Feeds
Teens don't tweet, will never tweet - too public, too many older users. Not cool.
This crowd did not gather for a ball game or a protest, or to gawk at some sort of disaster. They came to the banks of the sleepy Illinois River to witness a little miracle — a happy ending, or an anxious beginning, depending on how you look at it.
They don't HAVE to get up.
Each time 15-year-old Reginald Graham builds a bicycle, the process begins with a ritual.
For many of the women, the chemistry lab was a home away from home — a sorority for nerds, of sorts, that hints at the slow but steady shift in technical fields that have been traditionally filled with men.
The young people in the ad look dissatisfied and pouty. Barack Obama's voice and the words "winning the future," from one of his old campaign speeches, echo in the background.
You can almost smell the opportunity along Highway 2. It oozes deep from the sloping North Dakota prairie where oil derricks and natural gas wells sprout among the drying rolls of hay.
He is about half the age of other students in the room. Yet 13-year-old Noah Egler is completely in his element, wearing powder blue medical scrubs and answering questions with an enthusiasm that draws smiles from those around him.
Among academics who track the behavior of young adults and teens, there's a touchy debate: Should the word "entitled" be used when talking about today's younger people? Are they overconfident in themselves?
The violin isn't pretty, but its scratched frame has been well-loved by the girl who cradles it now, and those who played it before her. Her mother calls it her daughter's "soul mate."
Look around a waiting room at a university counseling center and you'll see students wrestling with all sorts of issues: The one who's failing because of binge drinking. Another who's struggling with a roommate conflict, or a recent break-up. Yet another who's stressed out and suicidal.
First there were a few cheers. Then, as news that Osama bin Laden was dead beamed from TV screens around them, the crowd at a campus bar erupted.
The meeting between the 7-year-old boy and the 31-year-old man began awkwardly, as meetings of strangers often do. But then young Jacob Kowalik sized up the adult, and began to drop his guard.
It started innocently enough, with a boy hamming it up in front of a computer webcam.
There was a time when LOL — "laughing out loud" — was so simple.
This school isn't a place you end up by accident.
A string of illuminated glass bulbs, hung for the holidays, may seem like no big deal, so common it's easy to pass them without really noticing. But we humans are simple beings who sometimes communicate best in the most basic ways.
Nights at the museum aren't always as quiet as you'd think. There are parties and corporate events. Sometimes, dozens of kids and their parents are allowed in for one big, fairly sleepless sleepover.
It started with figs, on a plate, stashed under a pool side table.
Muggs Bass doesn't own a computer. She's pretty much dead set against e-mail. Anyone who calls her home on Michigan's remote Beaver Island should be prepared for a busy signal, if she's on her land-line phone. She has no cell.
Lindsay Avner is no shrinking violet. She's a bright pink whirlwind, with a closet full of dresses cut from that very color and a cancer-fighting organization she named for it.
Jose Alaniz spent about a week sorting and packing each comic book — carefully, lovingly. There were 12 boxes of them, comics he'd collected since his mother bought him his first one at age 6.
The hour when Ariana Kramer will begin her college career is fast approaching — and her parents are in an office supply store, disagreeing about hanging files, of all things.
They aren't even out of grade school. But already, people are trying to name the youngest up-and-coming generation, and figure out who they might be and how they might be different from their predecessors.
In these uncertain times, most of us cling to the things that make us feel secure. Those who have jobs give thanks. We hug our children a little tighter. We wait — and hope — for better times.
Log In | Register
