When I interviewed a highly accomplished engineer recently, he pooh-poohed his achievements, saying they were nothing remarkable. Not long afterward, I interviewed a woman who served in the Armed Forces decades before it was common for women to do so. She too brushed off any suggestion that what she did was notable.

The engineer is in his late 80s and the retired Marine is 90. My conversations with them were still fresh in my mind when, a couple weeks ago, a 17-year-old sent me his resume. How differently the generations seem to feel about blowing your own horn!

To be fair, the young man didn’t send me his resume for no reason. Every year, I volunteer to interview a few high school students who have applied to the university I graduated from, and I had emailed him to set up a chat. But when his reply had a c.v. attached, I was taken aback. What could possibly be in a 17-year-old’s resume?

Lots, as it turns out. Some quite impressive achievements in academics, athletics and volunteer service. When his church group traveled to China, for instance, he served as tour leader and translator—at 16. Getting into college is particularly competitive these days. In showing me what he’s got to offer, he was doing only what thousands of other eager applicants do. When my daughter was applying for college a few years ago, I encouraged her not to be shy about listing all she had done on the application forms.

Still, I couldn’t help but notice the striking contrast. Our young people have a lot to offer, and they seem to accomplish a lot more, a lot earlier in life, than the generation right before them, namely mine. But it’s a shame that those in their 80s and 90s don’t get to bask a bit more in the glory of all they’ve done. I hope that deep down they do take satisfaction in what they’ve achieved. I hope their modesty disguises some quiet pleasure in their achievements.

They’ve earned it.