Did you grow up with people telling you to “practice what you preach”? Even in childhood I figured it must be difficult, considering the way adults said it.
For the past two conference seasons I’ve delivered a talk called The Digital Dulling of our Children. It packs the room, no matter where. And why? Because thoughtful parents are (or should be) worried about the effect this ubiquitous technology has on their children’s well-being.
Let’s get past one thing right now: the “hype” about the great benefit of technology for education is nonsense. The developmental downsides of handing children iPads are legion. Finally this fact is hitting the popular press. From kindergartners unable to grip a crayon to fourth-graders unable to pay attention, writers are decrying what has gone wrong.
But now I’m thinking about something else: the damage screen time is doing to young (and old) eyes. On my last Smithsonian Journey’s voyage down the Rhine, one of my guests was an optometrist. It turns out she worked during the 1990s at the same Dallas eye center I frequented back in my SMU professor days. After we chatted about “who knew whom,” we moved to the topic of the arts, and then education. I saw my opening! “So, from your perspective, how damaging are these digital screens to kids’ eyes?”
I knew her answer would not be bland, but its vehemence surprised me. In short, all of us are experiencing eye damage from screens, starting with babies and toddlers who never should be near screens in the first place.
In my childhood, parents worried about the effect on eyes of a TV screen observed across a room. But kids, with their short arms, holding these brilliant screens inches from their tender, still-developing eyes? That’s a recipe for disaster, she said.
Retinal damage is the biggest concern. Longer-range fears include early onset of glaucoma, ordinarily a disease of senior citizens. The future of today’s “screen kids,” quite literally, will be blighted by greater likelihood of blindness.
In my own life, I know how tired my eyes get from screen usage. Particularly with all my international travel, I wake up at night without the slightest idea what time it is. My wristwatch is somewhere under a pile of books. The bedside table doesn’t have an alarm clock. So I look at my phone.
And, ouch, the blast of light really hurts the eye. It hurts when it comes on and it hurts for ten, fifteen minutes afterwards.
For the longest time, I ignored how much that light hurt, or didn’t think that it mattered. But lately I’ve taken notice. And after more research subsequent to this doctor’s pronouncement, I’m convinced, for starters, that I need to find a different way to check the time at night! Better a blast of light from the lamp than the intense light of the phone blasting into my sleepy eyes.
Fully cutting the umbilical cords of the technology is not something I can do right now. “Professor Carol” may have started in the CD age, but today it’s front and center as a cyber-business. We stream video and webinars. We design our publications on-line. Our Friday Performance Picks and Advent Calendar travel around the world by virtue of the internet. Plus, I stay in touch with students and families through email, texting, and the “Professor Carol” Facebook page. Believe me, I want to be available for everyone who needs me.
So those things must remain.
But I don’t need to extend my screen time with cute-cat videos. And how many times daily do I need to consult news sites? Is the ultra-convenience of downloading a book on the iPad really worth the eyestrain of reading it in digital form?
And, most importantly (I’ve had this day of reckoning and made subsequent corrections), when my grandson toddles over to me, do I want him to see me staring at a screen? I need to practice what I preach.
Along these lines, I recently realized that my pre-school granddaughter hardly ever saw me writing on paper. Contrast that with the memories I have of my mother composing letters and lists in her beautiful handwriting. So I’ve moved the laptop over and started using notebooks again.
I’m trying. When the grandkids are around, unless I’m expecting a communication from someone in the hospital, or a relative out on the highways, the texts can wait. If one of our students or teachers is distraught with a problem, then I need to answer that email ASAP. Otherwise, email can wait until an appropriate time.
Practice what I preach. Get better at modeling the behavior I wish them to see. And give my always poorly sighted eyes a chance to make it a bit longer. What about you?
