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We fear young people’s boredom. We fear that, bored, they’ll do something dangerous or destructive or anti-social. So, quick! Find something to entertain them, something for them to do or they’ll start thinking, they’ll start reflecting on life, wondering about the point of anything, and then where will we be? Quick! Give them a purpose, a target, a challenge, a reason not to think too much….
Young people fear boredom themselves…. “I’m bored! I’ve got nothing to do!” Being bored is always someone else’s fault. One of young people’s fears is that “If I’m bored, I’ll be a boring person and then no one will be interested in me. I’ll lose my friends, I’ll be miserable for evermore and it’ll all be your fault because you’re not providing me with stimulation! You’re not making my life easier! You’re not making me happy!”
For many young people, “I’m bored!” is a complaint about uncertainty, about not knowing what’s going to happen next, about what should be happening next, about what’s worth doing next. Tolerating boredom, trusting that the feeling will pass means tolerating uncertainty rather than reaching irritably after fact and reason (as Keats has it) or reaching for a Play Station in the way that a baby, desperate to be fed, desperate to be stimulated, reaches for a nipple. Phillips (1993) argues that “the capacity to be bored can be a developmental achievement for the child” (p72) if it means becoming better at tolerating uncertainty, at learning to wait without expecting immediately to be fed.
Of course babies and small children need stimulation for good, developmental reasons. But I worry about those babies and small children over-stimulated by their well-meaning parents. Do they become the anxious teenagers I work with: desperate for food while becoming obese; spending large portions of the day battling imaginary forces on a screen; talking to friends for hours through social media for fear of…? For fear of invisibility and worthlessness, I suspect. For fear of being ordinary in a western society that only prizes whatever’s outstanding, inspirational, exceptional. What hope is there for a young person who feels ordinary? Who feels that she or he might be like everyone else? Who gets bored and sometimes doesn’t know what to do?
What if “I’m bored!” was really a philosophical enquiry rather than an accusation? What if, instead of suggesting things to do (“Done it! Tried that! Can’t do what you’re suggesting because you won’t give me any money!”), we joined young people in their enquiries? What if we saw boredom as a transitional experience, as an interesting lull? Then we might begin to talk with young people about how scary it is, not knowing what’s going to happen next. We might share our own experience of the panic boredom sometimes precipitates, of how addicted we can become to things new, unusual and exciting. We might wonder with young people about whether being able to be bored is a sign, not of being a boring person, but of maturity.
Reference:
Phillips, A. (1993) On kissing, tickling and being bored. London: Faber.
