Over my dead body, sixth-grade Scout got a cell phone earlier this year—to communicate with her parents, was the idea. But she began calling her friends, of course, as I waved my cold, dead hands. And then over my rigor-mortistic corpse, she began texting—to a bigger group of friends than the circle I had approved.
Initially, I wanted her only to text people—like far-flung family members, or friends across town, with whom she couldn't kibitz regularly. I did not want her yakking with her friends all day at school and all night on text. I know her friends. They're lovely, but they're 12—and not yet that interesting! And if all you do is text, when in the fuck do you read, or daydream or, as I think every person ought to do every day, contemplate your mortality?
That rule went by the wayside, because she did a lot of texting with friends to help each other with homework … and then to efficiently arrange complicated five-girl neighborhood outings. The amount of texting didn't seem out of control, and the content seemed mostly focused on logistics.
But then one day last week, Scout told me that—names changed to protect the juvenile—Vance texted her to tell her Brandon was very sorry for embarrassing her and Nate by suggesting they were trying to kiss when all they were doing was studying together.
And I said, "Hold on one cotton-pickin' minute."
I said, "No texting boys."
I said, "The whole thing about boys is you've got to learn to talk to them face to face, and figure out what you really have the courage to say to them and watching their eyes to figure out who they really are inside and how they really think." ("And so forth," I added.)
I said, "Learning about boys by texting with them is not learning about boys. It's a video game, with real boys."
She asked if she could talk to boys on the phone.
I said, "Yes." (Knowing full well I'll be incensed if she starts spending a lot of time talking to boys on the phone.) We discussed how she was going to tell boys she doesn't text. We agreed on, "I'm not allowed to text with boys. If you need to talk to me, call me up or I'll see you at school."
I said, "I'm happy to explain the reasons behind this policy to all your friends, and to boys who call, too." At this, Scout demurred, and volunteered to articulate my philosophy to her friends herself.
And then we went on to create a funny scenario where she could only communicate with boys through me, and we had a jolly laugh.
That all went down last Thursday. So far, so good.
It will no doubt not last forever, but for now, no-texting-with-boys seems like a no-brainer to me and my wife (and to Louis C.K., above).
But I also think I'll be overwhelmed with laughing people telling me I'm being completely unrealistic. I also have friends whose parenting I respect as much as my own who do not consider placing such an arbitrary restriction on modern childhood socialization. Our parents didn't manage our playground conversations, so why do we think we should—or even that we can—tell boys and girls how they can and cannot go about exploring one anothers' strange minds.
So what is my no-texting-with-boys-until-at-least-high-school policy:
Is it a parenting no-brainer? Or am I a parenting dead-ender?
Text me.
I am not a parent. I should offer that disclaimer right up front. That said, I’ll just be over here setting up the marching band and cheerleaders in honour of your decision on this!
Go ahead and call me a dinosaur if you wish (heaven knows you won’t be the first and probably not the last) but I firmly and irrevocably believe that in order for younger humans to effectively, successfully learn to interact with other humans – regardless of gender – they must spend more time face-to-face than other ways.
The rage by younger people to interact almost exclusively online is creating all sorts of problems that are far less likely to happen in person.
Bullying is a perfect example. In the olden days when I was a kid, being a bully involved significant risk. You had to be big enough or strong enough to overwhelm the target. You also had to have the balls to do rotten stuff to another person up close and personal and usually in front of witnesses, which is tougher that it sounds unless you are raised by wolves. Not only that but you had to have a level of support and a big enough group of minions to back you. While it was still awful, there was less of it because it WAS a risk to the bully.
Now,to be a bully all you need are two working thumbs and an Internet connection. Ane without having to look the person you are savaging in the face, but rather hiding behind a keyboard, any reflection of your own lack of humanity becomes irrelevant – it doesn’t FEEL so bad when all you are being vicious to is a screen name, right?!
Anyway, I say bravo to you for that decision!!
Thanks, Kristen. We dinosaurs do have to stick together. (Not sticking together–that’s probably what happened to the original dinosaurs.)
As someone who was bullied in person–and who did a little bullying–I can tell you, it was a VIVID and painful and awful experience, rough on the souls of everyone involved. If nasty texting doesn’t disturb the texter as much as the textee … well then yeah, that’s another reason to go analog.
I’m with you: emoji are no match for facial expressions. Teenage boys also must learn courage and, as the channers who doxx women asserting their right to express opinions online demonstrate, boys who aren’t forced to confront the amazing complexity of real people IRL grow into men who can’t do so either.
http://www.bostonglobe.com/metro/2016/02/01/cops-swarm-rep-katherine-clark-melrose-home-after-apparent-hoax/yqEpcpWmKtN6bOOAj8FZXJ/story.html?event=event25
I was chatting with a grade school teacher who bemoaned his students’ erosion in social skills because they were communicating online instead of face-to-face. He could see that, at that early age, they were already in trouble.
The worst part: that was 12-13 years ago (before I left NY), and the kids were using “instant messaging” on their desktops. Smartphones were still jut a gleam in some developers’ eyes.
It’s safe to say that it hasn’t gotten any better.
(FWIW, like most people, I love all the new technologies. But they’re a two-edged sword… and too many parents are so clueless that they don’t see the handwriting on the wall.)
Stand your ground, David.