Getting text-y with technology
The following is an actual text that I received from my son this
week (with capitalization and spelling left un-edited):
”
i got like half a blak eye … i will give u mOre details after
skewl.
”
After thinking,
”
How does someone get half a black eye?
”
I responded in my calm, fatherly way:
”
OK, sounds interesting.
”
Getting text-y with technology
The following is an actual text that I received from my son this week (with capitalization and spelling left un-edited): “i got like half a blak eye … i will give u mOre details after skewl.”
After thinking, “How does someone get half a black eye?” I responded in my calm, fatherly way: “OK, sounds interesting.”
As a teacher and writer, I was actually more concerned that my son – whom I consider an accomplished speller – misspelled “black” and “school” in his text. Had he gotten into a scrape with someone, the “skewl” officials would have called, so I figured the injury part wasn’t that serious.
Texting is great in its simplicity and effectiveness. Now that I know how to use it, and my phone has a “qwerty” keypad, I can text with the best of them. By “them,” I mean adults; because there is no way I can text with the speed and dexterity of today’s young people.
My 14-year-old, with his two good eyes, texts about as quickly as I type, which is pretty darned fast. When we are in the car together and I need to let my wife know something that is not worth a phone call, I pass the phone to him so he can shoot off a message to her. It sounds like an old teletype machine when he pounds out the letters on his phone, the clickety-clack reminiscent of a speeding train rolling down the tracks.
Texting chops up the English language so much that people often even cut in half “OK” to just “K.” Think of the time savings there.
At the same time that he serves as my texting proxy, my son will be conducting a text-based conversation with one or more of his friends, all the while not looking at the screen, which explains his spelling of “blak” but maybe not “skewl.”
I always have him show me what he typed before I let him hit the send button, because those chopped up words that he’s writing reflect on me. And I never have nor ever will type the word “skewl” when I’m texting.
Texting gives us yet another way to avoid direct human interaction, which in some cases helps us avoid awkward situations. As I was typing this, my sister-in-law sent me a text telling me that she was sorry that she missed my birthday, which was eight days previous.
I appreciated the sentiment. It was as if she had sent me a belated birthday card, just without the wasteful expenditure on a cheesy joke about age. And without the check or gift card, but I’m not complaining.
With texting, we can be short and to the point with our loved ones without feeling rude.
“Call when u can.”
“Can’t talk now, will call later.”
I refuse to type “L8R” instead of “later,” but I will type “Whassup?”
I told my son “Call when u r done with school” so I could hear, not read, about this half a black eye thing. Turns out he was at recess and he went down to pick up a ball “and I went back up and it hit me in the eye.”
“So the ball hit you?” I asked. “No, it was [his friend’s] foot.”
It was inadvertent and “kinda funny, but it hurt,” my son said. The good thing, if there is a good thing about a “blak” eye in “skewl,” is that my son said “it’s pretty manly though. My friends say I look like Scarface.”
“So you like it?” I asked.
“Oh yeah,” he responded with a laugh. Then, remembering that he is an increasingly vain teenager, said “Not really.”
His friend with the flying foot reminded my son that he needs to watch where he puts his face, which is the type of joke that I can appreciate.
I’m sure the injury will be the subject of numerous texts this week, and perhaps a few picture mails. Or maybe the “half a blak eye” will curtail the texting for a few days.
Then again, the thought that it will reduce the amount of texting is something to LOL about.
