You won't be a hacker, son!
I am the happy father of three children, who have now grown up. It's a long time since I wrote this post about the opening of my daughter's Skyblog...
The eldest is now in the fifth year of medical school, the second is in business school. And the third one's in high school this year. So I still have a teenager at home: -)
I tried to raise my children as best I could. I accompanied them to the school, first to the front of the gate, then dropped a hundred meters before. I encouraged them in their sporting and cultural activities. I tried to pass on values to them.
Finally, to tell the truth, I was above all my wife's assistant who took on most of the mental burden of the family organization... But hey, at least I was there. I always am.
My main role is to be the "scientist" of the family unit, in charge of the digital tools: computers, backups, network, Internet access, messaging, shared printer, scanner, shared storage, privacy, security, troubleshooting, data recovery, wifi, DHCP, DNS not liars, game consoles, etc.
As for the follow-up of the lessons, I am the bad cop of the couple (in the sense of the good/bad cop strategy), the one whose eyebrow is feared to be raised in case of a bad grade. Strangely enough, none of my children like to ask me for help in explaining an obscure point of the math, physics, or English, or life science class:"In fact, you're explaining too long. We just want the answer to the problem, you explain the whole theory to us and make sure we understand everything... It's heavy."
Being passionate doesn't just have advantages; -)
That's why I've been thinking for a long time that none of my children will be passionate about what I love: computers.
Yet, last night, my son told me at the table the next thing:
"Dad, can you explain the motherboard to me?"
Me:"..."
He:"Because my boyfriend, he told me that to be even better in video games, I would have to go on the computer rather than the console, and that I would have to disassemble my computer to tamper with it. You agree to help me?"
In my head, some kind of nuclear explosion happened. My heart stopped beating and then went wild at 200 bpm. My hands got sweaty. I saw one of my children enter the Grail, become the master of the world, and rule over the blue-denied. Finally, the flesh of my flesh would help HAL and the Master Main Control to overcome their inhumanity to join Andrew, the 200-year-old man.
I met my wife's eyes and she radiated happiness to me.
That's why my answer threw a frosty cold:"No".
My face was closed. Was I aware of the immense task that remained to be accomplished in order to reach the top of my discipline? Or the overwhelming face of ubiquitous computing in our more truly private-private lives? Was I going to let my innocent son participate in the digital debauches that are announced in all the objects that will encircle us?
NO.
I let a few seconds go by. My wife looked at me with a sorry look. My son was in great distress.
I had just passed my most beautiful father joke of the week.
In my family, fathers have an extraordinary sense of humour, but that only makes them laugh. The devastating horn blow in front of the college gate. The subtle wordplay in front of the children's friends. In short, what we call in our little circle, a "father joke".
KrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrKRKRKRKRKRKR
hahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHA (risus sardonicus)
EVIDENTLY, it is with great pride that I will teach my son to dismantle his computer, improve it, tinker with it, hack it.
You'll be a hacker, son!
I am the happy father of three children, who have now grown up. It's a long time since I wrote this post about the opening of my daughter's Skyblog...
The eldest is now in the fifth year of medical school, the second is in business school. And the third one's in high school this year. So I still have a teenager at home: -)
I tried to raise my children as best I could. I accompanied them to the school, first to the front of the gate, then dropped a hundred meters before. I encouraged them in their sporting and cultural activities. I tried to pass on values to them.
Finally, to tell the truth, I was above all my wife's assistant who took on most of the mental burden of the family organization... But hey, at least I was there. I always am.
My main role is to be the "scientist" of the family unit, in charge of the digital tools: computers, backups, network, Internet access, messaging, shared printer, scanner, shared storage, privacy, security, troubleshooting, data recovery, wifi, DHCP, DNS not liars, game consoles, etc.
As for the follow-up of the lessons, I am the bad cop of the couple (in the sense of the good/bad cop strategy), the one whose eyebrow is feared to be raised in case of a bad grade. Strangely enough, none of my children like to ask me for help in explaining an obscure point of the math, physics, or English, or life science class:"In fact, you're explaining too long. We just want the answer to the problem, you explain the whole theory to us and make sure we understand everything... It's heavy."
Being passionate doesn't just have advantages; -)
That's why I've been thinking for a long time that none of my children will be passionate about what I love: computers.
Yet, last night, my son told me at the table the next thing:
"Dad, can you explain the motherboard to me?"
Me:"..."
He:"Because my boyfriend, he told me that to be even better in video games, I would have to go on the computer rather than the console, and that I would have to disassemble my computer to tamper with it. You agree to help me?"
In my head, some kind of nuclear explosion happened. My heart stopped beating and then went wild at 200 bpm. My hands got sweaty. I saw one of my children enter the Grail, become the master of the world, and rule over the blue-denied. Finally, the flesh of my flesh would help HAL and the Master Main Control to overcome their inhumanity to join Andrew, the 200-year-old man.
I met my wife's eyes and she radiated happiness to me.
That's why my answer threw a frosty cold:"No".
My face was closed. Was I aware of the immense task that remained to be accomplished in order to reach the top of my discipline? Or the overwhelming face of ubiquitous computing in our more truly private-private lives? Was I going to let my innocent son participate in the digital debauches that are announced in all the objects that will encircle us?
NO.
I let a few seconds go by. My wife looked at me with a sorry look. My son was in great distress.
I had just passed my most beautiful father joke of the week.
In my family, fathers have an extraordinary sense of humour, but that only makes them laugh. The devastating horn blow in front of the college gate. The subtle wordplay in front of the children's friends. In short, what we call in our little circle, a "father joke".
KrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrkrKRKRKRKRKRKR
hahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHA (risus sardonicus)
EVIDENTLY, it is with great pride that I will teach my son to dismantle his computer, improve it, tinker with it, hack it.
You'll be a hacker, son!
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