Screens and Growing Up A Generation Disconnected

It’s a thing you see, day in and day out, in a room full of kids trying to figure things out. Not just fractions or the difference between a noun and a verb, but *things*. The big things. Like, who they are, what they want, and how to get there. And lately, a lot of that figuring-out is happening with a phone glued to their hand.

I didn't think about it much when I first started. It just *was*. Kids staring down at little screens during recess, during transitions, sometimes even when I'm talking. It felt… normal. Like a permanent fixture in the room, right alongside the whiteboard and the worn-out rug. Then I started noticing the ways it wasn't normal. The glazed-over eyes. The fidgeting. The sighs when the bell rings and they have to put it away. The way a perfectly good conversation can be derailed by a notification.

Remember Michael? Sweet kid, always drawing superheroes in his notebook. He was falling behind in math, struggling with fractions, which is tough enough. But he also seemed… distant. Like there was a wall between him and everything else. His mom told me he was having trouble sleeping, too. I started keeping an eye on him and, sure enough, I’d see him under the desk during silent reading, thumbing at his phone. It wasn’t about the math, not really. It was about something else he was missing out on.

It’s not that phones are *bad*. I get it. They’re tools. They connect you to people, to information. My own cousin, down in South Jersey, he’s building a whole business with his phone. But there’s a difference between using a tool and letting it use you. These kids, some of them, they seem to be letting it. The pull of it, the constant notifications, the need to see what everyone else is doing… it’s a powerful thing. And it's competing for space in their heads, in their hearts.

We talk about time management in class, the importance of prioritizing. But how can you teach a kid about prioritizing when they’re constantly being pulled in a thousand different directions by their devices? It’s like trying to build a house on shifting sand. The math worksheets are still there, the science projects still need doing, but the energy, the focus… that’s getting scattered.

I've been thinking about how different it was when I was a kid. We had our own distractions, sure – Saturday morning cartoons, the latest video game. But there was a certain quietness to it all. A space to just *be*. A chance to make up stories in your head, to daydream, to really see the world around you. Those moments, those periods of quiet contemplation, I think they’re crucial for growing up. For figuring things out.

What can we do? I don’t have all the answers. Maybe it's about conversations. Honest, open talks with kids and their families about what’s happening, about how these devices are affecting their lives. Maybe it's about setting boundaries, even tough ones. My own mom always made us leave our phones in the kitchen at dinner. It wasn't always fun, but it meant we were actually talking to each other. Listening. Being present.

It’s a complex thing, this digital world we’re living in. And it's not going away. But I also know, from watching these kids in room 214, that they’re still craving something real. Something tangible. Something that can’t be found on a screen. It’s our job, I think, to help them find it. To create space for it. To remind them that there's a whole world out there, waiting to be explored. Without a phone in their hand.