When Did We Stop Talking to Each Other?
I open the classroom door and step inside. A teacher’s desk and projector screen sit at the front of the room. About forty tablet-arm chairs fill the room, set in five neat columns that run from the teacher’s desk at the front all the way to the back wall. Shades cover two large windows along the left wall, with thin lines of light at their edges. Overhead, LED lights shine brightly, spreading an even light across the room. The clock on the back wall reads 4:26 p.m.
Spread out among the columns of chairs are 15 of my classmates, who sit completely motionless except for their thumbs. Their hands grasp tightly onto thin rectangular devices, smooth and flat, that sit neatly in their palms. Each one has a glossy glass front lit with bright colors. I notice the small motions my classmates make on the screens of their devices. Sometimes it's a click, other times a swipe. Occasionally a head pops up for a brief second, and then it pops back down.
I sit down in a seat close to the front of the room, turn to the classmate in the chair to my left and ask in a whisper, “So where are you for Shabbos in the end?” No response. He sits motionless, his head faced downward, his pupils fixed on the screen.
I turn forward. Birds chirp to one another outside the window. Quick, high notes trade back and forth. Cars rush by on the street below. A horn honks. Construction workers drill in the distance. Inside the classroom, the only audible noise is the clock ticking with its steady, mechanical clicks. I glance back. The time is now 4:27 p.m.
I’ve been told that my experience is pretty standard, even expected. But recently, I’ve been wondering: Is this normal? Are we all meant to sit together in silence, staring at our phones until class begins?
What may seem like a harmless habit carries consequences that extend far beyond a few quiet minutes before class. Without casual conversation, people begin to feel isolated from one another and loneliness quietly takes hold. Making new friends becomes an ever-increasing challenge, especially as we move through college and existing friend groups harden into place. People are more likely to slip through the cracks, never quite finding a place to belong.
By staying glued to our phones, we also miss out on the moments that keep us grounded. We replace the small and relaxing conversations with friends that break up an eventful day with endless doomscrolling that leaves us more on edge than before. By checking notifications between classes we forget to let our minds rest and neglect the people around us in the process. Campus becomes more of a place people pass through between classes than a real community.
K–12 schools across the country, including many Jewish schools, have begun implementing phone-free policies to address this exact problem. Educators report that once phones were removed, students began talking more in hallways and socializing in the few minutes prior to class. This helps students build a social network in the microsphere and a school community more broadly.
Colleges do not implement phone-free policies, not because distraction suddenly disappears at 18, but because we’re trusted as adults. But that trust must come with a sense of responsibility. If high schoolers are being forced to hand in phones to protect them from distraction, then we must demonstrate that we can create an engaged community without such measures. The burden of proof is on us.
The problem is that when everyone else is on their phones, it can feel almost impossible to act any differently. There have certainly been times when I’ve come to class and had nothing better to do than join the army of phone-scrollers. And that’s exactly why I’m writing this article. For real change to occur, it won’t happen by one or two individuals deciding to be intentional with their tech habits. It takes all of us.
So the next time you walk into a class a few minutes early, don’t just sit down and scroll on your phone to pass the time. Say “hi” to a classmate, or better yet, introduce yourself to someone you don’t know yet.
Change won’t happen in a day. But it starts the moment we decide to look up and say “hello.”
Photo Caption: Yeshiva students on their phones before class
Photo Credit: Aiden Melkin
