Are Our Children Addicted to Cellphones?

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Abstract

es can wait. They look at me as if they don’t believe me. I tell them that my phone is always off during school hours, but they are not impressed.Students start the first section. Some are serious and concentrate on the questions. I told them that this test is important. The scores will go to actual colleges and can earn actual scholarships. One student, however, is busy breaking his No 2 pencil into tiny pieces. He needs another pencil, he says, and I provide one. Later I see that pencil again, broken into tiny pieces.I find out after testing that this junior has earned only 10 credits in high school so far. Perhaps this test really holds little value for him, but our state is making the SAT the new graduation requirement.During the first break, there is a moment of joy when I tell students that there won’t be an essay. “No essay,” a student shrieks with excitement. I remember her from summer school two years ago.After the last test, some of the more serious students bubble in the optional sections that make it easier for college to contact them. The other students look at them, annoyed. Several students are eying the storage area.One student provocatively holds up her answer sheet and

Options

test booklet while starring at me. She wears a coat to school every day regardless of the season and temperature. Students begin talking, and the noise level increases.Finally, it is time to collect the booklets. As soon as everything is back in the bin, I open the storage and tell students they can get their phones. The classroom changes to a beehive with immediate frenzied activity. One student almost knocks over a desk trying to get there first. I remind students to stay six feet apart, but they don’t hear me.Soon every student is back in his/her seat. The room is silent. “Did the president leave a message?” — They ignore me, eyes glued to phones, fingers flying over the keys. They must all have received some very important messages that need an immediate response. Students are so engrossed that I have to remind them it is almost time for lunch.After they wipe their desks off, they walk out, still looking at their phones. Five hours without access to the phone must have been torture.My phone is still off. I guess I am of a different generation and just don’t get the appeal. At least I am not addicted to my cell phone, and I am sure that no president will ever leave me a message.</article></body>

The stampede to my storage area

It’s that time again. I finish my seating chart, set up my classroom, and here they come. “Bags in the front of the room,” I say, “and take your phones, wireless headphones, and apple watches over there to the open storage area.” I add that I will lock the storage and their phones will be safe.

By now students should know the drill. They have taken the PSAT before and practiced for the SAT with Khan Academy and College Board practice exercises. They know what to expect. Still, one student complains. “But I want to listen to my music.” A few students hang on to their phones until the last possible moment.

I tell them if the president calls and offers them a job while they are taking the SAT, I will tell President Biden personally why they couldn’t take the call. All other messages can wait. They look at me as if they don’t believe me. I tell them that my phone is always off during school hours, but they are not impressed.

Students start the first section. Some are serious and concentrate on the questions. I told them that this test is important. The scores will go to actual colleges and can earn actual scholarships. One student, however, is busy breaking his No 2 pencil into tiny pieces. He needs another pencil, he says, and I provide one. Later I see that pencil again, broken into tiny pieces.

I find out after testing that this junior has earned only 10 credits in high school so far. Perhaps this test really holds little value for him, but our state is making the SAT the new graduation requirement.

During the first break, there is a moment of joy when I tell students that there won’t be an essay. “No essay,” a student shrieks with excitement. I remember her from summer school two years ago.

After the last test, some of the more serious students bubble in the optional sections that make it easier for college to contact them. The other students look at them, annoyed. Several students are eying the storage area.

One student provocatively holds up her answer sheet and test booklet while starring at me. She wears a coat to school every day regardless of the season and temperature. Students begin talking, and the noise level increases.

Finally, it is time to collect the booklets. As soon as everything is back in the bin, I open the storage and tell students they can get their phones. The classroom changes to a beehive with immediate frenzied activity. One student almost knocks over a desk trying to get there first. I remind students to stay six feet apart, but they don’t hear me.

Soon every student is back in his/her seat. The room is silent. “Did the president leave a message?” — They ignore me, eyes glued to phones, fingers flying over the keys. They must all have received some very important messages that need an immediate response. Students are so engrossed that I have to remind them it is almost time for lunch.

After they wipe their desks off, they walk out, still looking at their phones. Five hours without access to the phone must have been torture.

My phone is still off. I guess I am of a different generation and just don’t get the appeal. At least I am not addicted to my cell phone, and I am sure that no president will ever leave me a message.