“Reading this makes me want to stop using my phone,” sighs A, “but then I don’t know, because my phone is so fun!”
We’re reading an excerpt from the end of Kelly Yang’s book Finally Heard: “Essential Research on Social Media and Kids.” We finished watching Yang’s hilarious and informative video yesterday, and are adding more to our notes, like how 95% of teens ages 13-17 and 40% of kids ages 8-12 use social media. We’ve learned about oxytocin and the dopamine loop, the upward comparison that leads so many — especially young girls — to have anxiety and depression, and the meaning of the word “vulnerability.”
But that duality that A feels is so real.
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It got me thinking about all my own mixed feelings around technology and the absolute chokehold it has on us today. I’m disgusted by my daily screen time some days, feel the real highs and lows of sending funny memes and doomscrolling, and yet…
With WhatsApp, I can chat and listen to voice notes from my best friends who live across the world — Ariel in Tel Aviv, Giada in Madrid, Emma in Málaga, Reeta in Manchester.
With FaceTime, I can see my niece and nephew hold my newest niece, Lucy, for the first time, experience their first fight about it: “You got to hold her already, it’s my turn!” “No, it’s mine!”
With Instagram, I can find inspiring knitting patterns and teaching ideas, see videos from a friend’s wedding that I couldn’t attend at the last minute.
With WordPress, I can write and read in community with so many incredible writers, including 18 (!!!!!) from my school.
How do we find the balance in this duality? Lauren’s slice got me thinking more about the positives, the excitement that comes with the ability to connect with our friends and family even when we’re far.
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I started putting up the documentation for our project last week. Data visualization of the “collapsed distance” we learned about: a map of Miami, with all of the students’ locations pinned, white strings connecting them to each other based on who they speak to via devices when they’re at home, and turquoise strings connecting all of them back to our school. Ale helped us put it together and came up with the reflection question students answered after.
“No matter where you are, you can still stay in contact,” M wrote.
E realized: “We’re far from each other but we’re still connected.”
I don’t have all the answers to A’s dilemma, but I guess part of finding that balance is remembering the original reason we’re all using our devices: to stay tied to one another.
And I am so grateful for that.
Writing With Abandon 
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