Watching technology change through a child’s eyes

The unveiling of the iPad this week was interesting more for the furious reaction at what it didn't have, rather than what it could do. But what also struck me is how the speed of technological development has affected our lives and will affect our children's in a completely different way.

As an almost 40-something, I grew up with the arrival of the first affordable home computers. I was there at the dawn of a new age, when home computing for the masses meant the wonder of the rubber-keyed ZX Spectrum or the less-exciting Commodore 64 (well, in my world anyway); the ability to write your own – pretty shoddy – computer programs using BASIC; and the fun of playing games like Jet Set Willy or Daley Thompson's Decathlon.

Then of course, there was the advent of video recorders, enabling people to tape a TV programme if they were out, or – wonder of wonders – there was something else more interesting on the other channel. God help you, though, if you didn't keep a note of what was on which tape and then Mum recorded over that all-important episode of Top of the Pops with Blondie singing Atomic on it.

The advance of technology felt quite amazing, but let's face it, it wasn't exactly quick. People held onto the same video players and TVs for decades, almost. I remember the only reason we upgraded from a record player and separate radio in our house was because I won a Fisher portable stereo at a local fete – the height of sophistication! 

Now I look at my kids, though, and I'm amazed at how things have changed in the last 30-odd years and how things that seemed like science-fiction not so long ago are now bread and butter to today's youth. 

– Video calls using Skype seem like the most normal thing in the world, rather than an Arthur C Clarke invention. 
– Being able to watch live or already-broadcast TV in bed via an iPhone, rather than a clunky portable on the dresser, is commonplace for my 3-year-old daughter. 
– A friend's two-year-old son can't understand why his mum's phone doesn't work as a touchscreen, because he's so used to the iPhone's interface. 
– My 6-y-o asks me things like: 'Daddy, can you ask your phone how hair grows, please?' when we're out somewhere. Have encyclopaedias ever seemed less relevant?

My point is that digital technology is evolving at such a rapid rate that it almost makes more sense to watch how kids accept and deal with it, rather than making such an effort to process it for ourselves. 

Technology used to be an exciting addition to people's lives. When Mark Edgell up the road got an Atari, we all went round to watch the wonder of Pong. It was almost 6 years before I got my Spectrum and even then I was way behind all my mates, having had to cope with going round to their houses and playing with theirs, rather than hole up in my own bedroom.

Now, having digital technology at home is as essential as a table and chairs. My youngest has her own CD player, but she'll be the last generation for whom that's the norm. Equally her collection of DVDs is fast becoming obsolete with the ability to house hundreds of TV shows and films digitally on hard drives, rather than deal with the fiddly nature of opening and shutting a drawer.

I actually think the commonplace nature of technology will actually lead to a revolution in non-technological skills and professions. Forty years ago, my mum was employed as a typist for the Greater London Council (GLC) and was got a pay rise because she could type so fast. Now, you're looked at as some kind of weirdo if you can't operate a keyboard and computer. 

Consequently, skills that have nothing to do with technology will become more important. The likes of plumbers, carpenters and electricians have already seen their stock rise and there's no reason to believe that won't change as today's kids eventually the job market.

After all, although technology will still continue to evolve, the skills and advances that are being made now won't be required in 15-20 years time. And, as climate change continues to dominate the world agenda, there's every chance that digital technology will be viewed with increasing suspicion.

I'll be watching the change – through my daughters' eyes – with great interest.

Posted via email from Rob’s stream of web

Scary album covers

via yasviridov.livejournal.com

This Russian blogger has amassed one of the scariest collections of record sleeves I’ve seen in a while.

This one looks like Jimmy Hill.

And god knows what sort of music this is!

And as a Russian speaker, I can tell you he is genuinely making fun of them – not holding them up as beacons of design.

– Enjoy the whole collection

Posted via web from Rob’s stream of web

Do we ‘really’ never get a chance to read any more?

Reading is a joy. It allows you to retreat into yourself and conjure up your own images, without them being beamed directly at you. 

It doesn't matter if you're reading Archer or Zola, reading is good for you in so many ways. 

So I was intrigued to see an article on the Guardian website that states that 'time for serious reading appears to be getting more and more pinched'.

The author claims that no-one really reads the likes of War & Peace any more, because there's too much stuff going on in their lives – in other words, we're being bombarded by media all day and can never switch off.

But is that really the case? Do people genuinely not have time to read because they're spending so much time on the internet, watching TV or playing computer games?

In my experience, if you've been brought up reading, then you'll carry on reading. Certain people may sniff at the likes of Dan Brown and JK Rowling for not being well-enough written, but at least they encourage people to read. 

It doesn't matter if it's trash (and that's not a pejorative use of the word) or high-art, books are books. If you're reading fiction especially, reading means you switch off from everything else and go into your own world – and there's nothing wrong with that. 

Back to the Guardian article and the author discovers countless books that he hasn't managed to finish. He's naturally horrified by this and wonders:
 
How could it be that someone who loved fiction enough to study it at Masters level, teach it, and then go on to write it for a living had become so distracted from the garden of literature?

And here's where he's missing the point. He seems to lay the blame squarely at the foot of the emerging world of technology.

But that's surely a convenient excuse. We all know the feeling when we get totally immersed in a book and can't put it down till it's finished. It's the same feeling when you find a great TV show that you like and you want to buy the box-set and watch it from start to finish.  

If people aren't doing that with books, it's because the writing just isn't good enough. If you don't like a TV programme, you tend not to bother watching it all the way through. You switch over or switch off. 

If you don't like music, you find something else to listen to. Why should books be any different? I know I haven't got time to waste on a book that's not engaging me, because there are so many out there that I haven't tried yet. 

You don't win any medals for ploughing through War & Peace, just because it's an acknowledged classic. And anyway, no-one else has read it anyway, so you can't exactly have a decent conversation about it, can you? 

Posted via email from Rob’s stream of web