Radio Silence

I have to go 30 days without talking to my kid.

Unsplash (public domain)

I have emerged briefly from the book-writing fog. My manuscript is now fully written, and while there is still lots of work to do, it has been handed off to the publisher for review before I continue editing. The last few months have been a whirlwind of frantic writing (on top of all the travel I’ve been doing), so it hasn’t been easy. I felt extremely relieved to attach that 135-page file to an email and press send. It is still rough, but it’s there, it’s formed, and there’s plenty of material to work with.

As soon as I sent it off, I got up from my chair and went outside. I walked along the edge of Lake Huron in a daze, feeling the sunshine on my face and emotions welling up inside me—because writing a book is an utterly draining process. It reminds me of having a baby. And like having my children, it took a painfully long time to name the book! Finally, it has one: Hold the Phone: How Parents Can Rescue Their Kids From Too Much Screen Time. It will be out in November 2026, which seems far away, but no doubt it’ll be here before I know it.

I can’t wait to tell you more, but that’ll have to be another post. For now, other thoughts are percolating in my mind.

‘The Gift You’re Not Giving’

My oldest son, who’s in grade 11 right now, is leaving in August for a year abroad. He’s been accepted by the Rotary Youth Exchange program, a fantastic organization that has been running these exchanges for the better part of a century, and he is going to Japan. Countries are assigned, not chosen, so Japan came as a shock to him; I think he’d envisioned spending a year skiing in the Alps or swimming in the Mediterranean Sea. Instead, he’ll be living somewhere in Hiroshima Prefecture, an environment he can’t even yet imagine. We’re still waiting to hear who his host families will be. He will attend high school (in Japanese!) and is expected to immerse himself in the culture and learn as much of the language as he can.

There are multiple days of training hosted by the Rotary Youth Exchange in the lead-up to his departure, mainly for students but also for parents. His dad and I attended a full-day session a few weeks ago, and it was neat to hear the organizers explain that the mission of the program is to build world peace. A century ago, its founders figured that one of the best ways to promote cross-cultural understanding is to send teenagers to live in different countries, and now they do it for thousands of students each year. I was one of those students, too, way back in 2003, when I did the same program to Sardinia, Italy.

One of the most interesting points that came up during that day of training—and the one I want to share with Analog Family readers—is the concept of a 30-day communication blackout. The organizers expect us parents not to talk to our kids for the first month of their exchange, apart from an initial text or email to indicate they’ve arrived safely. The goal is to allow them to connect with their host family, to immerse themselves in language acquisition, and to ride out the inevitable emotions of fear and regret and homesickness without a portal to home, which would only exacerbate the negative feelings.

It’s completely normal for a kid to call home on day three and say, “I’ve made a terrible mistake. Get me out of here,” and the parental instinct is to rescue them. But we can’t do that. They have to turn to their host family and work through their struggles with a new support network that very much wants them to succeed.

One of the trainers described it in this way:

“You’re giving your kid the most amazing gift in the world, which is this opportunity to live abroad. But if you keep communicating with them, it’s like you’re holding out this present for them to receive, but you’re not truly giving it to them. You hold on, never letting go. They never get to open it.”

While the thought of not speaking to my son for a month is heart-wrenching, especially as he goes through one of the most formative and challenging experiences of his life, I understand why it’s worth doing. My mother and I wrote long handwritten letters when I was in Sardinia; and while it felt cathartic to pour out my emotions on paper, any interpersonal issues or homesickness were inevitably resolved by the time she received the letter, and certainly by the time I received a response. In retrospect, I’m grateful for having done my exchange in a pre-smartphone/social media era. I had an email address but used it minimally; what I’m left with now is a box of letters that document that entire year in detail. It’s one of my most treasured belongings.

This Applies to All of Us

I got thinking about the man’s analogy—a gift that’s never fully relinquished by the giver to its recipient—and I believe it is a valuable lesson for parents in many different circumstances, not just those whose kids are heading off on exchange. A great number of parents talk to their kids all day long by text, even when they’re at school, and that’s not a good thing. It deprives kids of the opportunity to immerse themselves fully in the job of learning, and that’s not fair to a kid. Parents should not engage in gratuitous communication that undermines their children’s ability to focus and retain information at school.

For good reason, smartphones have been described as “the world’s longest umbilical cord.” They tether the child to the parent, making it all too easy for them to text a parent for advice or emotional support, instead of dealing with problems on their own—and boosting their own sense of capability in the process. This doesn’t mean a kid can’t debrief and discuss with a parent later, but a kid should learn to confront a problem head-on in the moment without relying on a little parental voice in their ear, telling them what to do.

More Isn’t Better

We live in a time when “communication” (in its many varied forms) is praised as the be-all and end-all, a thing we should always strive to have more of, but I don’t think that’s the case. There can be too much communication. It can reach a point of information overload, mental paralysis, a flurry of facts that impedes a person’s ability to think clearly, to make decisions autonomously, to live fully in the present. It’s OK to be quiet sometimes, to go radio silent, to absorb an experience and simply exist in the moment without sharing a detailed play-by-play with anyone else.

If more parents practiced short daily communication blackouts with their kids, then the idea of doing it for a longer period of time wouldn’t feel quite so shocking, and it would be good for everyone. Parents and kids alike would be able to focus on their jobs and education, respectively, and save up interesting stories and observations for a more animated dinner conversation. Most importantly, kids would be granted an opportunity to experience psychological independence and become their own person, confident in their ability to navigate the ups and downs of everyday life. You might want to give it a try.

You Might Also Like:

• Why I Don’t Homeschool

• Yes, Please Talk to My Kid!

• Stop Calling Kids ‘Digital Natives’

In the News:

On Monday, March 23, I did a live Q&A for The Globe and Mail, Canada’s largest newspaper, on social media’s effects on kids and teens. For an hour, I responded to questions from readers that touched on all aspects of social media and young people’s tech use. There was supposed to be two of us answering questions, but the other woman went into labour and had a baby a few hours before the session began, so it was (quite understandably) all on me! I had a lot of fun doing it, and you can read the questions and answers here.

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