Sitting in a waiting room, standing in the hallways before fifth period, carpooling with a teammate, in many of these scenarios there is always something available to serve as an “adult” safety blanket. Phones. The image of a head down, face illuminated by blue light from hand-held rectangles, is ubiquitous. For Gen Zers that ubiquity is often taken for granted; however, it is important to consider it as a cultural phenomenon beyond an impressive reflection of technological advancement.
Always having a screen to stare at, to scroll on, means a pre-built wall is readily available. It can be put up in a multitude of social situations sending non-verbal messages to others in your environment. You can say “I am a very busy person without the time for small talk.” Junior Kaitlyn Kinsey said the environment created is “not unfriendly, but it’s just like no one’s paying attention. It makes it harder to try and start conversations when everyone’s kind of off in their own world even if they’re right next to each other.”
Essentially, whether we realize we are saying it or not, going to the screen without even thinking conveys, “in this moment, communicating with others in my physical environment is not valuable enough.” Of course, having a bad day, being run down, can warrant not wanting to talk to strangers, and even friends, but before smartphones people had to cope with being in silence together.
However, typically, some level of social angst tends to be the culprit for avoiding a simple in-person conversation. With our phones always available as a wall to put up, opportunities for learning to overcome that angst dwindle. And what does that mean for us? Exchanging a few pleasantries doesn’t necessarily mean much so what are we really losing out on in those hallways, in the waiting rooms, in the car?
Well, we are losing the gift of space. Space between movements presents a chance to connect with the human being next to you. First, it’s “Hi, how are you, what’s your name.” Then, without expectation or force it can become a bloom.
Senior Cate Appleton voiced that spontaneous conversations, even when brief, with a classmate she doesn’t normally talk to, or someone she hasn’t met before, “brings a little joy to my day.” She enjoys “relating to people and even if it’s just little things, just knowing you’re not alone…and those little moments can accumulate and can make really great friendships.”
Appleton described choosing a phone over a person as, “missing 100 percent of the shots you don’t take…if you’re lost in this little world [on your phone] it just doesn’t compare to meeting people, to making connections.” Maybe in a dialogue with another person you talk about family, school, passions, the paralyzing headline you just read. In that space we can realize an overwhelming feeling of dire loneliness might be somewhat of an illusion.
I would argue this age of post-modern era technology is, on many levels, also the age of illusion. Influencers look “perfect”, we could never achieve that level of impeccability. Classmates go on the “perfect” spring break beach trip, how are they so fun and carefree? Liberalism is right, conservatism is wrong, and middle ground is a naive pipe dream, or vice versa. Isolation. Polarization. Alienation. And yet, we’re human beings.
As our material world exponentially advances our biology doesn’t match its rate. We still need a tribe. In today’s world, a tribe can be close friends, family, those who are similar to you, yes. But also, in today’s world, a tribe can be the threads we find lying around that actually sew together pretty nicely. From a kid in your math class you’ve never talked to to a stranger next to you on the plane, the possibilities of unexpected connection can exist as a well of hope.
What we need is to embrace a counter-culture movement that recognizes the ubiquity of screens and wonders about striking a better balance with them in our lives.
As a freshman at Campo, sophomore Aleah Mathai-Jackson felt motivated to be the person who pushed against the grain trying to overcome the reflex to turn to her phone. However, this motivation became weakened by disillusionment and the pull of conformity. “I saw it as an uphill battle so I sort of gave up,” Jackson said. She added, “if I saw other people trying I’d definitely make the effort.” More people than we may expect have the quiet desire to be present in the in-between spaces with one another.
Next time you feel the urge to reach for your phone or give in to disillusionment remember that a counter-culture movement is made up of people, of individuals, making choices. Individuals make choices based on a creative vision of another possible way to think things, to say things, to do things, to be. If we care enough about our vision then we should dig our heels in the sand and let all the waves that come wash over us. What matters is trusting that our legs can hold us up against the fall.
