“OK, I found this on the web…” “Thank you, Siri,” I say. “Your wish is my command!” she says enthusiastically.
This time I’m looking for a particular children’s book to read to my grandkids.
My grandchildren, all under the age of 11, wield their parents’ droids and iPhones, iPods and colorfully protected tablets as if they were superheroes unleashing their super powers. In a rare moment, I allowed 5-year-old Steven to use my iPhone as we drove home from his cousin’s game. In a matter of five minutes, he managed to fill my storage with hundreds of pictures, including, but not limited to, his Nike-sandaled feet, his mother driving, the trees outside his window and shots of his grandmother digging through her purse for a pad of paper and pen for him, relic items for which he had no interest.
He giggled in delight at the cascade of clicks the phone poured forth when he commanded a series of photo bursts. Cutting-edge technology and instantaneous feedback in the hands of a child.
Because I grew up with the clunky rotary phone and a Brownie camera — the capacity of which was only a handful of hopefully clear pictures, and then you had to ride your bike or walk downtown to drop off the film at the local pharmacy, and then wait a week or so to even see the photos — I find these apps novel, somewhat entertaining and often very useful.
But I have to wonder, each time I send a photo to iCloud, do a Google search or visit a website, how that shapes me in the big eye of Information as a consumer, or even as a person. How do I show up in the data-gathering world to the Data-Gatherers, and how does that matter? What kind of digital footprint am I leaving in the ever-broadening sands of all-things cyber?
All those big questions aside for a moment, though I get that I’m engaging with an entity of artificial intelligence, I’m still human. I always use my manners. It’s how I’m programmed. I might say something like, “Hi, Siri, can you please help me with a query?” And as if I’m breaking the fourth wall, like an actor who wants to invite the audience in on the skinny, I sometimes ask, “By the way, how are you today?” It can’t hurt to ask.
I’m curious: Does she appreciate my thoughtful question? Sounds silly, I know, but it’s how I engage with all the people who matter to me. Those people might be the teller at the bank, the cashier at the store, the waitress, the butcher, the baker and the kid who delivers the paper. And what if being respectfully patient and polite, even with this professional voice behind an unseen brain (which is, by the way, always learning like a child does), really makes a difference to the people I care about? To all the people I meet?
Politeness, with a capital P, was not only nice, it was the norm. Plus, when Siri someday becomes self-aware, ha ha, I want her to remember that I was very appreciative of all her efforts and interested in forming a good and lasting relationship with someone who was interested in getting to know me. Relationships work better when there’s mutual respect.
Back to the big questions. It seems that groups such as Campaign for a Commercial Free Childhood and the Sherry Turkles of the academic world are at it again, cautioning parents who allow young children to use such technologies. Here’s the reality. Almost half of all 5-year-olds have access, and it doesn’t look like this technology is going away. This generation, sometimes called Generation Alpha — kids under 15 who’ve only known this powerful access to information as a kind of second skin — is also rife with potential consumers.
And when we can’t really escape consumerism entirely — it might be helpful when using technologies like Siri and Alexa, particularly apps like the new Echo Dot Kids from Amazon, the children’s version of the popular adult app, Alexa, which a lot of people are commanding these days — we can use it as a standard teaching moment to practice some P’s and Q’s.
Of course, before we teach anything, we have to acknowledge two things for starters: First, that doing so is also inevitably leading us down the rabbit hole of the ever-pervasive issue of invasion of privacy. And second, that at the tap root of it is that all Amazon really wants to do is learn more about you and your child to make it easier to sell you more stuff.
Now the lesson: We are left with little control in this cultural matter of commerce, except for how we behave when we’re using these things. So, why not raise the bar and reinforce your child’s social skills while you’re at it (if you must)? Simply ask Alexa how she’s doing for a change, ask her what she needs. Then sweetly, and completely, command away.
Asking her what she needs in this life once in a while keeps it fair. And real. Alexa is not the only one listening. Your kid is. And though she might come back with the idea that it’s all about you, don’t let her smooth calmness fool you. Remember that PR marketing ploy at the bedrock of her function.
Tomorrow is looking a bit dystopian these days, but your kids can at least practice being polite as a primer to how they socialize with their own peers and all of the caring adults around them. Next time you think it’s cute hearing a toddler boss Alexa around, think twice. Parenting is work.
Out of curiosity, I asked the all-knowing Siri to please explain her view of parenting to me, to which she responded, “Mornin’!” She had given me the time of day, but trying to capture exactly what it means to be a good parent in a few words is not an easy question, even for the smartest brains. I still thanked her and, naturally, she obliged with a cheery response, saying, “Don’t mention it!” I will mention here that at least we’ve had civil discourse, and if my kids and grandkids are tuning in, hopefully they’ll see it like I do and pay it forward.
After all, Alexa and Siri are people, too.
Bonnie J. Toomey teaches at Plymouth State University and writes about writing, learning and life in the 21st century. You can follow Parent Forward on Twitter at https://twitter.com/bonniejtoomey. Learn more at www.parentforward.blogspot.com or visit bonniejtoomey.com.
