Screens were in two waiting rooms at the Children’s Hospital of Eastern Ontario during a recent appointment for my daughter. 

Screens were at an outdoor end of summer party our family attended, where the adults talked and ate, and the kids watched. 

Screens are in public schools over lunchtime and in class time. 

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Screens, big and small, are, by rights, the bane of our existence: The constant pull. The perceived need to “stay on top of things.” Work at any time of day or night facilitated with too much ease. The tuning out of the person in front of us to answer the buzz in our pockets. Even the positive attributes of connection with faraway family and friends can become overwhelming. 

(Oh, to write this column with a plume and inkwell by candlelight. What would Laura Ingalls Wilder do? We ask this question all too infrequently today. I digress.)

Instead, on screen, the writing of this short column has been punctuated by breaks I did not need, to “learn” about the traumas of the day. On the day of writing, my feed focused on the murder of Charlie Kirk. On a different day, it will be something else. The screen always has something to share.

This is the troubling situation for adults. But it is of greater concern when it comes to our kids.

I am trying to teach my daughter that all screens are adult tools to be used carefully and wisely. I aim to teach, relatedly, that books are fun, exciting, and provide a lifetime of friendship and wisdom if we gain this habit called reading. Furthermore, my wish for her is to gather with other kids in our parks and neighbourhood and ride bikes and play hide-and-seek until the sun sets, without concern for how she looks because someone is filming on their smartphone. How many times have I seen kids at the park gripping smartphones? Too many. 

Battling the extremely pervasive nature of screens is so hard, so tiring, and so very important. Yet there are some indications that big change may be in the offing.

There have been (at least) three major contributions to the research recently, helping us to understand that screens and smart phone technology contain dangerous risks for kids. 

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One is Jonathan Haidt’s Anxious Generation, in which he asserts that as childhood has moved increasingly online, more mental health problems have arisen. 

Another book is by psychology professor Jean Twenge who recently published 10 Rules for Raising Kids in a High-Tech World.

And a final offering is Clare Morell’s The Tech Exit: A Practical Guide to Freeing Kids and Teens from Smartphones.

All advocate for not allowing children to use these screen-based technologies. 

Yet if the screens allowed in schools and featured in hospitals are any indication, those of us who hate screens are not winning. Or better put, we are not winning—yet. There are several reasons why the Luddites will eventually win. 

(Yes, I do realize that screens to watch shows aren’t the same thing as a smartphone in one’s pocket. Yet the tendency to push kids toward screen time and away from the real world remains the same.) 

One is that it takes time for research to filter into the mainstream. While the books by Haidt, Twenge, and Morell reference an existing body of literature, they are yet fairly new. In due course, more and more people and parents are going to read them and wake up to the dangers of screens—as well as the obstacles they present to learning. 

Another is that this issue of desiring a screen-free childhood exists on all sides of the political spectrum. My progressive, leftie friends dislike smart phones in schools as much as I do. Likewise, they appreciate a return to free play as much as I do, too. 

Tomie dePaola (1934-2020), a children’s book author and illustrator, describes in his children’s book 26 Fairmount Avenue that in order to see a movie when he was a kid, his family had to actually go out to the theatre. There’s something to that. If we must have screens, let it be to gather and enjoy something together and not as the constant default/background noise to life. 

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More importantly, let’s say “no” more often as adults to the individualized screens in our pockets, drawing us further into an online morass of righteous indignation and addicting concerns that tech execs—who often don’t let their own children have smart phones—thought we must see.  

Andrea Mrozek is Senior Fellow for Cardus Family and the author of I…Do? Why Marriage Still Matters.