Trapped in a cell?

As I type this I just texted my friend in New York for help with a project. I sent him details via email. It was so wonderfully quick and convenient. I love these tools. But what happens when they become more than tools? I guess this is one reason to blog – the RANT.


Yesterday, I showed the first hour and 10 minutes of Casablanca in one of my classes. I asked students to step outside of themselves and imagine it is 1941. We are at war. All of the men are gone. The people in the theater don’t know if their brothers, husbands and sons will come back. Think of the movie as a piece of propaganda for the war effort. Now, picture yourself in a movie theater in the 1960s (During its art house theater runs it gained the reputation of one of the greatest films ever made.) The time and the place changes and the way people look at the movie changes. Now it becomes not a movie about war, but a great love story. Look for the symbolism in the film; think about what you don’t understand historically about what is happening in the film. With all of that going on in your head – when do you have time to text in a dark theater? I was sad and hurt at how many of my students texted with impunity. It was just plain rude. So when does a tool become a crutch?

I asked my honors students to try a media fast and see how it felt. Interestingly, they fared well – except for the texting. I had several students say that it made them realize that texting is an addiction for them. A few even spoke of panic attacks over the thought of being disconnected. One student brought up a great point; she has always had a cell phone so giving it up was traumatic because she had never known a time without it. I remember when you couldn’t stray further and the edge of the kitchen with the phone. The cord would be stretched out sooo long as you struggled for a place to hide to have a conversation with your friends. Giving up the cell would be inconvenient but not traumatic.

So I have been sitting here thinking - what would be traumatic for me to give up. What have I loved in the way that this generation loves their cell phones? No doubt – my radio. In my pubescence the worst punishment was the confiscation of my radio. I loved it and I love it still. I would miss it desperately if I could never again enjoy talk radio, NPR, sports and music. Radio was my connection to the world and my first true love. I worked for several years as a radio personality and a news director. Eventually it broke my heart – radio is a cruel mistress – but that is a discussion for another time.