My firstborn has had his own “screen”, aka mobile phone, since the end of 2021. He was 12 then, going on 13.
To ensure my wife and I set the right tone to cultivate responsible use of it, we had written up a phone contract which my son had to sign before he could have the phone.
I learned of this idea — to draft a phone agreement — after reading a book called “Raising A Screen-Smart Kid” by a public health educator, blogger, and mother of three, Julianna Miner. I even did a short review of it.
It’s been more than two years now and he’s nearly 15. High time to review that agreement, or so I thought a couple of months ago. Unfortunately, things got in the way, and no one (namely my wife and, especially, my son) seemed interested to sit down with me for the overdue discussion.
But eventually, we did. Last Friday to be precise. And suggested, no insisted upon, by my son himself!
Little did I know it would be a pow-wow that took nearly two hours! And little did I know it would be less about his use of the phone than it was about loneliness, trust, and, more specifically for me, “fathering softer”. (Do check out my earlier entries on this topic)
How Our Screen Time Chat Began.
I knew something was up when, out of the blue, my firstborn J asked a couple of weeks ago if he could have the Instagram app installed on his phone. I also knew that this was the start of a conversation I had been dreading for a long time. Setting up and installing his first-ever social media account is just the start of a slippery slope to social media mayhem.
So I did what any wise sage of a father would do.
I stalled.
But to my credit, I defended my decision by saying that I had been pressing him to renegotiate our contract since two months ago. So that should take place first before discussing this. J was understandably displeased but took it positively nevertheless. At least it sounded to him like I wasn’t giving him a blanket no.
Every day after that, he started to press me for an appointment.
So I did what any cool, calm, and collected dad would do.
I panicked.
To Teens Today, Connection Comes In A Screen.
Thankfully, I recalled Miner’s book and quickly went back to the public library to borrow and re-read it for some nuggets of practical wisdom and advice. I wanted to find some ammo that could let me turn down his request for Instagram.
No surprise, I was disappointed.
Deep inside, I knew of course that it was an exercise in futility. Given my own academic and teaching background in culture and media, I knew this was one tsunami I couldn’t avoid. Experts too typically advise parents to ride the tide rather than fight a losing battle. Social media is here to stay, and if all his peers are on it but him, how will that affect the young lad?
As we sat down last Friday to talk, I decided to “father softer” and listen first before even discussing contract terms and conditions.
So I turned to J and asked: “Son, why do you suddenly want an Instagram account? I recall you didn’t protest before when I told you I preferred to wait til you were 16 to have one. What changed?”
J replied: “Dad, during the 2023 year-end school vacation that lasted over two months, I felt really lonely on many days. Most of my friends were busy, away, or just preferred to stay home and play computer games on their own. The most communication that took place was via Instagram, Discord, and other social media platforms. I couldn’t join any of those conversations since you wouldn’t let me have access to social media.”
And there it was. Loneliness. The reason why my son now wanted connection via the most popular way teens today connect. Never mind that, ironically, social media use more often than not leads to increased feelings of loneliness among teenagers.
“Yes son, you can have more screen time, but…”
Just to be clear, it wasn’t that I had diabolical plans to ban him from social media completely for the rest of his life. That would be ridiculous and near impossible. Not unless I plan to end our father-son relationship right now!
It has to do with safety and trust.
Safety, because it’s a cowboy town out there with social media like Instagram and TikTok. Time and again I’ve warned J that these aren’t nor will ever be his “good friends”. Even though they appear to offer up hours of gleeful distractions and entertainment from the dull and hum-drum of our daily stressful lives. There are just too many bad actors on these platforms who steal away attention and feed users lots of half-truths and filtered virtual reality that’s more make-believe than anything else.
Trust, because he’s still a teenager and needs to understand that, (and here I apologize for borrowing the ultimate cliche of all) with “great power comes great responsibility”. And trust, once broken, from say careless online behavior on his part, will take a lot longer to rebuild between him and his parents. Social media will only provide yet another avenue that will challenge and tempt him to bridge boundaries and push his luck.
A New Agreement for Screen Time.
In the end, my wife and I agreed last Friday that J could start his Instagram account on a trial period of about a month, give or take a week.
First, he must agree to let me limit his use of it to 1 hour on weekends only (I have parental control as his phone is tethered to mine). Once he’s more familiar and shows he can use it responsibly (no silly posts or images), and not get sucked into it at the expense of school work or household chores, then we can renegotiate to increase the duration.
Second, he must grant us access at all times, and share his password with my wife and me. A rule already in place since he had his phone, but which we rarely exercise since we aren’t tiger moms or dads. At least I don’t think so. Still, this rule helps keep him on his toes.
Third, we have to adjust his phone downtime for this and other apps he uses (for games and entertainment) so that while we allow him more screen time now that he’s a year older, it’s still within limits we can all be comfortable with.
The meeting lasted nearly two hours (slightly contentious in the first half but calmer thankfully in the second), but we managed to cover a lot of ground and ended it to everyone’s satisfaction.
When it comes to screens, my son trusts us. And us, him.
As a postscript to this tale, I’d like to share a delightful parenting moment that happened two days after the meeting.
Last Sunday, while waiting for dinner to be ready, J leaned over the dining table and whispered to me something conspiratorially. He claimed that I would no longer have parental control over his phone next year when he turns 16.
I was momentarily surprised. Was that true? (Turns out it was, at least in my country. In others like the US, it was 13!) Does that mean I only have a year now to ensure he would be a wise and responsible phone owner?
I tried not to dwell on it, though the thought occupied my waking hours for quite a while this past week.
Instead, I tried to dwell on the fact that he volunteered the information to me, even though he could have pretended not to know and come next year, “quietly quit” my control!
So there is trust after all. For somewhere in our parenting journey, my wife and I (by God’s grace) did something right. Why else would J come clean so willingly?
I couldn’t be more relieved. Or more humbled and grateful.
And I’m guessing my attempt to “father softer” that day helped in no small measure!
