Learning Disrupted

I wait at the table, wondering how long my child will take? I am teaching him to hold a pencil but he keeps dropping it like a flake. You see there is dead end that our power tension has reached and suddenly everything has stopped working as the internet has been breached.

We are the last of our generation who knew what wonders body and mind can do. Their combination used to be ecstatic, a feeling my son never understood. We talked about invention and wrote some poetry; but all I see in him are zombie eyes that follow the phone's trajectory. Oh yes, there are some good things that technology got along, but now no one ever reads a book or hums into a song.

From Wheels to Deals, from travel to shovel, from books to business we had our embodied energy to harness. We could work in ice boxes and brave the heat of boiling metal furnace. But here I am struggling with the advancement of humankind, he has used his fingers so much on games that my son has lost his mind.

His friends laugh when they see a book, they try not to hold it. Their hands are not used to paper, nor do they know how to fold it?

It may seem so okay, when the child is just five and wants to play,

But here I talk about a man of twenty, digitalized and confined to a wireless array.

Studies, of course he did, but I no notebook to proudly show the ten on ten,

Everything is on-line or cloud nine, and at twenty he can no more hold a pen.

But us mother's always have hidden, a trick or two up our sleeve,

I agreed with him that internet is dead, for sometime let him grieve,

Then gave an apt knuckle on his head, and dragged the sombre man out of bed,

I made it clear in my Momster tone, "No work then you will not be fed."

He was aghast, to live in ways of past, and even considered me as bonkers because of grey.

I made it clear in a tone to fear, "Work or in this house, you won't stay!"