I recently taught a filmmaking summer school course to a bunch of teenagers. On the second day of class, a particularly quiet kid raised his hand, “how do you get your YouTube videos to make money?” Even though it was pretty off-topic, I perked up as soon as he asked. Only three days earlier, a video of mine was approved for the YouTube partnership program and I went though a whole application process in order to share ad revenue (for which I have yet to generate a full 5¢, by the way). It was about as well-timed a question as anyone could have asked, the kind where you know the answer in such detail that no matter how you respond, you’re gonna sound smart. I practically pumped my fist in the air after he asked it.

I started by going through all the steps: first a video of yours has to get a certain amount of hits, then YouTube invites you to apply, if you’re lucky they’ll accept you, etc, etc. He looked perplexed by my exhaustively meticulous answer. Before I had the chance to backtrack and explain how YouTube works, he elaborated, “I ask because I have fifteen films sponsored, but I’m only making $15 a week. Most of my friends make double that. How do I get to that level?”

I pretty much stopped trying to sound smart after that.

In addition to re-establishing my humility, that incident made me reconsider my own time learning film as a teenager. Certainly, some things are still the same as back then. Television shows and blockbusters still dominate teenage culture. And still, only certain demographics truly have the luxury to learn filmmaking at a young age. But the differences are pretty glaring. Obviously, the technology is different; the tools are more advanced and more available than they were for my generation and prior ones. That’s not even considering how the Internet has changed the landscape. Until this past summer, however, I never realized exactly how the learning process has evolved.

I was fourteen when I weaseled my way into a film class for the first time. I remember feeling like I had a huge leg up because my father went through a brief super8 phase years earlier. But still, learning the technology, even the basic tools, was a trial. It was a huge deal figuring out how to work the dissolve function on my Chinon 60SMR. While I loved the process of physically cutting and taping a 8mm strip of celluloid, holy crap did editing take forever.

So much time was spent trying to experiment but being limited by the resources. It was frustrating and discouraging. After years of this, when I was much older, I gave up, really, keeping up with the technology. And it was only then that I learned how to make films. It was watching movies and focusing on theory that made me understand how to frame a shot, how to cut scenes together, the fun stuff. I started focusing less on the how and more on the why and when.

That’s what’s lucky about the next generation of filmmakers. They get to skip straight to the fun parts. I spent several days prepping a lecture about how to use Final Cut Pro because none of the kids had ever used it before. A third of the way through the lesson, I realized they were bored to tears. They had already figured out the program after five minutes and were anxious to use it. As much as I’d like to ascribe their sudden aptitude to superior teaching, I know that wasn’t the case. (I can take credit for the boring part, though) They were simply already acclimated to the technology, to the idea of editing software. Learning to use a new program was an intuitive process for them.

So, since there wasn’t a need for more instruction, they just started editing their films. Little by little, hands would shoot up, and they’d start to ask questions. Sometimes asking technical questions, but mostly not. Mostly, the kids would ask about why some scenes cut together and some didn’t, why certain shots told the story and others didn’t, why some jokes were funny live but not on video. And that’s when I got to teach filmmaking.

No matter how much money their YouTube videos make, they still want to learn how to make their movies better. No matter how acclimated to the technology they might be, they’ll still have their minds blown the first time they watch a film by Martin Arnold or George Kuchar. And as an occasional film instructor, I love that so many of these kids have a technical leg up and can forego the frustrating technical limitations because I also get to skip straight to the fun stuff.

Really, the differences between the current and previous generations are significant, but not ALL THAT significant. Kids are learning the same things and figuring stuff out the same way. They’re just doing it faster. And sooner. And I’ll bet their movies will be better because of it.

And damn it, that’s awesome.