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The world that’s coming has little in common with the one we grew up in. Far from the nostalgic, pessimistic approaches such statement usually triggers, I think this is, for the most part, a good thing.
This new format regards, for instance, traditional offices as obsolete, unproductive and utterly unnecessary. Classrooms might very well follow the example: if there’s one thing the pandemic taught us is that the entire universe is, ultimately, in our pockets, and the handed-down teacher is going to become, sooner or later, anachronistic.
Socialization won’t be, as some point out, sacrificed. We need to embrace the fact that today we socialize differently —not worse, not better, just differently—. Social media may get, at times, threatening, but for those of us who have actually dealt with flesh-and-bone bullies, this particular menace does not imply an unbearable deterioration.
Further, and thanks to all divisive politicians that have paved the way for civil apathy, the leaders of the future are unlikely to be bureaucrats. The future, the one we are fighting for, belongs to the doers, to the innovative, to the creative, to the rebel.
There is one condition, though, to make this new world livable: whatever reality we build, it has to come with more freedom. Such is our challenge.
Pris Guinovart is a writer, editor and teacher. In 2014, she published her fiction book «The head of God» (Rumbo, Montevideo). She speaks six languages. Columnist since the age of 19, she has written for media in Latin America and the United States // Pris Guinovart es escritora, editora y docente. En 2014, publicó su libro de ficciones «La cabeza de Dios» (Rumbo, Montevideo). Habla seis idiomas. Columnista desde los 19 años, ha escrito para medios de America Latina y Estados Unidos