Meet the ‘I don’t know’ generation
During my freshman year of high school, my English teacher required each student to memorize quotes from the play “Julius Caesar.” Ever since, I have turned to Shakespeare’s words in times of turmoil and turbulence to remember essential truths:“The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves ...”“Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.”“This was the most unkindest cut of all.”Likewise, in 2013, then-future British Prime Minister Boris Johnson visited Hong Kong and spoke about finding solace and fortitude amid life’s brevity and failures. He said he often looked to a passage from “The Iliad.” In a remarkable show of erudition, Johnson recited that excerpt in ancient Greek for more than two minutes, leaving his audience in awe.No one wants to say it, but we are fostering an entire generation of Americans with 'slower' brains. Last year, actor Jeff Goldblum appeared on “The Late Show with Stephen Colbert.” When asked how he “stays inspired,” he delivered a lengthy, heartfelt quote from George Bernard Shaw about “the true joy in life.” His effortless recall was striking. Such spontaneous displays of deep knowledge are rare today for a sobering reason: We are raising a generation less and less capable of presenting such learned feats. Students simply do not study as they once did, nor can they retain information at the same level. As a result, their knowledge gaps are enormous — so vast, in fact, that those outside the teaching profession might find them hard to fathom. This is not hyperbole or melodrama; it reflects the lived reality of today’s American classroom. Students possess shocking gaps in their knowledge. Can they name the state capitals? Planets in the solar system? Basic grammar, cursive, oceans, or continents? Do they understand what makes certain presidents great? Are the years 1066, 1215, 1776, or 1941 significant to them? Sadly, the list goes on. Data from the National Center for Education Statistics confirms this decline: study times have fallen, and students complete less homework. Even when they study, they often become distracted by phones and other devices. Gen Z reportedly spends up to nine hours a day on screens. Most American college students study less than two hours per day. Strangely, despite these dwindling efforts, grades have soared and graduation rates are higher than ever. This paradox — less work yielding better results — casts doubt on modern education. It recalls a line from the 1990s group C+C Music Factory: “Things That Make You Go Hmmm ...” No one wants to say it, but we are fostering an entire generation of Americans with “slower” brains. Students increasingly claim they cannot study, explaining that they simply “cannot remember anything” when it is time for an exam. A new family of expressions — “brain rot,” “doom scrolling” — have emerged to describe the damage. Why don’t kids read any more? They can’t concentrate. And even if they could, many lack the vocabulary or cultural-historical knowledge to appreciate what they read. Try understanding “A Farewell to Arms” when you know almost nothing about World War I. Try grasping “The Kite Runner” if you have never heard of Afghanistan. Traditional methods of rigorous study and rote memorization have largely fallen out of favor, dismissed as relics of a bygone educational era. In their place, newer objectives — such as promoting “21st-century skills,” emphasizing social-emotional health, encouraging “digital literacy,” or exploring identity — have taken center stage. At the same time, modern “thought leaders” and consultants, many with little or no firsthand classroom experience, often mock the foundational goals of education: building strong reading and writing skills and cultivating deep, substantive knowledge. But we can do something about it: When we raise the bar, our young people can and will rise to meet it. And here is the dead giveaway. Many of the same kids who claim they cannot study for academics somehow find a way to memorize dozens of plays on the football field, lines for a drama production, or moves for a video game. I tested this theory in my classroom, asking students to memorize foundational American texts: the Preamble to the Constitution, the First Amendment, and the second paragraph of the Declaration of Independence. At first, they balked. But over time, something remarkable happened. They didn’t just learn the words; they learned something essential about themselves. They discovered that effort yields rewards and that they were capable of more than they had believed. As my freshman English teacher taught me, some truths are worth remembering forever. Knowledge isn’t just valuable in the marketplace; it’s essential for a well-lived life. It builds the foundation of a substantial self, grounded not in fleeting trends or momentary chicness, but in the wisdom of the ages. Without intellectual rigor, our chi
During my freshman year of high school, my English teacher required each student to memorize quotes from the play “Julius Caesar.” Ever since, I have turned to Shakespeare’s words in times of turmoil and turbulence to remember essential truths:
“The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves ...”
“Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.”
“This was the most unkindest cut of all.”
Likewise, in 2013, then-future British Prime Minister Boris Johnson visited Hong Kong and spoke about finding solace and fortitude amid life’s brevity and failures. He said he often looked to a passage from “The Iliad.” In a remarkable show of erudition, Johnson recited that excerpt in ancient Greek for more than two minutes, leaving his audience in awe.
No one wants to say it, but we are fostering an entire generation of Americans with 'slower' brains.
Last year, actor Jeff Goldblum appeared on “The Late Show with Stephen Colbert.” When asked how he “stays inspired,” he delivered a lengthy, heartfelt quote from George Bernard Shaw about “the true joy in life.” His effortless recall was striking.
Such spontaneous displays of deep knowledge are rare today for a sobering reason: We are raising a generation less and less capable of presenting such learned feats. Students simply do not study as they once did, nor can they retain information at the same level. As a result, their knowledge gaps are enormous — so vast, in fact, that those outside the teaching profession might find them hard to fathom.
This is not hyperbole or melodrama; it reflects the lived reality of today’s American classroom. Students possess shocking gaps in their knowledge. Can they name the state capitals? Planets in the solar system? Basic grammar, cursive, oceans, or continents? Do they understand what makes certain presidents great? Are the years 1066, 1215, 1776, or 1941 significant to them? Sadly, the list goes on.
Data from the National Center for Education Statistics confirms this decline: study times have fallen, and students complete less homework. Even when they study, they often become distracted by phones and other devices. Gen Z reportedly spends up to nine hours a day on screens.
Most American college students study less than two hours per day. Strangely, despite these dwindling efforts, grades have soared and graduation rates are higher than ever. This paradox — less work yielding better results — casts doubt on modern education. It recalls a line from the 1990s group C+C Music Factory: “Things That Make You Go Hmmm ...”
No one wants to say it, but we are fostering an entire generation of Americans with “slower” brains. Students increasingly claim they cannot study, explaining that they simply “cannot remember anything” when it is time for an exam. A new family of expressions — “brain rot,” “doom scrolling” — have emerged to describe the damage.
Why don’t kids read any more? They can’t concentrate. And even if they could, many lack the vocabulary or cultural-historical knowledge to appreciate what they read. Try understanding “A Farewell to Arms” when you know almost nothing about World War I. Try grasping “The Kite Runner” if you have never heard of Afghanistan.
Traditional methods of rigorous study and rote memorization have largely fallen out of favor, dismissed as relics of a bygone educational era. In their place, newer objectives — such as promoting “21st-century skills,” emphasizing social-emotional health, encouraging “digital literacy,” or exploring identity — have taken center stage.
At the same time, modern “thought leaders” and consultants, many with little or no firsthand classroom experience, often mock the foundational goals of education: building strong reading and writing skills and cultivating deep, substantive knowledge.
But we can do something about it: When we raise the bar, our young people can and will rise to meet it.
And here is the dead giveaway. Many of the same kids who claim they cannot study for academics somehow find a way to memorize dozens of plays on the football field, lines for a drama production, or moves for a video game.
I tested this theory in my classroom, asking students to memorize foundational American texts: the Preamble to the Constitution, the First Amendment, and the second paragraph of the Declaration of Independence. At first, they balked. But over time, something remarkable happened. They didn’t just learn the words; they learned something essential about themselves. They discovered that effort yields rewards and that they were capable of more than they had believed. As my freshman English teacher taught me, some truths are worth remembering forever.
Knowledge isn’t just valuable in the marketplace; it’s essential for a well-lived life. It builds the foundation of a substantial self, grounded not in fleeting trends or momentary chicness, but in the wisdom of the ages.
Without intellectual rigor, our children will never know what they’re capable of or how high they can reach. The solution is simple yet profound: Ask more. Demand more. And watch the magic happen.
Originally Published at Daily Wire, World Net Daily, or The Blaze
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