All of my life, I have had a reluctance to experiment with technology. When I was in 6th grade, it was mandatory for us to take a keyboarding class. During the course, I would say to myself, "This is pointless. I will only need my pen and a good notebook to get by in the world." I thought it was a complete waste of time and I did not invest my time in the class to really learn how to type.
My world continued to be ruled by the pen until I had a wake-up call my Senior year of high-school. I was forced to take yet another Keyboarding class my last semester. Who really wants to take a class that they don't care about their last semester of high school? I sure didn't. The first day of class we were all assigned a computer and I was happy to be sitting beside the most beautiful girl in my class, Lindsay. I truly was the luckiest man in the world, or so I thought. One thing that I didn't know was that Ms. Lindsay was a typing fiend. She could push out 80 and 90 words a minute. Needless to say, I was greatly humbled by her performance, and with a tail between my legs, I began to really focus on typing.
As time went on, I finally got the knack for it and understood the basic processes of the older Mac computers. I came to find out that these basic skills would save me during my Freshman year at BYU.
In many regards, I feel like Mr. Gu. Printed books bring out a deep nostalgia for the power of the pen and the texture of paper. Books make the English language come alive. The language becomes something tangible. For me, the feel of thick paper and leather-bindings will always be a comfort to me. With this said, I have been forced to live in a world where technology is essential to understand for success. Without being able to understand the basic skill of typing, I would be left behind in my college pursuits.
For me, I have had to adapt just like Robert Gu. If I stay in the past, I will be forgotten in the flood of technology that is encompassing the earth. My old pens will run out of ink and my paper will burn. A marriage is taking place between my pen and the black keys of my Mac. To do my work, I have to adapt to new tools.
The poem, "Digging" by Seamus Heaney depicts the progression in the modes of labor from grandfather to son, and finally to grandson. In our world today, our tools are changing. I once used the pen as my mighty tool. Now, I swiftly glide my hands over a keyboard, tapping out what I find meaningful in my life.
Who knows where the future will take us.
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