party, and if your phone had a keyboard, you were the envy of your entire grade.
Like the cell phone, having an mp3 player really changed the game. Bus rides had custom playlists. Bus buddies took turns selecting songs from the soundtracks of whatever Disney Channel movie had premiered that month, and sang along to Demi and the Jonas Brothers. After a particularly trying day at school, it wasn’t uncommon to stare out the window and listen to Fergie serenade you with the lyrics to “Big Girls Don’t Cry.” Being the last person to get off the bus meant getting to listen to a playlist in its entirety – it was no longer something to complain about.
When smartphones debuted, our adolescence was forever transformed. The agonizing hours spent at school being unable to check social media vanished, and it was suddenly possible to be Facebook active all the time. Twitter statuses changed every minute. As the development of applications like Snapchat and Instagram increased, classroom productivity decreased. It was no longer necessary to recount stories aloud because anything notable was likely recorded. The smartphone undoubtedly enhanced the high school experience.
It is funny to think about my enV2 and my iPod Mini. Both of those devices were once so important to me, and my 12 year-old self would never have believed that they would have been irrelevant in just a few years. When I see my younger sister crouched over her phone, editing photos with the unbreakable concentration of a neurosurgeon, I wonder whether her phone, now such a staple in her life, will soon join my enV and iPod, collecting dust in a drawer somewhere.