I have a front row seat of a Gen Z microcosm. And I’m full of hope.
My students love. They support and encourage. They include.
They also show up. They open their hearts and do scary stuff every day.
They also work their asses off.
Black Widow (names changed to protect the awesome) worked two doubles on the weekends to knock out that Boston rent while running events like the choreography showcase — equivalent to a full time job, on top of classwork.
She also did every crazy thing I asked her to do in the studio and kept practicing when she didn’t know if the thing she wanted to change would change. (It changed.)
Captain Marvel said no to a low-paying summer gig so she could work 2 restaurant jobs and sock away cash to have a base in outa-control, exorbitant NYC.
She weathered a vocal injury, surgery, and showed up when her voice wasn’t cooperating. One of the hardest things a singer can go through.
Wonder Woman was financially on her own. She paid her own bills, took extra classes, and railed against the school machine when stupid rules kept her out of other extra classes.
When I offered bonus lesson time in the studio, she signed up first.
She’s also kind, compassionate, and resilient. And I trust her with our boys.
Gen Z’s got grit-filled empathy wizards, and we’re lucky they’re coming up.
They’ve seen the hierarchical emperor’s new clothes, and they want to work together with equity and respect.
Every generation’s got assholes. I’ve been a representative in my own cohort.
And there are terrific, creative, flexible, loving humans in their teens and 20s who want to contribute, heal, and help. I get the privilege teach them.
They’re here with us now, and we’d do well to encourage them and ask what they’re noticing instead of posting on Facebook about how they need to put down their phones.
