They’ve taken over our lives and we haven’t even realized it yet. We can’t wake up without them. We can’t walk to class, or drive to the mall without them. We can’t remember those great nights with greater people without them. They document every waking moment of our lives, and even sometimes what happens when we are asleep. If it’s not in your hand at this moment, then it’s probably somewhere within reach.
Our cell phones are destroying the way we interact with one another. Most apps were developed to enhance the conversations we have with others. They were intended to allow people to meet mutual friends or others with the same interests. But those visions have been taken advantage of. A split second of boredom opens Pandora’s box of Snapchat, Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, Tinder, Tumblr, and Pinterest – to name a few. Legitimate human interactions are slowly dwindling away to read receipts, likes and screenshots. Conversations are coming down to very direct questions with shallow answers. I hardly ever have conversations with my peers that go deeper than how excited we are for dinner. It isn’t that we are incapable of having in-depth conversations; it’s just easier to exchange information about what is going on in the world, and in our personal lives, through a screen.
Working at a daycare center really opened my eyes and made me realize how dependent my generation, as well as the generations following us, are when it comes to our phones and tablets. Without the world at our fingertips, we are lost. We need to know what everyone else around us is doing at all times. I am just as guilty as the next millennial and it’s a hard fact to accept – a fact I didn’t accept until after lunchtime in the life of an elementary kid.
The day at the center starts with free play, then we go outside. While outside, the kids are running around having a great and time, but occasionally came up to me and the other teachers asking when we were going inside. An hour or so later, we would line up and walk in for snack. After snack, the first question we always got was about electronics. When I first heard it, I said no. Why would these six and seven year olds ask for their electronics when there were things like buildings blocks, toys cars and a pretend house at their disposal? Why were they upset when I had said no? The other teacher walked up and told them no as well, and explained to me that they were allowed to play with their electronics after lunch and that they asked every single day if they could have their electronics. This still puzzled me. I watched from afar as they played with cards and their board games and puzzles. Soon, it was time to go back outside. The same kids asked the same questions about going inside and playing with their electronics -- it was almost like an addiction.
After lunch, a minimum of 15 of the 25 kids took out their electronics and the others sat around and watched them play games like Mario Kart and Minecraft. At least they were playing against each other so there was some interaction going on. There were a few of the younger kids, around five, that didn’t have electronics that asked me to play cards with them. That gave me some hope. The rest of the day was spent switching between playing inside and playing outside -- depending on the heat index that day. But they were addicted to their electronics in a way that seemed extremely unsettling. I went home that day and brushed it off as I tried to wrap my head around the idea that their actions were the new normal.
As I sat at home around my family, I thought more and more about the kids and their reluctance to part with their electronics. I tried to remember what I played with when I was younger. Hardly anything was electronic; our Barbie Easy Bake and the Barbie Jeep were about it. I would run around the neighborhood and through the parks. If I wasn’t building with the blocks, I was reading or doing puzzles. We talked about what we wanted to be when we grew up and about who’s turn it was to be it for tag that afternoon. We talked about who could draw the best picture and who was the fastest kid in school.
We didn’t talk about which track we should race on next. We weren’t glued to a screen. We didn’t argue about who got to play the video game next and how long their turn got to be. I took a second from my thoughts to look around my living room. My dad was watching Sports Center on the TV. My sister was multitasking between her summer assignments, Twitter, and Tumblr. My mom was either reading on her Nook, or going through her millions of emails. I was scrolling through Instagram and Snapchat on my own phone. Why weren’t we talking about our days? Why weren’t we laughing about the stupid little things we all did that day? Why were we staring at screens when the ones we love most in this world were sitting right next to us?
I thought about what it must have been like to be a teenager or young adult before the world was available at your fingertips. When news was mainly relayed to the public through newspapers, rather than on Twitter or Snapchat. Did people interact with each other more, or did they bury themselves in the sports and fashion sections? Did they talk to each other on public transportation, or in the parks, or did they simply raise their elbows to the point the newspaper or magazine could cover their face and, literally, block out their surroundings? Did they even read the newspaper or were they even more ignorant to the world around them than we are? How could they have possibly planned to meet their friends on a Saturday afternoon without group messages? What about family dinners? Growing up, I was at the dinner table when my parents called for me and if I wasn’t in earshot, I was home by 7:30 p.m. so I could hear the call. Now, if we aren’t in earshot we wait for the text or the three missed calls from Mom. How are family dinners going to be 10 years from now?
All of this makes me wonder and worry for the future generations’ social skills. When they aren’t explicitly forced to have physical interactions with one another, what’s going to stop them from leaving their room? Will kids 10 or 20 years from now even play outside? If I don’t see a jungle gym I will lose my mind. The courtyard was where we had races -- not our Gameboys or DS’s. The fields were where we played kickball and make-shift obstacle courses -- not in the living room on the Wii. The bedrooms and playrooms were where we pretended to be adults; building our own mini-homes together, having meals, and having families -- not Minecraft.
The age of electronics and technology is definitely a very exciting age to grow and thrive in, but there’s a fine line between dependency and convenience that has been crossed too many times.
