(The forthcoming book: From the Principal’s Desk – A Journey of Lessons)
Dr Arun Prakash
It was a lazy Sunday afternoon when I visited a friend’s house. As we sat sipping lemon water and chatting about the mundane, I noticed his three-year-old niece sitting quietly in a corner. “She’s so disciplined!” I exclaimed, impressed by her calm demeanour. My friend gave a sly smile and replied, “Well, wait till you see her in action.” Curious, I walked over to her. There she was, clutching a mobile phone, swiping through apps with the dexterity of a seasoned IT professional. “She’s watching her favourite show on YouTube,” my friend said, laughing. “She even skips ads better than me.”
I was dumbfounded. At her age, I could barely differentiate between the red crayon and the blue one, and here she was navigating the digital world like a pro. It was adorable, no doubt, but also a little unsettling. Technology is no longer a tool we introduce to children at an appropriate age—it’s a natural part of their lives from the moment they can hold a device.
When I think back to my own childhood, it feels like a different planet. In the 1970s, technology was virtually non-existent in Indian villages. There was no television to squabble over, no comic books to borrow from a friend. Entertainment was simple: playing in the open fields, inventing games with whatever we could find, and—my favorite—sitting with elders to listen to their stories. Every older person in the village was like a grandparent to us. We’d gather at their homes, under a neem tree, or by the village well to hear their fascinating tales. These weren’t just stories; they were life lessons wrapped in folklore, history, and humour. While I was fortunate to have access to books at home—my haven of knowledge and imagination—many children relied solely on these oral treasures for education and entertainment.
Contrast that with today’s children, for whom the digital world is their playground. The virtual universe has its benefits, but the risks it carries are equally vast. The dangers aren’t as obvious as a bull chasing you out of a field or tripping over a cricket bat. Instead, they lurk behind colourful apps, catchy notifications, and seemingly harmless games.
Take Aarav, a ten-year-old boy at one of the schools I’ve led. His parents barged into my office one morning, visibly agitated. “Sir, he’s asking for ₹2,500 to buy a diamond!” his mother exclaimed. For a moment, I was as puzzled as she was—diamonds for a ten-year-old? Then it all made sense. Aarav had been playing an online game that required purchasing virtual diamonds to level up his character. He’d clicked “Buy Now,” blissfully unaware of the actual cost.
Online games often employ clever tricks to manipulate young minds. Bright colours, rewards, and countdown timers create a sense of urgency, making children believe they absolutely need that next upgrade. Aarav wasn’t being careless—he was being targeted. According to UNICEF’s “Child Safety Online”, such games often exploit children’s lack of understanding about money.
“Should we just ban these games?” his parents asked me. I shook my head. Banning isn’t the solution. Instead, we must teach children how these systems work. Aarav’s parents turned the incident into a lesson, explaining the difference between real and virtual money. The goal isn’t to restrict children but to guide them through this digital labyrinth.
Of course, games aren’t the only culprits in the digital world. One of the most troubling issues I’ve seen is cyberbullying. Back in my day, bullying meant a shove in the playground or a snide remark during lunch. It was unpleasant but manageable—most of the time, an elder could intervene. Today, bullying has gone virtual. It sneaks into children’s lives through their phones, follows them into their bedrooms, and leaves scars that can’t always be seen.
I remember Riya, a bright and confident student who suddenly became withdrawn. Her grades plummeted, and she stopped participating in group activities. After much coaxing, her teacher discovered the reason: Riya was being bullied in a WhatsApp group created by her classmates. The group was filled with cruel jokes and memes targeting her appearance and personality. “It follows me everywhere,” she confided. “Even at home, I can’t escape it.”
Riya’s story is far from unique. A Microsoft survey revealed that 37% of Indian teenagers have experienced cyberbullying. What’s worse, most cases go unreported because children fear being scolded or misunderstood. Riya’s parents initially thought the solution was to take away her phone, but that would have only isolated her further. Instead, with the help of her parents and teachers, the issue was addressed, and the bullies were held accountable.
UNICEF’s Protecting children online emphasizes the importance of empathy and communication in tackling such situations. What Riya needed wasn’t punishment—it was support.
But let’s not forget the brighter side of technology. When used responsibly, it can lead to incredible outcomes. I’ll never forget Aditya, a 14-year-old boy from Delhi who used his smartphone to organize a community recycling drive. Disturbed by the growing piles of plastic waste in his neighbourhood, he built a simple website to track waste collection and used WhatsApp to coordinate efforts. In just a few months, Aditya’s initiative collected over two tons of plastic, which was sent for recycling.
Aditya’s father later admitted, “I thought he was wasting time on his phone!” Stories like this remind us that technology is a tool—it’s up to us to teach children how to use it for good. UNESCO’s “Child Online Safety” stresses the importance of encouraging positive digital engagement while mitigating risks.
Even adults aren’t immune to online traps. A friend of mine recently fell for a deal that seemed too good to be true—a luxury wristwatch at an unbeatable price. The website looked professional, complete with glowing reviews. Tempted, he placed an order. When the package finally arrived, he eagerly opened it, only to find a poorly made counterfeit. “Well, at least I got a toy for my nephew,” he joked, trying to save face. If a savvy adult can fall for these tricks, imagine how vulnerable children are.
Dr. Mary Aiken’s “The Cyber Effect” explores how even the most careful individuals can be duped online, emphasizing the need for digital awareness.
Parents often ask me for practical advice. One of my favourite stories comes from a parent in Bengaluru who created a “digital contract” with her 12-year-old son. The contract wasn’t about enforcing rules but building trust. It included clauses like “No phones during meals,” “Ask before downloading apps,” and “Share suspicious messages with me.” My favourite clause was the humorous one: “If caught using the phone after bedtime, Mom gets to use it for a week—and she’ll post embarrassing selfies!”
Such initiatives strike the perfect balance between structure and trust. Diana Graber’s “Raising Humans in a Digital World” provides excellent templates for parents looking to create similar agreements.
Schools, too, have a vital role. At one of my previous institutions, we launched “Digital Literacy Days” where students learned about privacy, online etiquette, and spotting fake news. I still remember a student asking, “Sir, can hackers really see me through my webcam?” The answer, unfortunately, is yes—if precautions aren’t taken. Such programs are essential. The United Nations’ “Child and Youth Safety Online” provides frameworks for incorporating digital literacy into school curricula.
It’s not just children who need guidance—parents do too. Schools and organizations should organize cybersecurity workshops for parents. These sessions can cover topics like setting up parental controls, recognizing phishing scams, and fostering open conversations with children about their online activities. A well-informed parent is a child’s first line of defence in the digital world.
As parents and educators, our responsibility isn’t to block children from the internet but to prepare them for it. With the right knowledge and guidance, the next Aditya could use technology to address the very challenges we’re worried about today.
Next: Managing stress, anxiety, and mental health.