Technoference in Disney World: Mindful Parenting Reflections from a Flying Elephant

“Technoference” is a relatively new term. So, if you don’t know what it means, don’t feel badly. Essentially, the term refers to an interruption in interpersonal communications, due to personal technological devices. In other words, technoference is what happens when you are staring at your phone while you’re spouse is telling you all about his day, and then suddenly, you look up—“I’m sorry, what?”

We’ve all been there. In fact, for most of us (including myself), we find ourselves
distracted by devices multiple times each day. More specifically, my interests lie in
uncovering just how much technoference may be impacting our children. How often are
we distracted in their presence? How often are they aware of that distraction? How does
it make them feel? And, how might an interruption in bonding and attachment influence
their future relationships with others? Coping mechanisms? It seems that the potential
ripple effects from the fracturing of such fundamental parts of human development (namely, attachment and bonding) seem to be endless.

Recently, my family took a trip to Disney World (a.k.a. “The Happiest Place on Earth).
Naturally, since the release of “Please, Look up at Me,” this topic of device distraction by
caregivers has really been at the forefront of my concerns with regard to my own
parenting behavior and modeling. After writing and publishing a book with such a
powerful message delivered, I’d better be practicing what I preach. Let me share with
you what I observed on our first tech-conscious family vacation to Disney World.

First—no phone? No fast pass.

In fairness, Disney is one of those places where it is in your best interest to be plugged
in. The Walt Disney World App is an essential part of doing this, as it houses dining
plans, tickets, FastPass+ reservations, and many other important considerations for an
ideal family vacation in Disney World, Florida. Even your hotel check-in can be done via
the app. It is also important to recognize that most families save for years in order to be
able to make the trip. Taking all of this into account, I expected that most families in the
park would require at least one member to be distracted by a smartphone, in an effort to
seamlessly navigate their crew. But, parents who miss the magical cue, “Mommy,
Look! Look at Me!” calls from their children, because of the addictive rectangular glow?
In the Happiest Place on Earth? The same place that they have saved thousands of dollars to finally come to?

Heartbreaking.

Next, I’ll be frank, but without judgement. This is all very new for me, and I’m also guilty
of technoference behavior. We are all in this together—a sweep of strong parents,
reflecting, adjusting, uniting, charging—into a stormy front that can make way for
sunnier days in the lives of our children. We have simply swung the tech-pendulum a bit
too far, in this case, letting it begin to creep into the unwelcomed territory of our
children’s best interests. Nothing that a pack of enlightened Mama-bears can’t pull back on…and we will.

The point of reflection.

For those of you who have already made the trip to Disney, Orlando, this is where I ask
you to envision Magic Kingdom’s, “Dumbo the Flying Elephant.” For those of you who
don’t know the park, the Dumbo ride is a young child’s favorite—great for all ages. One
of the best parts of this ride is that there is a fairly sizable indoor playground about
halfway through the wait of the line. This makes the ride more inviting for parents and
children alike, particularly when the average wait time for any ride is about 45 minutes, as it was when we travelled there over February break.

About 15 minutes into the line, we entered a large circus tent. A lovely Dumbo attendant
greeted us by asking how many were in our party, handed us a “buzzer” and ushered us
into a large play area, with tunnels, climbers and slides—reminiscent of Chuckie Cheese or similar indoor playground. My children? Already off and running. Kurt and I were thrilled to see that there were seats for the exhausted parents—like us. Sitting there in my Disney haze, I finally felt like I had a chance to be next to my husband for a solid 10-15 minutes, watching our children in all of their awe. A mini date. Thank you, Dumbo the Flying Elephant.

Breathing in all of the excitement, I really saw and heard a powerful depiction of the digitally distracted era that we are in the throws of.

Of the parents sitting and standing among us, I’d say about 75%, were not connected or
even speaking to one another. Looking down at their phones, they seemed to have
missed that magical moment when two partners look at each other, and despite their
intense exhaustion, know that the joy radiating from their children has made it all
worthwhile. Looking back on past trips, I know that I’ve done the same.

The result of missing those simple, silent, bonding moments? Resentment, frustration,
competing thoughts and accusations of which parent is “more exhausted, “ which parent
“does more,” and a tense state that the children would not only pick up on, but feel
anxious about. My point? Those quiet moments of reflection together, observing the
fruits of our labor—even in an exhausted state, are such a crucial part of our relationship and loving bond.

The ties that bind us, robbed by the addictive elements of these portable, screened devices. And, what about our children?

Looking up, children all around the room chanted with the same kinds of calls.

“Mommy! Look! Look what I can do!”
“Daddy! Look how high I am!”
“I did it!! Look! I did it!”

Standing with their noses pressed against the meshed netting of a tunnel, so hopeful
that someone would look up at them with pride at the obstacle that they’ve successfully
achieved. Then, the very obvious disappointment on their faces when they realize that
they cannot compete with a rectangular, glowing device that has stolen their caregiver’s
attention— it’s something that I hope stays with me as a constant parental reminder.
And, what about the little girl who was frightened? She found herself in the middle of
one of the obstacles, panicked. She wanted OUT. Frozen by her fear, she just sat there,
crying for help. I scanned through all of the parents around me, unable to identify
someone who may be her “match,” looking back at her. After longer than felt
comfortable, a couple of older children seemed to guide her out. She ran quickly as she
could, still panicked, to her “person”—who was still captured by the screen. All was
ultimately fine for that child, but I wonder if that caregiver would ever know about his child’s fear of Dumbo’s Big Top Playground.

As a bystander, you want to reach out and say “excuse me, but your child really is
hoping for your to look up.” We haven’t reached that place yet—not the way we have
with other concerns for our children. We will. But for now, instead—I just stood there
and gave a thumbs up and a smile to any child who’s gaze I could catch. I responded to
my own children and made sure that my eyes were available to them when they were
eager to share their excitement with me. I nudged my husband’s shoulder with mine,
and made sure to give a nod to him as if to lovingly and proudly say, “we’re doing the parenting thing, Babe.”

And then the buzzer vibrates in my hand. It’s time to move forward…

This trip was more successful than our last. And, that’s the thing—it’s all about growing
together as a parental community— all of us. I trust that we will continue to grow, learn, and evolve together, settling into a united front on this.

I just never expected such wisdom from a flying elephant.

Crazy Talk. Or, is it? – Smart Phones, Cigarettes, and Our Children

Despite what my children may believe, I am not old. At 38, I can recall with ease back to the days when smoking cigarettes was allowed in restaurants. In fact, I remember that as a teenage waitress, my assigned area was almost notoriously the “smoking section” of the restaurant, because some of the senior waitresses couldn’t stand the smell. I did as I was told, never thinking anything of it. Parents smoked in their cars with their children. No big deal. Not that long ago, the thought of asking someone to put their cigarette out or to refrain from smoking in the presence of their children was still considered taboo, if not rude. Fast forward to 2020, and now it is commonplace for restaurants and public establishments to be smoke-free. Light a cigarette in front of a child and prepare to be confronted about it. Under the clean indoor air laws, smoking is now prohibited within school buildings and on school grounds in most states. We know the harmful effects. Heck, we knew it back in the 50’s, but we needed to listen to, process the information, campaign and move…together. And, you know what? We did it for them, for ourselves and for our future generations. As with every new era, comes new challenges and needs for evolution and change. Here we are in 2020, and the issue is no longer smoking. Cue: Screens. Specifically, smart phones.

There’s no denying the evidence suggesting that our smart phones are causing negative health effects. We even have a medical diagnosis for smart phone addiction (it’s Nomophobia, by the way). Look for yourself-you don’t have to dig very deep to find it. We have developed difficulties with sleeping, anxiety, compulsive web surfing, loneliness, depression, even vision and balance disturbances. In some cases, relationships are on the fringe, compulsive use of these devices are interfering with one’s ability to be productive at work and, possibly worst of all, one’s ability to safely drive a vehicle. The issue has become so massive and widely recognized, that it is almost too overwhelming to broach. Until it affects our children. Reminiscent of the aforementioned smoking issue, the rumblings have started.

Now, let me first say, I come in peace. My weapons are down and my position is non-judgemental. In fact, I’m just as phone obsessed as the average, exhausted mother sitting next to me. I do not have any fancy letters or achievements attached to the end of my name. I’m simply a mother, teacher, and imperfect human learning as I move in a forward direction at the best pace I can. With that said, parenting and teaching are, without question, two of the most challenging jobs on the planet. When it comes to the best interest of our children, we are the rhetorical “boots on the ground.” In my 15+ years as a public school teacher and 6+ years as a parent, here’s what I’ve learned: they’re watching us. Groundbreaking, I know.

Seriously though, think of it like this—have you ever tried to convince a child that they should be putting “greens” on their plate when they’ve been watching you eat a lone slice of pizza for dinner, for years? It’s not convincing. Despite how fundamental it sounds, our smart phone issue is the same. Perhaps, though, it is more detrimental and pressing, as our habits could essentially be telling our babies about their worth. Does that sound crazy? It isn’t.

In one 2018 study by Psychology Today, a parallel is drawn between the “ Still Face Paradigm ” developed by Ed Tronick, and the “ Still Face with Device .” If you don’t know about it, it is worth checking out. Essentially, the study documents how interaction, facial expression and mutual responsiveness between a parent and child evokes positive feelings and emotions for both caregivers and children. On the contrary, a caregiver who presents what we refer to as a “still face”—unresponsive and still, evokes distress, despondency or anxiety in the babies. When the experimental task was tested using a smart phone device, the findings remained the same. Devastatingly, some reports point out that this widespread epidemic of device distracted parenting has lead to children believing that we love our phones more than we love them. Can we even blame them for thinking that?

Well, we know that children are not born with an understanding of what a smart phone is. Instead, they are born knowing our voices. They are born with an
innate desire and need for human connection, bonding, nurturing and love. What we need to remember as caregivers, is that babies today do not know a world without smart phones the way they we did. What happens when they arrive on this planet to meet us, to bond with us, to interact with us, and we are distracted?
What are we teaching them? What are they learning about relationships? Further, what will their future friendships, dating relationships, marriages, etc. be like, if we allow for their foundation of human connection to continue to crumble? As noted in ABC New’s 2019 Screen Time and Kids: New Findings Parents Need to Know, young children require face-to-face interaction. Without it, they will struggle to reach developmental milestones, learn empathy, understand emotion, and build language and social skills.

Visit a local playground and you will see plenty of parents alongside of their children. For those of us that remember our Child Development classes, are we engaging in parallel or associative play? Are we present and engaged in what our children are doing? Watch a family movie in the average American living room and you will see adults looking at their phones while the children absorb the tale on their own. Dine out at a family restaurant and you can easily find a smartphone resting on a tabletop—perhaps positioned between spouses or parent and child. Again, I’m guilty of it all, too. But what are we replacing? What are these addictive little devices doing to the way that our children feel about themselves, their bond with us, their value? Our actions speak louder than anything, and over time, it snowballs. It is no wonder why we are inundated with reports of children feeling unimportant and having to compete with smart phones for parents’ attention, as well as sadness and anger. These concerns related to smart phone use don’t even begin to scratch the surface of what we already have documented. But, guess what? The digital era is certainly not going away—in fact, we know that it will only expand further and become more of a complex issue than it already is. Smart phones serve a purpose for all of us, but like anything else—too much of anything is problematic. We need a movement.

Where do we go from here? We start setting boundaries. Did you know that Bill Gates didn’t let his children get a cell phone until they turned 14? Steve Jobs raised his children tech-free and prohibited them from using an iPad ( Business Insider , 2010). While it would be unrealistic to expect that any of us can remove smart devices from our lives, perhaps we should limit our children’s exposure to us using them. Many of us have heard of the “ Wait Until 8th ” pledge that is aimed at rallying together in an effort to delay a child’s smart phone use until 8th grade. Similar to that movement, I suggest we make every reasonable effort to keep our distracting devices hidden from our babies. They’ve come here to meet us, to love us, to bond with us—and heaven knows that caring for a child is exhausting and difficult. But, it’s the most beautiful and rewarding privilege in the world. Our children deserve our attention and they deserve to know that they are abso-freakin-lutely worth it. How can we start? As with any other campaign, we start moving forward. Together. Slowly. It may be difficult at first. In fact, it may even result in anger, irritability, or anxiety. Keep going. Set ground rules for yourself and for your home. Maybe this effort means that there are no smart phones at the dinner table or making eye contact at school pick up time. If you already do those things—Bravo! Raise the bar higher. No smart phones in the family room or in the bedroom (your relationship with your partner matters, too!). Play board games and put puzzles together. Take a walk outside together. Talk about goals, dreams, aspirations and make believe. Have a dance party. Visit a park or library. Read books. “Please, Look up at Me” is a children’s book that can act as a timely and relevant conversation starter on this topic of smart phones vs. human connection. Read it together, discuss it. Ask questions. The children will tell us
exactly what they need. It is our job to listen, process, campaign and move….together. And you know what? We will do it for them, for ourselves, and for our future generations.