"Technology-handling skills" and "the app gap" are catch phrases among early childhood educators these days. Low-income kids, the argument goes, are disadvantaged by inadequate exposure to tablets and other new technologies. But as Matt Richtel pointed out in the New York Times recently, children from low-income families spend more time handling technology—across platforms—than their wealthier counterparts, and across class, kids mainly use their "handling skills" for entertainment. They play games, watch videos, and visit social networking sites. There are documented gaps in the education of low-income children—for instance, in vocabulary and reading—but research shows that the time young kids spend with technology takes them away from activities known to be educational—hands-on creative play and interaction with caring adults.
"The digital divide" was coined in the 1990s to address inequalities in Internet access. Now it's used to push digital technologies on ever younger children. There are tens of thousands of allegedly educational apps on the market for preschoolers. The National Association for the Education of Young Children is working with Hatch, an ed-tech company, and the Fred Rogers Center to encourage the use of digital devices in early childhood settings. Every week we hear about some benefactor donating iPads to needy kindergarten classrooms. While there's scant evidence that anyone but the companies who make, sell, and advertise on these new technologies benefit from the time young children spend with them, there's plenty of reason to be worried about it. I certainly am.
I'm worried about studies showing that the more time children spend with TV and video games the less well they do in school and the more calories they consume. And the studies showing that the bells and whistles of electronic books actually detract from reading comprehension. And those demonstrating that time with screens changes the very structure of our brains. I'm worried that the skills we gain won't make up for our losses. I'm worried that screen-based reading, with omnipresent hyperlinks, interferes with comprehension and memory, and that heavy Internet use appears to encourage distractedness and discourage deep thinking, empathy, and emotion.
I'm especially worried about the addictive qualities of electronic media. The more time children spend with television before the age of 3, the more time they spend when they're older, and the harder time they have turning it off. I'm worried that fast-paced video games trigger dopamine squirts in our brains—kind of like cocaine. A few years ago, one survey of 8- to 18-year-olds found that almost one-quarter said that they "felt addicted" to video games.
And here's what worries me most: We're turning to the companies that profit from these technologies to help parents manage their kids' relationship with screens. While it's great that the Federal Communications Commission is launching a campaign to promote digital literacy, the fact that companies like Best Buy and Microsoft are funding it make it unlikely that weaning kids from their products will be a priority.
There's no question that technology is here to stay. Kids born today will experience wondrous technologies most of us can't even imagine. But the skills they will always need to thrive—deep thinking, the ability to differentiate fact from hype, creativity, self-regulation, empathy, and self-reflection—aren't learned in front of screens. They are learned through face-to-face communication, hands-on exploration of the world, opportunities for thoughtful reflection, and dreams.
Read more!
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Monday, May 7, 2012
My Failed Screen-Free Week
I failed miserably at Screen-Free Week. Alright, maybe not miserably. Here is the context: my husband Neal and I are home caring for our very new baby, Wes. He is our first child and the love of our lives, and he consumes just about every moment and every ounce of energy we have (just as he is supposed to). Every other day or so, Wes falls into a deep sleep in the evening and Neal and I giddily steal some time to watch an episode of X-Files. I had no idea how crucial this 45 minutes of “zone-out” time was to my new mother sanity until I tried to give it up for Screen-Free Week last Monday. I was hunting aliens with Mulder and Scully on Tuesday.
I was disappointed in myself. Last year my Screen-Free Week was a total success. So much so that my husband and I gave up TV altogether. Now we have a TV set and DVD player, and after Wes is asleep, we enjoy an episode of a television series or a movie on most nights. I realized when I tried to zero out my screen time how important this ritual is to me. It’s a tiny piece of our pre-child life that we carried over into parenthood, a little indulgence we can afford.
Of course when Neal and I are unraveling unexplained phenomena on the X-Files, cruising the halls of the White House on West Wing, or hanging out with the corner boys on The Wire, Wesley is fast asleep, dreaming baby dreams. He’ll enjoy a screen-free babyhood so his ideas, desires, and imagination can bud on their own without the influence of corporations that would prefer that he develop his early consumer identity. When I gaze into Wes’s endlessly trusting and curious eyes, it infuriates me to think about the companies that want to exploit his vulnerability for profit. I’ve never been prouder to work with Josh and Susan, our Steering Committee, and the thousands of advocates all over the world who are fighting for a commercial-free childhood.
I guess Screen-Free Week wasn’t a complete failure.In struggling with my own screen vices, I’ve done some reflecting and had some important revelations. And I did give up Facebook for the week; do I get partial credit?
Read more!
I was disappointed in myself. Last year my Screen-Free Week was a total success. So much so that my husband and I gave up TV altogether. Now we have a TV set and DVD player, and after Wes is asleep, we enjoy an episode of a television series or a movie on most nights. I realized when I tried to zero out my screen time how important this ritual is to me. It’s a tiny piece of our pre-child life that we carried over into parenthood, a little indulgence we can afford.
Of course when Neal and I are unraveling unexplained phenomena on the X-Files, cruising the halls of the White House on West Wing, or hanging out with the corner boys on The Wire, Wesley is fast asleep, dreaming baby dreams. He’ll enjoy a screen-free babyhood so his ideas, desires, and imagination can bud on their own without the influence of corporations that would prefer that he develop his early consumer identity. When I gaze into Wes’s endlessly trusting and curious eyes, it infuriates me to think about the companies that want to exploit his vulnerability for profit. I’ve never been prouder to work with Josh and Susan, our Steering Committee, and the thousands of advocates all over the world who are fighting for a commercial-free childhood.
I guess Screen-Free Week wasn’t a complete failure.In struggling with my own screen vices, I’ve done some reflecting and had some important revelations. And I did give up Facebook for the week; do I get partial credit?
Read more!
Friday, April 27, 2012
Confessions of a Screen Addict About to Go Cold Turkey (almost) in Anticipation of Screen-Free Week: April 30-May 6
The truth: There I was, Director of Campaign for a Commercial-Free Childhood, champion of limiting children’s screen time, playing Angry Birds on the subway.
The justification: There I was, Director of Campaign for a Commercial-Free Childhood, champion of limiting children’s screen time, after a stressful day trying to change a world that wasn’t cooperating, unable to concentrate on reading, and playing Angry Birds on the subway.
Suddenly a little blonde guy, about six, practically fell over a railing and into my lap trying to get a better look at the game. Awash with guilt at setting a terrible example—being the director of CCFC has its burdens—I shut off my phone. Then his older brother spoke up. “You could get arrested,” he said.
While I felt terrible about contributing to the screen addiction of a minor—to say nothing about succumbing to my own—I was pretty sure I hadn’t broken any laws. “Really?” I said. He nodded solemnly and pointed to the “I am the 99%” button on my jacket. “Occupy,” he said, shaking his head. There followed a diverting conversation about the Occupy movement between me, the nine year old, and his babysitter. But his little brother had other things on his mind. “Why do you have that on your phone?” he said. “What?” I asked, innocently, stalling for time. “Angry Birds,” he answered. “Old people like you don’t play Angry Birds.”
I’m giving up Angry Birds for Screen-Free Week. I’m leaning toward giving it up forever, and not because I’m old. Here’s what I notice when I play: There’s just enough strategy to keep me interested. Once I start it’s hard to stop, and, the weird thing is, it’s not relaxing.
In addition to Angry Birds, I’m giving up Facebook, which I use mostly to keep track of my 30-something relatives and to play cutthroat games of Wordscraper with a friend I don’t see much. I’m also going to forgo my Sunday night back-to-back viewing of Game of Thrones and Mad Men. Not sure that counts, since I’ll DVR the episodes. Finally, since it’s sometimes hard to distinguish between work addiction and screen addiction, I’ll keep my computer completely off when I’m at home after work.
Here’s what I’m not going to give up: Screens for work during working hours.
Actually, I’m looking forward to a week without screens at home. These days I’m more aware of how they dominate my life—and what’s better without them. I sleep more soundly if I turn off my computer a few hours before bed. I pay more attention to conversation with friends and family if I’m not near a screen when we chat on the phone. And on the few purposefully screen-free vacations I’ve taken this year, I’ve returned feeling more centered and with more energy.
I’ve come to realize that one of the values of Screen-Free Week is that it helps make conscious what is usually unconscious. Screens are so interwoven into our lives that we stop noticing whether they’re fun, useful, or even necessary. We use them by default. To fill up time. To distract us from thinking. To save us from the void.
So, this Screen-Free Week I’m looking forward to meals with people I love, reading, walks, music, taking my granddaughters to the circus—and freedom from compulsion to catapult those stupid birds. Read more!
The justification: There I was, Director of Campaign for a Commercial-Free Childhood, champion of limiting children’s screen time, after a stressful day trying to change a world that wasn’t cooperating, unable to concentrate on reading, and playing Angry Birds on the subway.
Suddenly a little blonde guy, about six, practically fell over a railing and into my lap trying to get a better look at the game. Awash with guilt at setting a terrible example—being the director of CCFC has its burdens—I shut off my phone. Then his older brother spoke up. “You could get arrested,” he said.
While I felt terrible about contributing to the screen addiction of a minor—to say nothing about succumbing to my own—I was pretty sure I hadn’t broken any laws. “Really?” I said. He nodded solemnly and pointed to the “I am the 99%” button on my jacket. “Occupy,” he said, shaking his head. There followed a diverting conversation about the Occupy movement between me, the nine year old, and his babysitter. But his little brother had other things on his mind. “Why do you have that on your phone?” he said. “What?” I asked, innocently, stalling for time. “Angry Birds,” he answered. “Old people like you don’t play Angry Birds.”
I’m giving up Angry Birds for Screen-Free Week. I’m leaning toward giving it up forever, and not because I’m old. Here’s what I notice when I play: There’s just enough strategy to keep me interested. Once I start it’s hard to stop, and, the weird thing is, it’s not relaxing.
In addition to Angry Birds, I’m giving up Facebook, which I use mostly to keep track of my 30-something relatives and to play cutthroat games of Wordscraper with a friend I don’t see much. I’m also going to forgo my Sunday night back-to-back viewing of Game of Thrones and Mad Men. Not sure that counts, since I’ll DVR the episodes. Finally, since it’s sometimes hard to distinguish between work addiction and screen addiction, I’ll keep my computer completely off when I’m at home after work.
Here’s what I’m not going to give up: Screens for work during working hours.
Actually, I’m looking forward to a week without screens at home. These days I’m more aware of how they dominate my life—and what’s better without them. I sleep more soundly if I turn off my computer a few hours before bed. I pay more attention to conversation with friends and family if I’m not near a screen when we chat on the phone. And on the few purposefully screen-free vacations I’ve taken this year, I’ve returned feeling more centered and with more energy.
I’ve come to realize that one of the values of Screen-Free Week is that it helps make conscious what is usually unconscious. Screens are so interwoven into our lives that we stop noticing whether they’re fun, useful, or even necessary. We use them by default. To fill up time. To distract us from thinking. To save us from the void.
So, this Screen-Free Week I’m looking forward to meals with people I love, reading, walks, music, taking my granddaughters to the circus—and freedom from compulsion to catapult those stupid birds. Read more!
Screen-Free At Last!
Here’s a sentence I never thought I’d write: I am so looking forward to Screen-Free Week.
When CCFC began hosting Screen-Free Week, I didn’t think about it in personal terms. After all, my daughter (now 3.5) is screen-free. And me? I barely watch TV. Sure, I’m on the computer a lot. But for good reasons. To do my job. To follow important events. As part of my non-work activism. If I’m using screens to be a more engaged citizen, what’s the problem?
Last year’s Screen-Free Week didn’t lead to lasting changes in my screen habits, but it punctured my denial. That little voice in my head saying “turn off the damn computer, already” has gotten progressively – and annoyingly -- louder. And as Screen-Free Week approaches, it’s hard to deny that voice is right most of the time.
I need a break from screens -- computers specifically. My eyes need a break from backlighting. My brain needs a break from information overload. My body needs a break from days of too-little movement and nights of too-little-sleep.
And my family needs a break from a distracted dad/husband. Because my daughter is still screen-free, I tell myself we’re doing great job. But really, managing her screen-time is only one part of my responsibility. I need to stop modeling screen-addiction. And I need to be present when I’m with her, instead of thinking about my next email or tweet.
So in my quest to regain some balance, I’ve made two rules for Screen-Free Week:
1. No screens at home at all. I’m not going to distinguish between entertainment, communication, and work because almost all of my screen time can be justified under the latter two. I’m just going dark.
2. Screen-free lunches. I preach the importance of screen-free meals all the time, but eat my lunch in front of the computer every workday.
Instead, I plan on reading books more, sleeping more, eating lunch outside more, and being less generally distracted. I also plan on using some of my extra screen-free hours to develop a realistic plan for managing my computer time when it’s over. I really don’t want to be writing this same post again next year!
Read more!
When CCFC began hosting Screen-Free Week, I didn’t think about it in personal terms. After all, my daughter (now 3.5) is screen-free. And me? I barely watch TV. Sure, I’m on the computer a lot. But for good reasons. To do my job. To follow important events. As part of my non-work activism. If I’m using screens to be a more engaged citizen, what’s the problem?
Last year’s Screen-Free Week didn’t lead to lasting changes in my screen habits, but it punctured my denial. That little voice in my head saying “turn off the damn computer, already” has gotten progressively – and annoyingly -- louder. And as Screen-Free Week approaches, it’s hard to deny that voice is right most of the time.
I need a break from screens -- computers specifically. My eyes need a break from backlighting. My brain needs a break from information overload. My body needs a break from days of too-little movement and nights of too-little-sleep.
And my family needs a break from a distracted dad/husband. Because my daughter is still screen-free, I tell myself we’re doing great job. But really, managing her screen-time is only one part of my responsibility. I need to stop modeling screen-addiction. And I need to be present when I’m with her, instead of thinking about my next email or tweet.
So in my quest to regain some balance, I’ve made two rules for Screen-Free Week:
1. No screens at home at all. I’m not going to distinguish between entertainment, communication, and work because almost all of my screen time can be justified under the latter two. I’m just going dark.
2. Screen-free lunches. I preach the importance of screen-free meals all the time, but eat my lunch in front of the computer every workday.
Instead, I plan on reading books more, sleeping more, eating lunch outside more, and being less generally distracted. I also plan on using some of my extra screen-free hours to develop a realistic plan for managing my computer time when it’s over. I really don’t want to be writing this same post again next year!
Read more!
Thursday, February 9, 2012
D.I.Y. Valentines
This post was written by guest blogger Brandy King of Knowledge Linking. After spending eight years working with research on children and media, Brandy now faces the challenge of raising two young boys in our media-saturated and commercialized world.
Since it’s my first year with a child in school, I’m new to the “Valentine’s Day Party Procedure.” But I received a notice giving me precise instructions on what to do (and not do) to help my child participate in the celebration. If he wants to give out cards, he can bring one in for every child, signed with his name (but without their names written on them), and if we attach any food items they have to be from the approved snack list because of allergies.
When I was at the grocery store today, I glanced at the Valentine spread and saw that the ONLY options for card kits were covered in licensed characters. I quickly decided we’d be making our own Valentines, which I always thought was more fun anyway. I headed home, cut out 17 red construction paper hearts, and set up our kitchen table with paints and stickers.
My son could not have been more excited about this art project. He chattered on about how he would make some extras for his teachers, how he would manage to carry them all, and how he would hand them all out. He worked diligently all afternoon with several breaks and at the end he had created a grand total of 6 of them. It’s going to be a long few days working up to 17! But I could see the pride and excitement in his eyes when he saw them all laid out to dry on the dining room table.
Inspired by the day of watching him create, I finally caved and joined Pinterest, the online community for saving and sharing images and ideas from around the web. My goal was to create a board of cute Valentine craft ideas for you all to rival the option of mass-market commercialized card kits.
Check out these great Valentine crafts you can make with your kids this weekend. Share your ideas or a link to your own Pinterest board in the comments below! Read more!
Since it’s my first year with a child in school, I’m new to the “Valentine’s Day Party Procedure.” But I received a notice giving me precise instructions on what to do (and not do) to help my child participate in the celebration. If he wants to give out cards, he can bring one in for every child, signed with his name (but without their names written on them), and if we attach any food items they have to be from the approved snack list because of allergies.
When I was at the grocery store today, I glanced at the Valentine spread and saw that the ONLY options for card kits were covered in licensed characters. I quickly decided we’d be making our own Valentines, which I always thought was more fun anyway. I headed home, cut out 17 red construction paper hearts, and set up our kitchen table with paints and stickers.
My son could not have been more excited about this art project. He chattered on about how he would make some extras for his teachers, how he would manage to carry them all, and how he would hand them all out. He worked diligently all afternoon with several breaks and at the end he had created a grand total of 6 of them. It’s going to be a long few days working up to 17! But I could see the pride and excitement in his eyes when he saw them all laid out to dry on the dining room table.
Inspired by the day of watching him create, I finally caved and joined Pinterest, the online community for saving and sharing images and ideas from around the web. My goal was to create a board of cute Valentine craft ideas for you all to rival the option of mass-market commercialized card kits.
Check out these great Valentine crafts you can make with your kids this weekend. Share your ideas or a link to your own Pinterest board in the comments below! Read more!
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