If you don’t like what you’re doing, then don’t do it. — Ray Bradbury
One of the few Ray Bradbury pieces I’ve actually managed to make it through is The Flying Machine, a 1953 short story that proves our Pulitzer Prize winning author actually understood the concept of “economy of words.” And you bleeps have the temerity to think I’m longwinded.
It’s the story of a fictional Fifth Century Chinese Emperor Yuan who, upon learning one of his subjects had created a flying machine and fearing its potentially destructive capacity, had the inventor put to death and the machine destroyed. He explained:
But there are times when one must lose a little beauty if one is to keep what little beauty one already has. I do not fear you, yourself, but I fear another man. Some other man who, seeing you, will build a thing of bright papers and bamboo like this. But the other man will have an evil face and an evil heart, and the beauty will be gone. It is this man I fear.
I read that story back in seventh grade, but unlike so many other things in this ephemeral existence, it’s stuck with me. And while I certainly understand the author’s Cold War allegorical intent, trying to put a lid on technology is ultimately a fool’s errand. If one person can invent a flying machine, it’s only a matter of time before the next one does.
But feeling the emperor’s pain, were I entrusted with the opportunity to go back and “dissuade” Motorola engineer Martin Cooper from pursuing his technological breakthrough – by any means necessary – considering the current cellphone scourge and grandfather paradox be damned, I might just surprise myself. There may be something to Emperor Yuan’s thought process.
But I didn’t always feel that way.
In their more utilitarian early days, the instant communications afforded was an astonishing benefit. If I was missing a dinner ingredient I could call, or eventually text, my wife to pick it up on her way home from work. I could similarly alert her to a traffic issue. Should she disappear somewhere in the vastness of Meijer, her shopping ninja specialty, we’d be reunited one short phone call later.
When the art of texting began to flourish, it was the same for my school-aged sons. If they forgot their lunch, I’d let them know it’d be waiting for them in the office. I could remind them to ask the teacher about an assignment. Or, if my afternoon travels worked out, let them know I’d pick them up.
So, I was annoyed when there was early talk about banning cellphones in schools. I’d pound my fist on my home office desk while shouting – at no one in particular – “How dare you deprive me of this exceptional convenience!”
But now I’m ready to stand guard at the Geneva High School front door to confiscate every last one of those insidious devices. And if I get one more unsolicited MAGA text, I’m going to let them take mine, too.
It was one thing when cellphones had monochromatic screens and a limited computing capacity. But how can any teacher possibly compete with the “smart” variety that boasts exponentially more digital capabilities than my first IBM XT PC? To literally have the world at your fingertips is an incredible feat, but in the age of distraction, they’ve become a technological nightmare, particularly for children.
Not to mention the surprising number of adults who can’t handle the omnipresent temptation. The next time I see someone plying our subdivision pathways with a cellphone plastered to their right hand, the nearest pond level will become ever so slightly higher.
But sadly, the distraction dilemma has become the least of the deleterious educational prospects.
It depends upon the district, but applying the instant communication possibilities to taunt rival groups and plan the next physical confrontation has become a popular middle and high school pastime. Perhaps the little miscreants should get credit for being a bit more organized, but this wasn’t exactly what they had in mind when they created calendar apps.
And when they aren’t sharing videos of those fights, they’re texting illicit photographs of this week’s significant other, which generally amounts to child pornography, which can get you 15 years in the slammer.
Then there’s the bizarrely ironic reality that cellphones exacerbate, rather than mitigate, teenage angst and isolation. I’ve previously written about how peculiar it is to walk past a Geneva high school bus stop only to observe five waiting students glued to their cellphones as they completely ignore each other. So much for developing the kind of social skills required to succeed at any reasonable job.
Let’s not forget about the lightspeed cheating potential these handheld devices so eagerly offer.
But when you truly consider the plethora of pernicious possibilities, the issues we’ve just covered pale in comparison to what the art of 21st Century cyberbullying has become. In my time, you had to be in reasonable proximity to your tormentor, but now they can apply their compelling brand of sadism through a device that sits in your back pocket. There are all manner of methods to get around being blocked, too.
On a slightly side note, the number of parents who continue to buy into the stranger danger myth, but then they give the nefarious folks direct access to their children in their own bedrooms is beyond baffling.
My greater point here is there’s a growing group of Geneva mothers who want D304 to ban school cellphones and I support them 100 percent. Superintendent Andy Barrett believes those restrictions should remain the parents’ purview, and while that’s typically usually the best answer to any educational conundrum, considering their own cellphone addiction, it’s time for the District to put their foot down and end this curse.
As the Superintendent himself said:
…We would ask and encourage you to help model those good practices at home. Sometimes that is easier said than done, but I know if I want my kid to eat broccoli, I better eat broccoli at the dinner table.
But I can tell you that there ain’t gonna be much broccoli eating when it comes to these bright shiny objects.
This ideological shift means I’ve officially backtracked on my opposition to school uniforms, I’ve done a 180 on solving the homeless problem, and now I’m calling for a school cellphone ban. I’m not sure if it’s a form of age-borne wisdom, or something a little more along the lines of the great philosopher Mick Jagger’s thoughts on aging, “What a drag it is getting old.”
Either way, cellphones should no longer be tolerated in any school anywhere.
