A few weeks ago some studies came out about the chemical nature of screen addiction; I would have saved them, but I'm not doing active research on the subject these days, and I'm not sure where I'd put them. Here, probably. If you want to know why young children aren't reading, it's because there are screens, and they are addicted to them.
We've got two foster daughters, nine and ten. They are delightful children, remarkably innocent considering what they've gone through. One can't blame them for drifting toward something (a screen) that offers reward, light, good feeling, dopamine. Another foster mom gave them two screens and the addictive behavior commenced. They want screens when they wake up, when they come home from school, after dinner, before bed. They want them all the time.
My wife and I, both recovering alcoholic/potheads, recognize addictive behavior when we see it. In addition I have a house full of books and I'm being pressured to clean things out, get things out of the house. There have been times when these girls have been talked into rummaging around in the garage, or in old boxes of toys, or even digging in the dirt; they're normal kids and can have fun in traditional ways as well as modern ones. But in their relation to screens, they're like most kids: addicted easily. If they have a choice, they'll choose screens.
In school presumably they'll teach them how to read, or at least try. But I consider the primary responsibility to be the parents'. If we cede power, and let them do what they want, they'll just do screens all day every day. ad infinitum so to speak. I have been through this with three boys (count them three) who all swore they could tell reality from video games and then all had trouble distinguishing them. Screens can take over our consciousnesses altogether, if we let them. And if we parents let them decide, they will let screens decide.
Books, as bawdy and fantastic as they sometimes are, never did that to people, that I know of. Maybe I should do more research.
Tuesday, April 28, 2026
Tuesday, March 17, 2026
Fifteen years of silence
Fifteen years ago there was a workshop, for which I made this blog. I had gone all the way to Arequipa, Peru, to help some beleaguered teachers deal with readers' malaise. The boss wanted me to teach readers' tricks, like using context clues, etc., as he had been taught when he was up in an American university, possibly ours. Arequipa was a stunningly beautiful time. Before I go farther, let me say it one more time: posts below this deal with that workshop, fifteen years ago.
Several things stuck with me from the workshop. One was that the teachers themselves were very clear that their main problem was one of motivation: how to get their students to want to read. They were like kids everywhere: once phones showed up, they mostly just wanted to play on their phones. How do you propose even making them want to try? Well, I was a little stumped, hadn't quite thought of it that way, but I gave it my best shot. You have to give them something they can use. Something like information about their classmates, or about their town, or about the land or the mountains around them. Something they will know by reading but would not otherwise be common knowledge to anyone else. And if it was something written by their classmate, so much the better. I call useful information currency - if they can use it, it's valuable to them. They can appear to their friends to know more than the average person. This would be the definition of well-read.
Today there's a national problem of readers' malaise. Quite briefly, a whole generation is flunking out of reading and civics classes because they can't or don't want to read. The pandemic didn't help. The schools are in crisis for a variety of other reasons, and we have a president who is not only hostile to education in general, but who eliminates the departments charged with keeping track and doing something about it. This is not ending any time soon. The kids, for their part, stay on their phones. There's not much on there to read.
Perhaps with this blog, from here on up, I can address this issue.
LET WHAT COMES BELOW STAY IN THE 2011 CONFERENCE IN WHICH IT WAS GENERATED.
Several things stuck with me from the workshop. One was that the teachers themselves were very clear that their main problem was one of motivation: how to get their students to want to read. They were like kids everywhere: once phones showed up, they mostly just wanted to play on their phones. How do you propose even making them want to try? Well, I was a little stumped, hadn't quite thought of it that way, but I gave it my best shot. You have to give them something they can use. Something like information about their classmates, or about their town, or about the land or the mountains around them. Something they will know by reading but would not otherwise be common knowledge to anyone else. And if it was something written by their classmate, so much the better. I call useful information currency - if they can use it, it's valuable to them. They can appear to their friends to know more than the average person. This would be the definition of well-read.
Today there's a national problem of readers' malaise. Quite briefly, a whole generation is flunking out of reading and civics classes because they can't or don't want to read. The pandemic didn't help. The schools are in crisis for a variety of other reasons, and we have a president who is not only hostile to education in general, but who eliminates the departments charged with keeping track and doing something about it. This is not ending any time soon. The kids, for their part, stay on their phones. There's not much on there to read.
Perhaps with this blog, from here on up, I can address this issue.
LET WHAT COMES BELOW STAY IN THE 2011 CONFERENCE IN WHICH IT WAS GENERATED.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
