(The forthcoming book: From the Principal’s Desk – A Journey of Lessons)
Dr Arun Prakash
I often tell parents during school meetings, “Our children’s first word used to be ‘Mama’ or ‘Papa,’ but these days, it feels like it’s ‘Wi-Fi’.” They laugh, but there’s a nervous edge to it. They know it’s true. The glow of a screen has become the lullaby for many kids, the babysitter when we’re busy, and sadly, the silent intruder at our dining tables.
Let me share a story. A mother once came to me, exasperated, about her nine-year-old son, Aarav. “Sir,” she said, “he won’t eat unless I give him my phone. If I take it away, he refuses to sleep or even talk to us. I feel like I’ve lost him to this screen!” She wasn’t exaggerating. Aarav had reached the point where his world revolved around gaming apps and YouTube videos. The tantrums weren’t just tantrums—they were withdrawals. Aarav’s story isn’t unique. It’s the story of millions of families today.
Mobile addiction is subtle and often disguised as progress. We justify it by saying, “At least they’re learning something,” or “It keeps them quiet.” But is it really learning? Is it truly enriching their lives? Catherine Price, in her book How to Break Up with Your Phone, describes how technology is engineered to hook us. Every like, share, or notification releases dopamine, making us crave more. Children, with their developing self-control, are particularly vulnerable.
Let me contrast this with the kind of learning that shaped me. When I wanted to explore the epics, I didn’t just listen to stories; I sought out the works of Banabhatta, Kalidasa, and Vishakhadatta. When Buddha’s teachings fascinated me—especially his profound stance that questions about God and heaven are “Avyaktani Prasnani,” or unanswerable questions—I didn’t stop at surface-level ideas. I read the Jataka Tales and Buddhist scriptures, letting them challenge and deepen my understanding. This depth of engagement is what we risk losing in the era of swipe, scroll, and click.
But let’s not throw the baby out with the bathwater. Screens aren’t inherently evil; they’re tools. Like any tool, their value depends on how they’re used. A hammer can build a home or break a window—it’s the intent and discipline behind its use that matters. So how much screen time is too much?
For toddlers aged 2-5, experts recommend limiting screen time to one hour a day, and even that should be high-quality, interactive content. The focus at this stage should be on play and exploration, as screens cannot replace the real-world experiences crucial for their development.
For primary school children (6-12 years), two hours a day is a reasonable boundary. This includes both educational and recreational use. It’s essential to monitor the content and ensure children are also engaging in physical activities, reading, and social interactions.
For early teens (13-15 years), three hours a day might work as an upper limit, depending on their needs. This age group requires guidance in managing their time, balancing academics, hobbies, and social interactions. Parents should discuss and set expectations collaboratively, ensuring that screen time doesn’t dominate their daily routine.
For older teens and young adults (16-18 years), the goal should shift from rigid limits to teaching self-regulation. Screens are integral to academics and socializing at this age, but excessive usage—beyond 4 hours daily, including schoolwork—can negatively impact their physical health and sleep. Encouraging mindfulness about their digital habits and emphasizing the importance of breaks can help them navigate this stage.
Of course, these are guidelines, not hard rules. Every child is unique, and screen time should also consider individual needs, such as academic requirements or special interests. However, what applies universally is the need for balance.
One effective strategy I’ve seen families adopt is to designate one digital-free hour every evening. During this time, no one in the house—parents included—uses any screens. It might sound daunting at first, but imagine this: the family gathers to cook dinner, play cards, or simply share stories about their day. Initially, children might complain, but soon they start looking forward to this uninterrupted family time.
Another approach is the “Tech-Free Tuesday” rule. A family I know instituted this, and it transformed their relationships. Without screens to distract them, they started exploring hobbies together—painting, gardening, or even staging impromptu plays. The point isn’t just to reduce screen time but to replace it with moments that deepen bonds and create lasting memories.
I often tell parents that children are mirrors. If we’re glued to our phones during family dinners, we can’t expect them to behave differently. When I reflect on my own upbringing, I realize that my love for reading was partly inspired by the adults around me, who valued books and deep conversations.
The same principle applies today. When children see us embracing curiosity, engaging in discussions, and finding joy outside screens, they naturally follow suit. Imagine a home where the dining table buzzes with conversations instead of notifications, where children see books not as relics of the past but as doorways to adventure.
Parenting in the digital age isn’t easy, and I empathize with the challenges. Screens are everywhere—entwined with education, communication, and even relaxation. But as I often say, the easiest way to help your child unplug is to plug into their world yourself. Ask them about their day, share a story from your childhood, or sit beside them as they explore a topic online.
The next time your child reaches for a screen, pause and ask yourself: Could this moment be spent in a more meaningful way? Flying kites may not be my idea of fun, but playing chess, building a model, or simply talking about the stars can create memories that no screen can replicate.
Screens will always be part of our lives, but they should never dominate them. By balancing technology with connection, creativity, and curiosity, we can ensure our children grow up not just with devices in their hands but with dreams in their hearts.
