From the archive
Excerpt: “Setting the Bar”
“I pedal away with an all-too-familiar question bouncing around my head: ‘What are we doing to these kids?’”

“I pedal away with an all-too-familiar question bouncing around my head: ‘What are we doing to these kids?'”
Editor’s Note: The following is an excerpt from Setting the Bar: Preparing Our Kids to Thrive in an Era of Distraction, Dependency, and Entitlement, which was published in September by Barbarian Virtues Press. This excerpt has been lightly edited.
“Push back against the age as hard as it pushes against you.” – Flannery O’Connor
I’m riding my bike to work. The sun is rising, and the air has that crisp September morning scent. I always enjoy these morning rides, but today my joy borders on bliss. A curious sense of connection washes over me. It’s one of those rare, Forrest Gump moments when the grandeur of life hits you all at once and the mundane is suddenly transcendent—when, for reasons you can’t explain, you find yourself smiling at the sky like a dog basking in the sun after a long winter.
I turn the corner and find myself approaching seven high school students waiting on their bus. You likely have memories of yourself doing the same—standing on the corner talking, joking, laughing—being a kid. Throw that image out. What I see is six kids sitting (yes, sitting) on the curb silently scanning their phones. Their heads are tilted to the side lazily, mouths open, faces empty, and thumbs swiping steadily in search of distraction. To say they are entranced is not sufficient. Each is a solitary island unconcerned for the life form just inches away. They exude a lobotomized disinterest in the world—completely removed.
I could run up in a pink tutu and start skipping in circles around them and they might never notice. In fact, they don’t even register this bald, red-bearded bicyclist, until I am right next to them. Upon seeing one former student’s surprised recognition, I succumb to the first grumpy old man comment that crosses my mind: “You could talk to each other, you know.”
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This work is preserved in Merion West’s archive of articles and poems published from 2016 through early 2025. Explore the archive