The Next Generation

"I'm Bao"

I was hoping to write another post shortly about the Internet and the 20-somethings generation, but in the mean time, my friend Alexa encouraged me to share a story with you about my trip to Wellesley, Massachusetts yesterday to move one of the students I work with into college.

I met Bao a couple of years ago when she joined the Model United Nations program at her high school. This program is one of my favorite parts about my job: they meet once a week at Cleary throughout the school year to prepare for conferences around the country. They are coached by our attorneys and paralegals, and by a fabulous teacher at the high school. Bao is one of those “naturally-smart” people. When she joined Model UN her intelligence became quickly apparent through her ability to form sophisticated opinions on world issues with incredible ease. She quickly became one of the leading members on the team. I got to know her during these two years at practice and when she traveled with the team to New Hampshire, Virginia, and California. In California, the other team members started to imitate her proud way of announcing herself to people by saying "I'm BAO!" For the remainder of the trip, both the coaches and the students announced "I'm Bao!" at random moments.


Bao moved to the United States from Vietnam with her mom, dad, and three brothers and two sisters when she was three years old. At age six, her mother passed away after a fight with cancer, leaving her father-- a garbage collector who does not speak English--to raise six children. Bao is a champion though--despite all of this, she graduated as the Validictorian of her class at Washington Irving High School and killed the SATs. She got into Wellesley College, arguably the most prestigious women's college in the country that boasts alums like Hillary Clinton and Madeline Albright, with a full scholarship of $54,000 a year (tuition, room and board).

I am so elated with Bao's success--if anyone deserved it, it is her. After Bao graduated, she came to visit me and my coworker Ryan at work. When I asked her about when and how she was moving into college, she informed me that she hadn't really thought about it--she would most likely take the Chinatown Bus from New York City to Boston, and then figure out from there how to get to Wellesley. Realizing how difficult this would be for her (Wellesley is nearly in the middle of the woods) I offered to see if I could find a car to help her with the move-in. Unlike many students starting their college experiences, Bao only has a couple of friends that are moving away from home for college.


My college roommate, Jackie, came to the rescue and let me borrow her car. I woke up at 4:45 AM on Monday morning after sleeping over at Jackie's apartment in New Jersey. After fidgeting with Jackie's GPS and familiarizing myself with her car, I drove to Queens to pickup Bao and her father for the trip to Wellesley. Bao had spent the entire night awake—she had just gotten home from her first return trip to Vietnam at 11:45 PM. She and her sister stayed up through the night to pack her belongings. When I arrived, Bao's brothers, sisters and father helped her load the car with her belongings.

We were on the road by 6:30 AM and arrived to Wellesley by 9:45 AM. During the first half of the ride, I spoke with Bao about her experience in Vietnam. She said that since she moved to the United States little had changed in the village where she was born from what she and her sisters remembered. There were a few more cars, but that was it. Most people drive motorcycles around (one easy way to beat the heat). She also enjoyed getting to know her mother's sister and her cousins. One night soon before she left, she said she saw her mother's ghost after an argument with her sister. She said this had a profound effect on her. She saw it as a sign of the importance of always getting along with her family members. Her mother would not have appeared to her otherwise. We talked about the Vietnam War and her father's involvement in it as a General (and his six years in re-education camp). Her family was originally from North Vietnam but moved to the South at the beginning of the war. Years after the war, she was born in South Vietnam. Because her father helped out the American forces, her family was among the first granted visas to the United States after the war.

When we arrived at the school, we unloaded her belongings and parked the car. Her roommate had already arrived as well. Bao's roommate grew up two towns away from Wellesley, but had just spent the year between high school and college as an au pair in France. Both of her parents and younger brother were there to help her with the move in. Her parents looked slightly alarmed when Bao did a thorough inspection of the room for bedbugs and other pest-like life forms, and then brought up the topic of where to hide valuable belongings in the event of a break-in. The two girls decided on who would have which bed, desk, bookshelf, closet and bureaus. The view from their room is gorgeous--it looks out on Wellesley's famous lake. They decided to put their desks next to each other so they would both be able to look out of the window while studying. They also agreed they would attend the President's Welcome together later in the afternoon once her father and I left.

After unpacking her belongings, attending a luncheon and an information fair, it was time for me and Bao's father to head back to New York City. While she was walking us back to the car, Bao confessed her concern about making friends and fitting in. I assured her that all the new students were feeling similarly. I told her about my first time meeting my college roommates. Now eight years later, I am going to be the Maid of Honor of one of their (Jackie’s) weddings. I told her that she probably could never anticipate the people she would meet and the things that would happen to her in the upcoming year. I also reminded her of how many people loved her at home, and how her quirky personality would help people warm up to her as it always had in the past. Everyone likes happy people.

Her dad and I drove home from Wellesley in silence (there was a language barrier). I dropped him off at their apartment in Queens around 7:30, drove back to Jersey to drop off Jackie's car. After spending a few minutes in Jackie's apartment, she drove me to the train so I could go back to Manhattan. I arrived to Penn Station into a sea of people, got on the 1 train, and rode home.

A Spirit of Volunteerism and Responsibility

Hello again Everyone! I’ve decided that instead of writing out one very long article (or rewriting my first post), I would address my points in installments. I am doing this because 1) I have a full time job that needs to get done and a lot of personal responsibilities. I simply don't have time to write longer pieces in one sitting and, 2) I would like to keep you entertained and interested.



When I first discussed my blog with my mother, she brought up a valid point about her generation. She expressed her concern that my generation is not protesting the war in Iraq the same way her generation protested the war in Vietnam. Many people in our parents’ generation see us as a lazy and apathetic bunch that is more concerned with self-searching and seeking pleasure than starting our adult lives. I remember when I was getting ready to graduate from college with a degree in philosophy, my mother feared that I would leave the US and spend my life meditating on a mountain in Tibet.


There are a few things that our parents' generation does not understand about our generation. The first is that we have the benefit of the Internet. We can express our ideas, annoyances and feelings through a forum that can reach to the ends of the earth. This is far more effective than protesting. We form groups on Facebook, respond to message boards and quickly send around emails. Just because you can’t physically see us ranting and raving outside (like the tea partiers) does not mean we are apathetic and unaware (it was our enormous turnout at the polls, in fact, that got Barack Obama elected).


The second thing I want to bring up: The 20-something generation volunteers in enormous numbers. In fact, many of us (myself included) have dedicated our careers and lives to making the world a better place. Last year, 17% of Harvard’s graduating class applied to Teach for America. My friend Melissa Korn wrote the following article for the Wall Street Journal: "Brother, Can You Spare Some Time?" last November. (Kudos to my 20-something friend and former coworker Kathleen for being the first person profiled in this article). As the article states “the rate of volunteerism among those 20 to 24 increased by nearly half between 1989 and 2005, to 18.7%. Among those age 25 to 34, the participation rate climbed to 23.4% from 20.2%.” I would guess that is has grown even more in the last five years.

When I attend volunteering events, the older generation is noticeably absent. 20-somethings realize that they have arrived into a less-than-perfect world and do not want to be the generation that keeps the status quo. In fact, we simply cannot. We are burdened with a huge sense of responsibility to the world around us. I get upset when my parent's generation sees our volunteering as some sort of trivial floundering around and delaying of life, or as Robin Marantz Henig put it in her article, "meandering." You had kids--that was your responsibility. And to the women of the 50-somethings generation--you got jobs and laid the groundwork for women in the workplace. Thank you for that. For many of us, our equivalent responsibility for our 20s decade is making the world a bit better. I know that when I graduated from college, I remember feeling morally obligated to forge a career path that wouldn't necessarily make me a lot of money, but that would better the world around me. That is why I ultimately decided to do Teach for America upon graduating. In her article Henig uses Teach for America as an example of one way in which we 20-somethings "forestall" our adult lives. I'm sure anyone who has ever been a part of TFA finds this to be one big slap in the face: being in charge of a classroom full of under served students is one of the most difficult responsibilities someone can take on.


This sense of responsibility is also part of the reason why law firms have dramatically grown their Pro Bono departments in the last 12 years--among other things, they realize that if they want to recruit the top law students, they had better have opportunities for the students to give back to their world. Our generation feels compelled to do this. The current economy, environmental policies, education system, and medical system are simply not sustainable.

So, maybe we are not well represented at political rallies. Maybe we’re not protesting the war as much as the generations before us did. But we aren't apathetic: we are actually out there DOING something to make a practical, tangible difference. A lot of us are doing it every single day with a lot of blood, sweat and tears.  Sometimes this comes with sacrificing a big pay check, and therefore a slower pay off of our student loans and ultimately delaying our personal lives. Is that so bad though? Someone’s gotta take care of this mess. The 50-somethings certainly are not. I don’t want my children to enter adulthood into the same environment that I did. As an adult, I know that it would be irresponsible.


PS: I encourage my 20-something readers to send me a note and let me know what they are doing to change the world around them. You can contact me at maurya.couvares@gmail.com.



PPS: After composing this blog post, I found this article that very eloquently touches on a lot of what I said in this post. Check it out.

Happy Friday and stay tuned.

An addendum to my original post

I am starting to receive some great feedback from my first post (both negative and positive).  I wanted to add some editoral notes:

1)  Mom, I love you.  To me, you walk on water.  This was not about you. This was a lot about Dad, your generation, and stories I've heard from several friends. 

2)  I am planning on fleshing the original post out more. This was more of a visceral reaction to my reading of the article. I am not a professional writer, and I did not anticipate such a broad readership of this post.  I know I have responsibility to develop my view at this point.

Generation #Fail

(**An Editorial note on this post.  I realize that not all 50-somethings are teapartiers.  I mean more to point out the lack of 20-somethings in the movement.  )

Thank you everyone for your positive responses to my first post below. Many people have asked me if I would be following up with a new post anytime soon. I was afraid that I wouldn’t have much more to say. My fears were assuaged this afternoon.


If there is any indication of a failed generation, it is the Tea Party movement. This current political movement, populated by many rotund 50-somethings, is the epitome of a generation’s epic failure.


Today while I was walking back to work after my lunch break, I stumbled across a group of 50-somethings insisting that we impeach Obama for his “mass-genocide,” being an “agent of foreign power,” and likely the fact that he is “Muslim” (I hate to insult anyone’s intelligence that is reading this, but incase someone not in ‘the know’ stumbles upon this post, Obama is not a Muslim). More confusingly, their pictures portrayed Obama with Hitler’s mustache (Hitler was not a Muslim either).

Accordingly, I took out my camera and took the opportunity to photograph these specimens in their natural state. One tried to hand me a leaflet that espoused their position on things. Upon rejecting it, he questioned “What, can’t read?”


I overheard a person questioning one of the protestors:

Person on the Street: “Really? Are you really claiming that Obama is committing genocide?”

Protestor: “We have no jobs. This is a genocide.”

Unsurprisingly absent from this crowd were 20-somethings. I think most of us understand the weight of the word genocide.

Oh yeah—to the guy who asked me if I could read when I rejected his leaflet: Yes, I can f*cking read. I went to Boston College, not Beck University.

Here are some pictures for your viewing pleasure:

What is it about 50-somethings?

There has been a lot of discussion generated from the article “What is it about 20-somethings?” by Robin Marantz Henig in this past weekend’s New York Times Magazine. The article enrages me. If you want to know what is up with 20-somethings, you need to look at the source of these 20-somethings: The 50-Somethings.


Our parents’ generation got married too soon and went through traumatic divorces. They bought houses they could not afford with unsound mortgages. They ran up their credit cards.  They declared bankruptcies. They created chaos in our lives while expecting us to still be perfect children. While we were dealing with the emotional backlash of their irresponsibility, we were doing more homework than any other generation, killing ourselves with too many after school programs, and competing to get into the best colleges.  Ironically, this was done to please our parents--they told us how important it was for our success. We were raised being told that as long as we worked hard enough—If we got the best grades, went to the right schools, and pushed ourselves (God did we push ourselves), we could accomplish anything.  We could become whatever we wanted to be so long as we put our hearts and souls into it.  What they neglected to tell us was that it would come at the price of a lot of student loan debt, delaying our personal lives for the sake of our careers, and lots of therapy for the havoc they wreaked on our generation. Maybe 20-somethings just need a break from all the stress we were under before we left the nest. They certainly did not leave us much to work with upon our college graduations: A recession, emotional trauma, a destroyed environment, and unrealistically idealistic views of our futures.


Cut the 20-somethings some slack. They are a product of the 50-something “Me First” generation. I am a 26-year-old woman living in New York City. I pay my own bills, have a full time job in the pro bono department of a large law firm.  While I was struggling to pay back my student loans, my father attempted suicide. It left him with a permanent brain injury that required me to sell his two houses, his two cars, and file a Medicaid application for him. Lawyers, doctors, nurses, social service agents from the “Me First” generation come to me to handle my dad’s problems. I am my dad’s legal guardian. Why was I put in charge of this? Because none of the 50-somethings in his life were willing to step up and take responsibility. Typical. Like everything else, it’s not “their problem.” And you expect me to get married and have kids anytime soon? With what time?  While our parent's were fostering an unreasonable sense of idealism in us, they failed to teach us the hard-truth that life happens with its many ups and downs.  All the studying, practicing and dreaming in the world was never going to show us how to handle the real "stuff" of life.

I’m not alone in this. I know many 20-somethings making it on their own despite their parents’ missteps—divorces, bankruptcies, and midlife crises. And these 20-somethings are making ends meet in anyway possible despite the horrible economy they found upon their arrival to adulthood.  We all grow up trusting our parents--but when we look back, were they really the best people to take advice from? Maybe not.

Today’s 20-somethings do not want to replicate their parents’ missteps. I for one refuse to measure my maturity by arbitrary markers of adulthood imposed by a failed generation, the first generation to set America back. They lead us into two wars that they still fail to approach rationally, and are now throwing away the lives of several of us 20-somethings because they failed to learn the lessons of Vietnam. We carry the burden of their blessings. As their life spans have increased because of advances in medical care, they're continuing to occupy economic positions, tie up resources and generally obstruct America's formerly functioning economic ladder.  Purportedly, Eskimos would shove the old and infirm off to a death with honor aboard an ice floe, now the 50-Somethings rally around Terry Schiavo and piggishly refuse to accept reality.  They ostracize their gay children, refuse to accept interracial relationships and generally fail to understand why we find them so odious. The article's framework fails because there's no reason why 20-Something, with the benefit of the Internet and a faster, freer exchange of knowledge, would ever want to resemble the corpulent 50-something set.