Last July, I let my 7- and 9-year-olds stay in my air-conditioned car on a sweltering day and let them play games on my iPad. When I returned from my errand 20 minutes later, the air conditioner was out and the children were showing signs of heat stroke. They didn’t even notice, let alone take off their seatbelts and open the door.
An important lesson is to never leave your child alone in the car, no matter what. But I also brought up one more thing. My kids would rather die than be disconnected from the screen.
Given the impact that electronic devices have on my children, I wonder if the Surgeon General is not doing enough to call for warning labels on social media, just like they do with cigarettes. The screens themselves are like zombies, sucking out children’s brains.
A child can be seen looking at an iPhone. A child can be seen looking at an iPhone. Matt Cardy/Getty Images
Like all parents, my husband and I have tried to set boundaries. We used timers and alarms. Devices are not allowed during dinner or bedtime. We’ve fumbled our way through parental controls.
But none of them really worked.
The iPads we bought for our kids during coronavirus have remained their constant companions. They carried it around on its fancy plastic handles, like Christopher Robin holding onto Pooh’s paws. In between designated times to use the app, they waited on the couch like travelers at a train station to pass the few minutes until screen time. If they exceeded the alarm, as was almost always the case, they offered no protection. They just looked down in shame and I watched their fragile towers of self-esteem crumble.
I also hate how screens have changed my parenting. Screens require us to monitor our children: monitor content, monitor compliance, and constantly renegotiate rules. I’ve read that in order to draw the audience into a flashback, whatever happened in the past has to be much more compelling than what’s happening in the story in the present. Similarly, screens force me to reach the heights of my Olympic creativity to provide my kids with something more interesting than a Mr. Beast video. Even if you succeed, your victory will be short-lived.
So last summer we left our devices behind. At the last minute, I put my iPad in the closet and boarded a plane to Mexico empty-handed.
Dear reader, let me tell you, it was great.
Without the technology to save them, the kids were forced to climb what my son calls the “boredom wall.” They turned their bedroom into a fortune-telling shop and charged me and my husband a penny to tell our future. They invented a meaningless language and kept talking on fake phones. On rainy days, they made a comic about poop and danced around with their underwear on their heads.
Yes, it got a little rough at times. But overall, not having screens has made parenting easier. This was a result I could not have predicted at all. Some of the elusive energy of dissatisfaction I was used to was gone. Children’s attention spans have increased and their patience has increased. They learned solitaire. They read chapter books. One day, I realized I hadn’t looked at my son for over an hour and found him outside picking up lemons and throwing them in the air. He seemed perfectly happy.
I believe our success was due to our scorched earth strategy. We weren’t just away from our screens. We left them in another country. And since we didn’t know anyone else in our remote village in Mexico, there were no screens for other kids either.
To be fair, some parents are more successful with moderation than abstinence. Danny Mercer, vice president of the National At-Home Dad Network, uses Alexa to broadcast playlists to guide kids through their morning routines. He introduces them to their devices to answer questions and encourages them to download apps that foster both independence and curiosity. He also pulls the plug at the first sign of moodiness.
I admire Mercer’s approach and think it might work for other tech-loving parents who enjoy finding ways to utilize screens for creativity and connection. Masu. But I’m not that parent. To be honest, my husband and I primarily use screens to keep both our kids and ourselves focused.
So what did we do after a near-death experience in a hot car and an epic month without screens? We welcomed the iPad back into our lives.
They returned an hour before school, delayed getting the children dressed, and prevented breakfast. They returned in the afternoon to help the children recover from their learning. There were screens in the classroom too. My daughter’s 4th grade teacher had to keep the device in a locked cupboard, but that day the teacher forgot to give the key to her substitute, so the children was scratching at the door and crying.
In our home, screens have regained their place as both carrot and stick, a reward for good deeds and a pleasure to withhold in order to be exploited.
A few weeks ago, that is, until someone broke into our car and stole our iPad. I swear it wasn’t me. But once the tears and hand wringing subsided, I noticed that the conversation in the house had changed. Now, it doesn’t matter how many hours of screen time kids are allowed during summer vacation. The question is, given the significant drawbacks and modest rewards, why should children have them in the first place?
Kelly J. Kelly is a Fellowship Coach for the OpEd Project.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own.
