Argumentative Essay: Talking To Teens

We came to a general consensus that it was a crazy idea to create a television show. It was unfeasible. Ludicrous. Downright preposterous.

So like all impossible things, of course it had to be done.

We were a motley crew, the nine of us, congregated in a room that suffered the inconvenience of a roasting June day. Assembled from an assortment of high schools in the area, we were green with inexperience and ripe with ambition. The closest any one of us had been to an Emmy Award was successful use of the iMovie app for an English project. I was exhausted of the hesitation, the stalemate in the decision of whether to proceed or abandon the project altogether.

I interjected the debate with my two cents.

“Talk is cheap.” I scrutinized my

Sponsored by our local community channel, episodes centered around typical issues faced by adolescents. Topics such as defining success, evaluating body image, and underage drinking were all on the table. Everything - from the lights and audio to the script to the acting - was to be done and performed by teens, for teens. We planned for debate panels to correspond to the episode’s theme. Should we lower the drinking age? What if we raised it? How do teenagers measure success? How do you achieve it? We planned for skits and parodies to put the issue in context. We planned for speakers and people who could attest to the challenges of peer pressure, how media influenced teenagers,

I distinctly remember my naivety that first day of shooting and my mantra of - set up, film, finish. I stopped saying it after filming one scene the fifth time. The dilemmas did not stop there. Schedules conflicted. We soon came to the realization that we only wore the mask of actors and producers. Instead, we were high school students who juggled homework, sports, and jobs.

I realized that the others’ lack of availability meant that I could no longer linger in the shadows. I had felt at ease leading from behind, letting others - who were more vocal - take the vanguard.

The comfort zone - I had been evicted.

One night during filming, we realized that the sound was not audible in the scenes we had spent hours filming. Our faces mirrored the question we were all thinking. What do we do now?

We were demoralized. Dejected. Ready to quit.

I was exasperated. Not by the lack of progress, but the unwillingness we had not to seek progress. That roasting June day, we had understood that it was to be a challenge. However, we refused to be challenged.

So during the next board meeting, I told them