Screens and Kids

“The defining issue for parenting in thirty years will be screen time.” – Dave

So this is a topic I’ve been reluctant to write about, for the simple reason that I don’t mean to guilt-trip anyone who regularly lets their kid look at or touch a screen. Which, as far as I can tell, is everyone I know. But it’s admittedly a topic Dave and I agree passionately about, which is why our kids don’t have screens, and don’t touch ours. They get occasional television, usually in thirty-minute segments, but that’s it. And we make a considerable effort not to be on our screens too much in their presence.

Obviously this makes us stick out. Research shows that children spend 2-7 hours/day in front of screens (U.S. Department of Health and Human Services; nonprofit Common Sense Media). Six month-olds spend half an hour a day on mobile devices, with a third of them swiping and tapping screens (Pediatric Academic Societies). Less than half the time kids aged 2-10 are in front of screens is spent consuming “educational” material (nonprofit Joan Ganz Cooney Center).

Why is screen time harmful? Four main reasons: one, early brain development is numbed. I’ve never seen a smartphone-told story, but apparently it spoon-feeds images and words in a way that doesn’t provide the stimuli required to form certain neural networks specific to the first three years of life. When an adult reads a book, the child is actively processing voice into words, visualizing complete pictures, exerting mental energy to follow the story line, in a way they do not when a smartphone does all the work for them.

Two, early screen time impedes ability to socially interact: to take in nonverbal cues, practice empathy, and recognize emotions (studies from UCLA and British Psychological Society). The frontal lobe just gets less practice interacting with a screen instead of a live person.

Third, studies show screens lead to a diffuse range of behavioral issues, including decreased focus and concentration, childhood obesity, and irregular sleep patterns. I found limited long-term studies, probably because this is a relatively recent phenomenon.

Fourth, touching screens is addictive. When a child touches a screen and gets an immediate response, it releases dopamine and teaches a child to prefer touch-screen interactions, where there is more immediate gratification and response, over real-world connections. It doesn’t take much conjecture to see how it would be harder for kids to break free of screen addictions if they’ve been conditioned to them since early childhood.

Certainly some programs can be educational—increase literacy or math skills—but our main question has been: what can a screen provide that I cannot? And I just don’t think there is much. Discussing letters with Elijah, having him trace them with his fingers, match them with flashcards, and any other real-life interaction is going to be as effective if not more so than putting him in front of a screen. Am I concerned they won’t be as savvy on a computer as their peers later in life? They may not be as familiar at the start, but I’ve no doubt they’ll learn fast, and the value of them not being already too-used to screens outweighs any risks I can think of.

In the end, we give our kids screens due to habit or laziness, or maybe our own addictions bleeding out into their lives. How many times have we missed our kids’ cues because we’re staring at a screen? How many times did you check your phone today (was any of it a real emergency)? Interrupted a real-life conversation to text someone else? Been tempted to text while driving? How many people do you see looking at their phones in a restaurant instead of each other?

There’s definitely a part of me that dreads navigating the “screenager” years with our kids. I remember as a teen feeling like my life was ending because I had a zit on my nose or someone gave me a look at school: throwing the capacity for hundreds of people to “like” or “un-like” something seems positively explosive. In a way, keeping our kids from screens now is an extremely simple thing to do. There’s always a book to read, something outside to explore, a toy to build with, a picture to color, or a play-story to act out. Our seven- and four-year olds comment about how they don’t have an iPad or kindle like everyone else, but they don’t seem to mind it. It’s just how it is, and they’re too preoccupied with playing to care. Guess I’m enjoying this stage while it lasts.

In Which I Sound Like A Dinosaur

So D is probably the most well-read he’s been since we’ve been married. He gets a handful of public news feeds. He follows his Facebook feed, populated by well-educated friends he’s acquired throughout his life who now reside all over the globe. He twitters for his health district. He’s been interviewed on a news station about what he’s learned in Washington and lobbied in Congress. I, on the other hand, finally got myself some alone time and went out to Barnes, where I picked up a “year in review” by TIME and found out there was this major security leak, that bad stuff is happening in Syria, and learned what a hashtag and a selfie is.

I don’t currently find motherhood a naturally communal experience. We still go to BSF, where I see some mothers, and I still have occasional play-dates with friends from church, but it’s all in the setting of relative chaos, and I don’t know anyone deeply enough to have meaningful discussions about the topics I think about these days: parenting styles and how they differ. How to improve the kid’s diets or try new foods. New parenting ideas like deciding not to brag about our kids, taking them out for regular dates, or whatever else we are processing. What we think about homosexuality. Finding friends after thirty. Toughing out ill-fitting clothes until the last ten or so pounds from the pregnancy are off. Whether it’s worth investing in the 529 college fund.

So D suggest I look into social media, since that seems to be a way a lot of folks are finding community these days. I did find a mommy blog (momastery.com) that had a great assortment of inspiring and humorous entries—sometimes it’s just great to read something and know you aren’t the only one who hates having to sing “one more” bedtime song when you’re feeling mad, or who recognizes that marriage isn’t all a cakewalk. D and I were inspired to consider blogging more.

But then I forayed more into tumblr and twitter and all that, and just got totally weirded out by how much meaningless stuff is out there, things that seem like a waste of time. And even getting into all this took the whole afternoon. As a person on the outside looking in, it seems odd how flippantly meaningful terms like “friend” and “like” are thrown around. It seems strange how a lot of social media breeds a culture of self-absorption that doesn’t seem entirely healthy.

Well, this probably all just makes me sound old. I remember when I didn’t see the point of texting, and now I text more people than I email (which is somewhat sad—I feel like we’ve lost the art of epistolary writing—or any writing at all). So who knows (though I do get chills thinking of our kids texting one day and am stubbornly keeping them from my iPad and into library books). I do enjoy this blog for what it is: not a bid to get a lot of readers or likes or pins or whatnot, but a reminder to put what I process onto paper occasionally, and a way to preserve for the future a snapshot of what our lives are like now.