I am a 17-year-old living in 2025, and as such, I need to make a confession: I have a bit of a TikTok problem … and a Snapchat problem … and, well, let’s just call it a phone problem. I can trace my technology addiction back to my days in the stroller, being pushed by my mother. I remember only a handful of things from that physical vantage point: My mom’s brown hair, her bright smile, and her electric blue silicone iPhone case.
I was born in 2007, and so was the iPhone. The phone and I celebrate our birthdays two months apart. I was never allowed near my mom’s iPhone 3, but I sat and stared at its bright blue case from my perch. Sometimes I got a glimpse of the screen, and was able to see her screensaver: a picture of me smiling from two years earlier. Other times, I just sat watching her use that mysterious device. How was she able to move her fingers so fast? What was she typing? And when she raised it to her ear, who was speaking to her from inside the electric blue case? These were my unanswerable wonders as a toddler. The only thing I did know for sure was that my mother and her little blue box knew stuff that I never would.
To grasp just how much power smartphones have over kids, I need look no further than my own earliest memories. The allure of my mom’s iPhone captivated me almost from the time I was conscious. I was entranced by it, even before she knew of its spell on me; it was the shiniest toy I could not reach. And the fact that it was beyond my grasp made it all the more enticing. And of course, I’m hardly alone on this. Show me a restaurant with children in it, and I’ll show you an equal number of iPads. Ever since the smartphone’s inception 17 years ago, screens have been making a deep impact on every kid at every age and every stage of their lives. This ubiquitous, pocket-sized technology is now baked into the very fabric of our culture, so central to our daily existence that it’s impossible to look away or live without it. And all of this is not without potentially grave consequences.
We know now that, among young people, depression has skyrocketed and vocabulary has plummeted. As Jonathan Haidt cited in his book, The Anxious Generation, no young generation in the last fifty years has been as anxious or unhappy as this one: Since 2010, there has been a 135 percent increase in depression for girls, and an even bigger one — 161 percent — for boys. Experts link these spikes in sadness directly to the advent of the smartphone; they say insecurity and despondency are the direct psychological result of our long hours spent staring at screens.
Now that I’m 17, looking back on my childhood, I wonder how a parent could or should grapple with this phenomenon. We know that kids mimic the behaviors that they see around them. When I was 10, much to my mother’s dismay, I physically put my hand on her chin to raise her head to look at me when she could not bring herself to glance up from her phone. It was disheartening, to be sure, and yet I don’t blame her: Those were the early, heady days of this new technology, and we knew as much then about limiting phone use as people in the 1950s knew about wearing seatbelts. Yet now it’s a decade-plus later, and we know a whole lot more.
Which begs the question: What, if anything, can we do about this crisis? Is this next generation doomed? Or are there measures that can still be taken when it comes to phone use, navigating the treacherous realities of dependency and ubiquity? Governors like Kathy Hochul in New York are implementing statewide school bans — and spreading a hopeful message. But what happens when kids get home from school? What can parents do to restore eye contact and conversation at the dinner table — and maybe even save their adult selves in the process?
The Allure of Screen-Free Time
To answer all of these questions, I turned to a foremost expert. I had the pleasure of meeting and speaking with psychologist Yoni Schwab, co-founder of the Shefa School, and former psychologist at The Windward School. What Dr. Schwab has to say is deceptively simple — and easy to apply to one’s home life if one is willing to do so. Parents need to stop accommodating their kids, Dr. Schwab says. Rather, let them be bored. Boredom spurs creativity, and getting through tantrums in difficult situations yields growth.
With that in mind, Dr. Schwab suggests a nuanced approach to the matter, one built on the tenet that “screen-free time” must have “its own allure.”
“The key is not just to take away screens,” he says, “but to replace them with meaningful, engaging, empowering alternatives.” When screens are off the table, board games must be on the table, he says. Or, if you’re not into board games, try reading together, going outside, hanging out with friends, or working on a creative craft. And the best option of all might be simply engaging kids in conversation, which is not just an opportunity for bonding, but also for learning. Kids master language not from watching reels on their phones, but rather from talking with their parents. “When kids are engaged in activities, both structured and unstructured,” says Dr. Schwab, “they are actually much happier than when they are on a device.”
I can confirm from personal experience that Dr. Schwab is spot-on. When I’m out with my friends, having dinner, lunch, or getting ready, I’ve never once thought, “I wish I were in bed on TikTok” (at least not until my social battery dies). But when I’ve been alone in bed on TikTok, I’ve often thought, “I wish I were out laughing with my friends.” As for boredom, I remember staring at the ceiling from my bed when I was younger, creating elaborate fairy tales in my head, and having my mom write them down (this was before I could write myself). Whereas during my 30 minutes of iPad time, my biggest concern was how to get three green candies to line up in Candy Crush.
I ended my conversation with Dr. Schwab by asking him a phone question that’s been at the forefront of my mind lately. But before I get to that question, some context: I began this essay with recollections from my stroller days, knowing even at 3 years old that I wanted to have and hold my mom’s phone, in its electric blue case, as soon as I could get my hands on it. Well, eight years or so after I first spied my mom’s iPhone 3, I hit a milestone. After waging a relentless campaign, I finally wore my parents down enough to get them to buy me my own phone. And as I began sixth grade, I remember the exhilarating experience of knowing I had an iPhone 11 with my name on it — even before I knew exactly what I would do with it. I could not wait to play with my new toy, or even simply to walk around carrying it. I am not overstating things when I say that I felt like I’d become an adult practically overnight. Indeed, getting a phone was a rite of passage for me, and so many of my friends.
Which brings me back to my final question for Dr. Schwab. With all of these details as a backdrop, I asked our phone expert how we begin to undo this powerful cultural association that the phone has assumed in kids’ eyes — it’s a measure of growing up.
His answer surprised me. He did not suggest any radical overhaul of our new cultural norms. “Getting a phone will continue to be a rite of passage,” Dr. Schwab said. But he added that the rite of passage “should come later, in high school rather than in elementary or middle school. It’s a huge responsibility, and it should be taken seriously. And there should be a lot of training and practice to use it safely, like we do with other developmental milestones, like learning to drive.”
And so it’s clear that we are at a cultural crossroads now. There’s no simple medicine or antidote to aid in our technological disconnecting. All of our limbs are wired to satellites since birth, but it’s worth taking steps to sever those wires. With the help of our parents or other adults around us, perhaps Gen Z is not completely lost to the virtual world.
More Stories from Parenting
Leave a Comment