I currently have someone in my life with whom I can only contact via letters. I am talking about snail mail, meaning hand writing or typing a cohesive self-narrative, putting a stamp on it, and sending it out into the world via the U.S. Postal Service. While this may not sound earth shattering, I’ve experienced a cognitive re-awakening. Living so fully immersed in the world of social media, texting, and email, I forgot what it was like to truly engage in traditional correspondence. (more…)
“Mommy, can I have a cell phone?”
These words were uttered by my five-year-old son James after school one day. He asked the question casually, as if he was asking for a glass of milk. No big deal.
My face involuntarily morphed into an “Are you crazy?” expression, and in a super-sonic voice that only dogs and small children can hear, I said, “No!”
“But Emma has one,” said James, as if that explained everything.
Emma is one of James’ friends at school. Emma is five.
The following day when I dropped James off, I spoke to his teacher.
“Does Emma really have a cell phone?” I asked.
“Yes,” said the teacher with a weary sigh. “It had the whole class in an uproar. We’ve had to make her leave it in the office during school hours.”
Wow. Five-year-olds with cell phones. When I was five, the only phone in my house was the ugly green rotary dial phone (more…)
We live in a world of iPads, flat screen televisions, smartphones, GPS navigation systems, electric cars, the Internet.
Our children are growing up in the fast-moving digital age.
Our children are growing up watching television, loving shows like Barney, Sesame Street, Baby Einstein, Dora the Explorer, Spongebob Squarepants and many more. They’re growing up learning the alphabet with Elmo using the iPad. They’re growing up learning to use a smartphone before they can even talk.
There is much dialogue about the extent of technology our children are immersed in, whether voluntarily, as permitted by their parents, or involuntarily, where they’re surrounded by these things when they go to school, to a mall, or even, their friends’ homes. (more…)
It’s 3:30pm. My youngest son of five and I have just piled through the front door, bags of groceries in my hands and his lunch tin in his. He scrambles off to the kitchen, and the first thing he does is to not look for a snack. Instead, he starts playing a game on my computer at the corner of our kitchen.
3, 2, 1…There it is: “Can someone please turn on mom’s computer for me?”, he yells, banging his fists on my desk. There is something wrong with this picture, I realize. (more…)