I have attended my school’s high school graduation ceremonies every year for the past 18 years. I particularly relished this year because for the first time in the past five years, it felt like a normal graduation “should” feel. First, there was 2020. Many schools did not have any in-person graduation ceremony in May of 2020. My nephew was in that senior year, and I was grateful to be able to attend his pared-down outdoor graduation, with graduates spread out across the football field 6 feet apart, and only 2 guests per graduate allowed to attend (the rest watched at home on a streaming channel). 2021 school had resumed for us, but my normal job as a greeter at the door was instead mask-enforcement, per the law at the time. 2022 our valley experienced a grueling year of a suicide epidemic. Over a dozen students died that year, and the graduation ceremony was marked by empty chairs set with memorials. I learned recently that same group has continued to lose peers to suicide as they navigate their 20s. A suicide epidemic is a cultural phenomenon that is multi-layered, and we are working with a local foundation on prevention and resources for support both within our schools and the broader community. There is much work to be done.
Jonathan Haidt’s recent book sheds some light on causes and solutions related to teen mental health as it related to technology use. The Anxious Generation: How the Great Rewiring of Childhood Is Causing an Epidemic of Mental Illness has been read by many school groups this year, and he can be heard on dozens of education and parenting blogs. Because I believe his research is so pertinent it should not be ignored, especially by those of us in professions and on the “front lines” of young adult mental health, I plan to share the most relevant information with my students to help them realize that we are in this together, and my classroom policies are built to benefit their health. As one of my favorite writers Maya Angelou said:
Take-Away #1: No phones beginning at the threshold of the classroom door. I will greet kids at the door and provide talking points at each table for guidance in how to navigate beginning conversations with acquaintances.
“When a conversation partner pulls out a phone, or when a phone is merely visible (not even your own phone), the quality and intimacy of a social interaction is reduced. As screen-based technologies move out of our pockets and onto our wrists, and into headsets and goggles, our ability to pay full attention to others is likely to deteriorate even further. It’s painful to be ignored, at any age. Just imagine being a teen trying to develop a sense of who you are and where you fit, while everyone you meet tells you, indirectly: You’re not as important as the people on my phone” (Haidt 122). Haidt provides a voice direct from the source: a college student. “Gen Z are an incredibly isolated group of people. We have shallow friendships and superfluous romantic relationships that are mediated and governed to a large degree by social media … There is hardly a sense of community on campus and it’s not hard to see. Oftentimes I’ll arrive early to a lecture to find a room of 30+ students sitting together in complete silence, absorbed in their smartphones, afraid to speak and be heard by their peers. This leads to further isolation and a weakness of self identity and confidence, something I know because I’ve experienced it firsthand” (Haidt 122-123).
Because students need the opportunity and guidance to converse and connect with one another, I will not allow phones to be used (or even visible) beginning from the threshold of my classroom. Now, given the fact that teens in a high school with allowed phone use are racking up tens of hours of screentime every day and picking up their phones to look at notifications over 100 times per day (per Common Sense’s Report A Week in the Life of a Young Person’s Smartphone Use), I would not assume the teenagers know how to interact if they don’t have access to at least pick up their phones out of habit and relieve some of the awkwardness in that initial silence. Thus, conversation starters will be provided, and we will cheesily practice how to engage in small-talk.
I will also be mindful of the social-emotional impacts of weaning teens off their phones one hour at a time. As in parenting, kids respond well and feel good when given boundaries. However, if they are accustomed to unfettered access to their phones and use them to soothe their anxious moments, I must ensure the classroom environment acknowledges and soothes their anxieties to counteract the strong desire to pick up the phone. Correction without connection will go nowhere in the high school reading classroom. I must be present each minute to connect with the students and show them that they are valuable enough to have conversations with. I move around to each table, conversing with students at the beginning of each class. And of course when we’re reading together, I sit directly at the table with them.
The Pew Research Center sheds further light on how teens feel when they’re removed from their phones:
“Teens encounter a range of emotions when they don’t have their phones, but we asked them about five specific ones. Roughly three-quarters of teens say it often or sometimes makes them feel happy (74%) or peaceful (72%) when they don’t have their smartphone.
Smaller but notable shares of teens equate not having their phone with more negative emotions. Teens say not having their phone at least sometimes makes them feel anxious (44%), upset (40%) and lonely (39%).
It is worth noting that only a minority of teens – ranging from 7% to 32% – say they often feel these emotions when they’re phone-less.”
The large majority of teens in my classroom deserve the opportunity to feel happy and peaceful, and the minority of teens who feel anxious or upset will learn to navigate through one hour at a time. It will be worth a healthier community.
OneTeacherOneBook 
Leave a comment