Before today’s educational leaders, business owners, or even everyday taxpayers get too emotionally or financially invested in programs to help students prepare for the working world—ensuring they are, to borrow a favorite school-reform buzzword, "college- and career-ready"—maybe they should realize (or remember) that most kids just want to be kids while they still can. And if the policymakers can’t accept this reality, then maybe they should look for ways make adulthood more appealing or adolescence less luxurious. Until these fundamental motivational issues are solved, none of the country’s "college- and career-readiness" programs will reach their full potential.

Let me be clear—as an English teacher, father, and taxpayer, I’m often heartened by ideas and reforms that encourage schools to prepare their students for today’s working world. As a teacher, I’m excited by my school’s developing STEAM (science, technology, engineering, art, and math) program, and I love my department’s required career-research project. I base my instruction around the new Common Core standards. In fact, I just returned from an inspiring conference about another favorite buzzword: "Career Technical Education," or CTE. As a father, I want my daughter to be absolutely ready for college and a career; and as a taxpayer, I want the American workforce to be world’s best.

However, I can’t deny my direct observations. Most of the kids I teach love a good novel that’s written for, or at least about, high school students. But they drag their feet through their aforementioned career project, and they appear utterly bored when the counselors come to talk to them about so-called "college pathways."

Recently, several of my students were interviewed over Skype by a news producer who wanted their thoughts on a project I assigned in which they studied NPR’s Serial podcast instead of Shakespeare. I asked the producer if my students, in exchange, could ask her questions about her career, and she was happy to oblige. When it came time to talk, however, the kids simply weren’t very interested. I nudged my students—like an awkward matchmaker—toward asking about internship possibilities down the road, to no avail. Another adult in the room was visibly stunned by how cool and casual, disinterested even, the students appeared about being on the news, especially when compared with their excitement about each other’s Pinterest boards.

Similarly, anyone who thinks technology lessons are inherently interesting to every student might be disappointed. Just because the students love using their devices to connect with friends—sometimes to the point of obsession—this does not necessarily mean they want adults involved in their circuitry. In fact, maybe it’s just the opposite. Earlier this year, the staff at my school giddily advertised a "Bring Your Own Device Day" to help bridge the gap between modern technology and traditional education, but only about five of my 150 students brought devices they otherwise wouldn’t have. One of the teens explained to me, "We like using our phones and laptops for games and talking to each other, but we don’t really want use them for school."