Mission Impossible

 It’s 11:30 on a Thursday morning when I knock once and open his bedroom door. I have been awake since dawn flitting between duties of home and office. Drumming my fingers. Waiting and watching for his door to open. For water to pulse through drains. For his car to leave its parking space.

I am here now because there has been no movement whatsoever. My texts go unanswered and unread. He’s had all week to do nothing.

The temperature has reached 80 degrees outside and the relative humidity feels like a hundred and eighty percent, but my son’s room is frosty. I open the door wider and fan into the swampy air of the hallway.

He is tangled in a blanket, still asleep, one foot and one arm hanging akimbo from the bed.

I am playing the Good Cop today since his father strained his voice reading the riot act last night. But at the sight of him, I sense my good nature slipping.

I rap on the wall to rouse him.

“What’s the plan, Stan?”

“Huuuuh,” he answers slowly, lifting his head and raising himself on his elbows, causing me to repeat myself, louder, so he can hear me over the the roar of his ancient air conditioning unit.

WHAT. ARE. YOUR. PLANS. FOR. TODAY!?

“Same thing I do every day, Pinkie: Taking over the world ….”

But he recounts his list … he will fulfill the requirements of his college-level course for the day, he will apply for a job somewhere, and he will pull some weeds from the garden and mow the lawn if I ask him at least twice. 

It feels like the best deal I will get. And maybe it’s for the best.

I had read that the summer job – a right of passage for American teens – has been on a steady decline for decades. 

I know what you’re thinking: “Kid’s today!”  My husband, who is particularly prone to reciting all of the hardships of his not-so-misspent youth, is also particularly sensitive to the fears that without a summer job, our kids will never be able to learn responsibility, the importance of having a good work ethic or how to make change?

And so it happens that we join all of our ancestors in wringing hands and declaring the youth of today in their demographic’s entirety as being uniquely problematic.

We remember the summer jobs we had “in our day” – working in hot kitchens washing dishes, scraping and painting exterior walls – with some sense of nostalgia. Perhaps merely because it was the one time in our lives we had money that wasn’t already spent on living.

 However, perhaps we don’t realize that the teen workforce has been declining since our so-called salad days began. 

According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, that figure has dropped from a rate of 60 percent in 1970 to 35 percent in 2016. And while it may seem dismal, it can be explained by the steady push toward expanding education. The summer job had essentially turned into summer learning, with many students even getting a jump on college credits before they even graduate high school. Privilege kids may have kept their jobs scooping ice cream at their local parlors but less advantaged ones found respite in increased access to school programs.

The shift has meant graduation rates rose to 90 percent in 2019 from where they were in 1975 hovering around 65 percent.

 Teen labor numbers are increasing, however. In recent years the rate has risen to nearly 38 percent of teens ages 16-19 engaged in paid summer employment. This year is on track to increase again, according to Pew Research. Economists surmise the increase has to do with stronger wages and the costs of higher education. 

Still, unemployment among teens is higher than for other demographics, potentially the result of teens competing with adults for the same entry-level jobs. This is something my son is happy to tell me as he rummages through the refrigerator for his brunch.

 “Your assignment should you choose to accept it, is written on the To Do List on the refrigerator door. 

And as he leans back with a mouthful of fruit to grab the list, I realize it’s probably going to work out for the best.