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Lessons In Love For Generation Snapchat

Tatiana Curran, right, and her boyfriend Jake Cowen-Whitman say their three-year relationship is an anomaly amongst their peers. But they readily concede that even they have serious issues around intimacy.
Tovia Smith
/
NPR
Tatiana Curran, right, and her boyfriend Jake Cowen-Whitman say their three-year relationship is an anomaly amongst their peers. But they readily concede that even they have serious issues around intimacy.

Along with explicit sexual education classes, some schools are beginning to offer more G-rated lessons on love. Experts say the so-called "iGen" is woefully unprepared to have healthy, caring romantic relationships and young people need more guidance. So schools are adding classes that are less about the "plumbing" of relationships, and more about the passion.

At Beaver Country Day School, a private school near Boston, Matthew Lippman has taught whole courses on love and relationships. He loves teaching about love so much, he finds ways to delve into it every chance he gets.

In his American Literature class recently, he launched into a discussion about love songs.

"This is my favorite" he announces as he blasts "Despacito" by Luis Fonsi. The students howl.

"Are you kidding me?!"

"It's so dirty!" the students say.

"Just kidding!" Lippman laughs. But now that he's got their attention, he starts drilling them on what the song says about love — and lust.

Senior Tatiana Curran wades in cautiously. "It's sexual," she says. "But that doesn't mean it's love ... y'know what I mean?"

"I understand," Lippman reassures her, gently buttressing what may be a subtle distinction to some.

Matthew Lippman loves teaching about love so much he finds ways to slide in a lesson comparing contemporary and decades-old love songs during an African-American Literature class.
Tovia Smith / NPR
/
NPR
Matthew Lippman loves teaching about love so much he finds ways to slide in a lesson comparing contemporary and decades-old love songs during an African-American Literature class.

Lippman then introduces the class to what really is one of his favorites: "The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face" by Roberta Flack. The song starts to unfurl so slowly, you can literally see these millennials getting antsy. Several seem relieved when Lippman finally stops the song, and starts pressing them on its underlying message.

"It's showing that love takes time, that it's not something that you rush into," offers Joddy Nwankwo, noting how incongruous that is in today's culture of high-speed everything and blithe hook-ups.

"A lot of (students) have short attention spans," says Aiden Geary. "People don't have a lot of long term relationships because we want everything like now, and then once we have it we're bored with it."

People don't have a lot of long term relationships because we want everything like now, and then once we have it we're bored with it.

Curran and her boyfriend Jake Cowen-Whitman, who've been together for three years, are something of an exception. "I was asked literally the other day ... 'Aren't you bored?'" Curran laughs.

But as one of those "iGen" teens who tend to text more than talk, even Curran readily cops to having some serious issues with intimacy.

"I get really uncomfortable, when it comes to like really romantic things," she says. "Like I hate eye contact. It took me almost two years to actually fully make eye contact with Jake for a full sentence."

I think we are failing epically to have basic conversations with young people about the subtle, tender generous, demanding work about learning how to love.

The struggle to be present

"I think that's the biggest piece to all of this," says Lippman. "So much of this intimacy thing is being present, and that is hard for them."

For sure, not all of them. Some young people are persevering and managing to forge meaningful, intimate relationships. And in some ways, technology can actually enable some difficult conversations. Some teens text things they wouldn't have said at all if they had to do it face-to-face.

But, Lippman says, a significant number of young people are clearly struggling to make those real connections, and classes like his dovetail with a trend toward whole-child education.

He doesn't pretend that one class can be a cure, but his lessons do seem to be resonating with his students.

"Walking into the class, I felt like I knew a good amount about love," says Jade Bacherman. "But now I'm realizing that there's a lot more to learn."

"I don't think we're prepared to know what a healthy relationship looks like," says Lisa Winshall. While kids get instruction on things like consent and sexual violence, she says they desperately need more coaching "on a much deeper level [about] what really taking care of someone else means."

It's exactly what Harvard Graduate school of Education Senior Lecturer Rick Weissbourd has found. His recent research shows young people are struggling with how to conceive of romantic relationships, let alone how to actually navigate them. "It's a deep underlying anxiety," he says, "so they're looking for wisdom." And it's not enough to just give them "disaster prevention" kinds of sex ed classes, that only deal with pregnancy, STD's and sexual violence, he adds.

"I think we are failing epically to have basic conversations with young people about the subtle, tender generous, demanding work about learning how to love," he says. According to his data, about 70 percent of young people crave those conversations.

For them, the motivation may be a more fulfilling love life. But Weissbourd says the societal stakes are high; healthier relationships, he says, will pay dividends on all kinds of social ills, from sexual harassment and domestic abuse, to depression and alcoholism.

Relationships beyond Snapchat

Another school that's trying to answer the call is The Urban school, a private high school in San Francisco. Health teacher Shafia Zaloom says she too was alarmed by teens' social struggles and their belief that they "can build relationships over Snapchat or Instagram." So she started a kind of "Dating 101" curriculum that covers things as basic as how to ask someone out. In one recent class, students brainstormed out loud.

"Like 'Do you want to, like, go see a movie some time?'" suggests Sophomore Somerset Miles Dwyer with a nervous giggle.

"Yeah," Zaloom nods, but then reminds the student to add "with me" at the end of the question, "to clarify things, because it's not like 'Oh, come hang out with us' and chill with the group." When you say "with me," she explains, "that communicates more clearly your intentions that you want to be spending time together and getting to know each other."

Zaloom's course also tutors the kids on everything from how to break up to how to take things to the next level.

In one lesson they critique Hollywood love scenes. "That's totally unrealistic," says Miles Dwyer, as multiple romantic kisses and dreamy declarations of love unfold seamlessly, over a dramatic musical soundtrack . It all unleashes a slew of confessions about how much more awkward their own encounters usually are, and how insecure that makes them.

"On TV, the awkwardness isn't there," says Dominic Lauber. So when things don't go as smoothly "in your real life, it feels like you're doing something wrong," he says. "So it could just feel like something you'd want to avoid. Kids nod and snap their fingers in agreement.

"Yeah, that's definitely a fear," says Abby Tuttle. "It's all about vulnerability."

Pushing through awkwardness

Boston College Professor Kerry Cronin says the insecurity and aversion to taking risks persist, so even the older students she sees on campus, still struggle with basic dating protocol. "You know they're really just sort of numskulls about basic social steps," she says. "They really aren't sure how to handle themselves."

It's exactly why she now gives students a homework assignment — in an introductory Philosophy and Theology course — to actually ask someone out, in person.

"It's mostly about pushing thru awkwardness," Cronin says, "and finding out that even if you get rejected isn't going to kill you. Because [this generation is] terrified of failure. And resilience is a major issue."

Data is hard to come by, but anecdotally, private schools seem more apt than public schools to expand the usual "reading writing and 'rithmatic" to also include romance.

"Our teachers are already burdened enough," says Ashley Bever, a public school substitute teacher and mom in San Diego. She says educating kids about love should come from parents, not schools, especially given how schools have handled sex ed.

"I mean they talked to middle schoolers about flavored condoms,'" she says. "It's just too much too soon. So, no, I just don't trust the institution to do it correctly."

Indeed, G-rated discussions are not likely to be any less controversial in schools than the old-school X-rated ones says Jonathan Zimmerman of University of Pennsylvania Graduate School of Education. He agrees that the instruction is critically needed, but he says "we shouldn't pretend that we have anything like agreement on these subjects."

"Frankly, it's a lot easier to get consensus on the sperm and the egg than it is on lust vs. love," he says. "These are issues of values and ethics and culture, and in a country that is so irreducibly multicultural, we should expect there to be profound controversy and disagreement about this approach."

Ideally, Harvard's Weissbourd says, the lessons should come from school and home. And while many parents may think their kids don't want to hear it from mom or dad, Weissbourd's research shows they actually do.

As Professor Cronin put it, this generation was raised by helicopter parents — they expectto be coached on everything.

Copyright 2020 NPR. To see more, visit https://www.npr.org.

Tovia Smith is an award-winning NPR National Correspondent based in Boston, who's spent more than three decades covering news around New England and beyond.