Reprogramming the Robot Generation (Hopefully)

Reprogramming the Robot GenerationJaune

0:00

Kids these days spend so much time in their rooms, you’d think they were in witness protection. They drown out their inner voices with electronics and just keep moving—no reflection, no processing, just vibes.

When people meet my daughter, they always say she’s “so mature” or “wise beyond her years.” I joke that she’s the most advanced AI ever created—a real-life Small Wonder. In all seriousness, her ability to learn, reflect, and generalize lessons blows my mind. I credit her natural talents, our open communication, and, of course, my strategic limits on distractions (yes, technology too). She gets access when needed—projects, research, fun—but I make sure there’s time for self-reflection and deep conversations. And no, it’s not some structured lecture series. These moments are totally impromptu—I just step in when I see the need.

Quiet Time = Self-Reflection

When my younger kids were diagnosed with autism, we packed up, moved somewhere with zero friends or family, switched schools, then went back to virtual school (for reasons I won’t bore you with, or I’ll lose my ADHD readers). My daughter and I spent a lot of time together. And people kept complimenting her ability to self-reflect. That got me thinking: What makes her so good at this?

Turns out, three things:

1. Quiet time without tech

2. Real talk – Helping her process emotions without coddling

3. Modeling – And no, not the runway kind. She’s involved in my daily life, so whether I like it or not, I’m modeling social behaviors—how I handle people, stress, mistakes, everything.

   
   

Quiet Time: The Secret Sauce

It’s hard to reflect when you never have a moment to think. And quiet time isn’t just sitting in silence—it’s about using that time.

Example: My daughter got baited into gossiping, and drama exploded. Instead of just saying, “Ditch the friend,” I went full telenovela—DUN-DUN-DUN! Dramatic pauses, intense eye contact, the whole thing. I wanted her to feel the weight of the situation, to remember it for next time. “You’re not just learning this for today,” I told her. “You’re learning it so you don’t end up in this mess again.”

If she’s going to remember the lesson, she might as well remember it with some flair, right?

When We Butt Heads: A Different Approach

When we clash, I don’t just shut her down. Instead, I teach her that emotions are signals, not enemies. If we fight, we take a breather and revisit it later. I ask, How did you feel physically? Did you want to cry? Throw something? Did it feel like we’d never get along again? We break it down together—not just to process the emotions but to learn from them.

We analyze what triggered her feelings so she can recognize similar situations in the future, learn how to avoid unnecessary conflict, and, if needed, address it differently next time. But we don’t stop there—we also find healthy conclusions, helping her see that what felt overwhelming in the moment wasn’t as serious as it seemed. This way, she builds resilience and realizes that big emotions don’t have to mean big problems—they’re just part of the process of understanding and growth.

Now, thanks to years of my emotional intelligence boot camp (shoutout to me), she comes back with a full analysis of her feelings. I call that a win. At the end of the day, I just want her to understand: bad feelings aren’t bad—they’re signs that something matters. If it feels unresolved, it means she hasn’t gotten the right takeaway yet. And once she does? Boom. Lesson learned. No lingering drama.