Technology is the Reason Your Teen Talks Like That

Can you imagine life before language?

I can’t.

Strip away the ability to text, call, write, or even speak, and we’re left flailing to make ourselves understood. My daughter, a month shy of two, lives in that world — one of gestures and fragmented words, where communication is a puzzle rather than an instinct. Watching her play this endless game of charades, I’m struck by how far we’ve come in our quest to connect. 

Language, a gift we often take for granted, was once a miracle waiting to happen.

The Dawn of Expression

Picture it — tens of thousands of years ago, our ancestors sat around a fire, grunting, gesturing, maybe even laughing as they tried to explain the day’s hunt or share a bit of wisdom. Those early sounds and signs were primitive, sure, but they were also the beginning of something incredible: the idea that we could take the mess of thoughts swirling in our minds and offer them to someone else.

The exact moment of language’s birth is unknown but its fingerprints are everywhere: in the social cohesion of early hunter-gatherer bands or the first whispered lullabies to soothe an infant. But if spoken words drift away as soon as they’re uttered, how do you preserve them? The answer lay in the earliest prototype to the written word — cave paintings, in which prehistoric humans etched their lives into rock, marking the beginning of recorded history and, in a sense, the earliest social networks.

Fast forward from there to ancient civilizations: the Sumerians and Egyptians encoded meaning into cuneiform and hieroglyphics, ensuring ideas could endure beyond lifetimes. Writing evolved into a tool for law, trade, and storytelling, shaping the foundations of culture. For centuries, though, literacy remained exclusive, guarded by scribes and priests.

It wasn’t until Gutenberg’s printing press that this exclusivity began to shift. By democratizing access to the written word, the press ignited revolutions in thought and culture, bringing knowledge out of temples and courts and into the hands of ordinary people.

The 19th century brought the telegraph and telephone, collapsing distances like never before. Messages no longer needed to travel by horse or ship — they could leap across wires in moments. The telephone added dimension to communication, allowing people to hear each other’s voices even across vast distances.

Radio and television followed, connecting entire nations. Broadcasts like FDR’s fireside chats and the moon landing became shared experiences that shaped culture and brought the world into living rooms.

Then the internet redefined what it meant to be “connected”. Email, forums, and social media turned the global village into a sprawling metropolis. 

Today, communication is instant and ubiquitous, but in the endless scroll of curated moments, we risk losing the depth and authenticity that once defined connection.

The Challenge of Connection

Today, we are more connected than ever — at least on the surface. A simple swipe on a screen bridges distances, delivers information, and entertains. But is communication the same as connection? 

For me, this question feels more urgent than ever. My children are growing up immersed in a language that, at times, feels entirely foreign to me. Emojis, memes, and YouTube references form their vernacular. I still cherish the slow intimacy of handwritten notes and face-to-face conversations.

It’s strange because I didn’t grow up in the age of pen-and-paper correspondence either. My era was the dawn of instant messaging, the birthplace of “lols” and “brbs.” Maybe I’m just maturing into an appreciation of the slow and deliberate. Or perhaps it’s because I witnessed the transition from paper to platforms, when handwritten letters still lingered in the rearview mirror, growing smaller with each passing year. And what was once novel is now ubiquitous, making the old all the rarer — and more precious.

Take my nine-year-old, for instance. The other day, I asked him a question — what it was, I don’t even remember — and he responded with a flat-faced, “Bruh…” His tone was plucked straight from the meme-heavy world of YouTube, absorbed either through his own viewing or through osmosis within his social circle. It wasn’t just the words, though — it was the precise timing and delivery. 

He’s not just mimicking a specific piece of content; he’s internalizing an entirely different rhythm of communication. Memes like this shape how he punctuates jokes, reacts to others, and even deals with confrontation. 

It’s fascinating, but to truly understand him it’s like I need to learn a new dialect. And this gap isn’t anecdotal. Studies suggest that Gen Z and Gen Alpha are the most digitally fluent generations, with up to 75% of 8-10 year olds using at least one social media platform. 

The good news is that, for parents who straddle both the analog and digital worlds, there’s an advantage. We grew up before the rise of constant content and communication, which means we have the tools to better recognize the difference between healthy use and overuse. But for our children, this digital ocean is all they’ve ever known. They’ve never touched the shores of a world without notifications and endless distractions.

The question isn’t whether we should join them in navigating these waters — we’re already there — the question is whether we can help them learn when to dive in, when to step back, and how to recognize the value of anchoring themselves in moments of stillness.

Bridging the Divide

Bridging this divide is probably going to take a lot of intentionality, vulnerability, and curiosity. It might start with understanding that kids aren’t rejecting traditional forms of communication; they’re evolving them.

Let’s go back to my son. His go-to method for unwinding is YouTube, the modern equivalent of cable. But unlike my childhood, with its limited options, YouTube is a bit of a Wild West. In our home, we’ve decided to keep it in the living room where we can step in when parental controls fall short — and where we can share the experience with him.

The videos he watches range from what he calls “brainrot” — a steady stream of mindless memes — to captivating, educational deep dives into engineering, chemistry, astrophysics, and craftsmanship. And these aren’t interests I handpicked for him; they’re ones he discovered on his own, drawn in by curiosity and wonder. 

I’ve learned not to dismiss even the “mindless” content immediately. Beneath the surface-level chaos of a Skibidi Toilet episode or meme compilation is an opportunity to connect. After all, how can a child take advice seriously from someone who hasn’t even tried to understand their world? 

Of course, that doesn’t mean everything deserves equal approval. 

As parents, part of our role is to discern what’s harmlessly silly from what’s genuinely harmful. The goal isn’t to endorse every trend but to engage thoughtfully.

One of the most valuable things I’ve realized as a parent is that connection often starts with presence. Instead of pulling my son away from what he loves to focus on what I think is worthwhile, I’ll plop down and watch with him. Even in silence, this simple act speaks volumes. 

Not only does it lend me credibility when I share my thoughts later, it also gives us common ground. It’s fascinating how an Oddballs episode can spark conversations about government and elections, while a new meme has led to an entire series of inside jokes (ours currently revolve around Batman Cat and “mewing”). 

These take me from being a spectator in his world to a co-participant. And the vocabulary I acquire extends beyond my own kids, helping me to better interpret the wild and seemingly random exclamations of his friends, and my nieces and nephews. 

It’s a reminder that guiding children isn’t always about grabbing them by the wrist and dragging them where you think they should go — it’s often about offering your hand. The more you invest in what they love, the more willing they are to reach out and take it.

Data Meets Empathy

Research underscores the benefits of bridging these generational divides. People who have better family communication have better psychological health in face of adversity.

In my experience, my kids seem to feel more understood when I make the effort to meet them where they are — whether that’s hearing all about their favorite game or showing some measure of interest in a viral trend. Now, this may stink of a desperate attempt to be a “cool parent,” but let me be clear: you don’t need to fit in with your kids. Authenticity is far more effective. Focus on being genuinely curious and let them take the lead. This not only helps you understand their world but also shows them you value their perspective.

Of course, connection is not a one-way street — and the whole point of all this is to build that second lane. Share parts of your world, too. Invite your kids to try something you love or share your thoughts on your latest fascination — even if you think it’ll bore them. Often, they’re just as eager to bond with you — especially when you’re willing to take the first step.

As parents, we face the delicate challenge of guiding children toward more meaningful, deliberate connections. It’s one thing to send a text saying, “I love you,” but sitting down at the dinner table and saying it face-to-face reinforces the words with warmth and presence that no screen can replicate. 

We can’t fully cut our children off from the channels that permeate their worlds, but we can be a guiding light to help them balance the bombardment with the deliberate. Even the deeply educational content my son enjoys needs to eventually be shut off so he can step outside and make his own discoveries. 

Toward a New Fluency

If parents and children are speaking different languages, perhaps the solution isn’t to choose one over the other but to become bilingual. Parents can embrace the rapid-fire pace of digital culture while teaching their children the timeless power of slow, thoughtful exchanges. This isn’t about keeping up with trends. It’s about showing our kids that communication is a spectrum — from a quick and efficient text to the lasting impact of a heartfelt letter — and that every point has value.

So where does this leave us? Maybe the question isn’t whether kids and parents are growing apart in how they communicate, but whether we’re willing to use it as an opportunity to grow together. The tools will change, but the heart of communication remains the same: the longing to be understood. 

As parents, our job is to remind our children (and ourselves) that communication isn’t just the words we share: it’s the spaces we create to understand each other better. When we take that time — whether through a quiet moment watching a meme together or a heartfelt conversation about the things that matter — we might find that the gaps we fear aren’t gaps at all, but spaces where we can truly meet.

What Do You Think?

How do you connect with your kids in today’s digital world? What’s worked (or not worked) for you when it comes to bridging the gap between their world and yours? Let us know in the comments!