The Perils of Trexting

Every semester, I talk about the concept of cultural lag in my introductory classes. This is the idea that material culture--our gadgets, for instance--evolves at a much faster rate than the norms and rules for using these gadgets. To ram the point home, I talk about a particular gadget that everyone's familiar with--cell phones. Every few months we're given a great new cell phone that can do everything but cook for us, but very rarely will you find the "rules" provided with the directions.

As I tell my students, its the difference between "can we" and "should we". For instance, yes we can text our BFF about the hot guy that tried to get our phone number in Biology class. Should we do it while hurtling down the expressway at 75 miles an hour? Probably not, as several state legislatures have now confirmed. Sadly, this is a restriction that you may not find in the manuals of those early phones and PDAs.

Cultural lag is the reason that identity theft came before the laws to prevent it, or why many states now have reactionary "no texting while driving" laws on the books. Its taken some time, and now we know better. Unfortunately, its because we've learned our lessons the hard way.

I see examples of the perils of cultural lag on a daily basis on campus. And again, cell phones are usually the common denominator. For example, this semester I happen to be teaching in a building across campus. It's a bit of a walk, but not one that I mind. Not only does the walk get me out of my office, but it's a daily stroll down memory lane. My walk takes me back to the days when I was one of the masses I so often talk about. There's something novel about mingling with the throngs of students as they flock across the quad, like lemmings heading toward the cliff.

One of the differences I see with students now, however, is that you don't see many faces as you walk from place to place. You're more likely to see the top of someone's head, or the brim of a ball cap as they furiously stab away at their cell phones. Occasionally someone will peek over the top of the phone, making minor course corrections or dodging to avoid oncoming foot traffic. Most will stop before crossing the street, just to check that the coast is clear. But there's always one or two that plow through the throngs like a bulldozer, their eyes never once leaving the screen.

For some of these students, this practice of "trexting"--the ability to compose a text while trekking from point A to point B--is innate, and after years it becomes second nature. For others, however, it's the technological equivalent of walking and chewing gum. Take, for example, a girl I saw one morning last semester. I was walking a short distance behind her, heading to my office. The sidewalk we were on curves around a building in a wide arc, and like many on my campus, is lined with light posts. Each post about six inches across, sits five feet from the edge of the sidewalk, and is made of pebbled steel. In other words, they're hard to miss, especially during the day.

To say this girl was in her own little world was an understatement, but this wasn't the reason I noticed her. After all, trexters are a dime a dozen. She caught my eye because of her ability to juggle a towering stack of books, a large coffee and still manage to text with both hands and cruise along at a pace that may have doubled as a cardio workout. But while her ability to balance a heavy load at high speeds was apparent, her navigation skills were not as well-honed.

As the curve in the sidewalk became more pronounced, I watched as she drifted into a direct collision course with an upcoming light pole. At first, I wasn't concerned, given the fact that even if she veered off the sidewalk, the poles were in the grass, and certainly, she'd notice the difference under her feet.

As you may have guessed at this point, I was wrong. She hit that pole head first at full speed. The stack of papers and coffee exploded around her like a charge had gone off in her hands, and I could hear the clang from 30 feet away. It looked like something out of an old black and white comedy, and it was all I could do not to laugh.

The collision was enough to get the attention of several passersby, who helped her to her feet and to gather her scattered belongings. And except for an impression of the pole on her forehead, the only real injury was to her ego. I'm sure that's what she was texting about as she walked away from the scene.

I see the lemmings everyday, trexting their way to the cliff. And while she was the first one I've seen actually go over the edge, so to speak, I'm sure she won't be the last.

Can we do it? For most, that's a yes. But should we?

I guess that depends on who you ask.