When I enter my first lecture, I make an unspoken commitment to actually pay attention this quarter and turn off wifi during class. Around minute 12, I remember Facebook. I think about the little red notifications that might be awaiting me. Then I remember that I have pledged to be a good student in 2017. By minute 18, the wifi is back on and my inbox, notifications and YouTube subscriptions have all been cleared.

I cannot remember what any of my notifications notified me of or what Instagram has shown me that I have not seen before. However, I, like my generational cohort, am addicted to screens of all types.

I am deeply afraid to find out how many hours per day I spend staring at screens. The notion that Americans devote more than 10 hours per day to “screen time” is existentially frightening. We spend more time lost in an illuminated contraption that burns blue into our retinas than we do sleeping. This truth is easily forgotten for the sake of convenience but also because there seems an innate pointlessness to what we do online. Most of the time I spend on my devices does not make my life any better. My time on the Internet is not serving me. In fact, it likely hurts me. Social media has created a new flavor of social anxiety that has irrevocably changed the way we interact, positively and negatively.   

What scares me the most, however, is how easy it is to be unaware of how much time we spend on screens. We forget that screens are just rectangles of metal and glass. A finite object has become the gateway into an addictive abyss. When laptops are left at home, we use cell phones. When Facebook is deactivated, we scroll through miles of Instagram feeds. The symptoms morph while the problem remains.

Change happens slowly and often invisibly but not without intention. Our environment is inching us closer to our devices, enabling a crippling dependence. The way out might not be clear, but it is possible. I still have not found a way to stay off of the Internet during class. To anyone I have distracted with my mid-lecture scrolling: For now, the best I can do is to stay conscious of my relationship with technology, and even more conscious of my relationship with the real world. If I’m going to be addicted to this 13-inch rectangle, I’d like to also be addicted to the thousands of cubic feet of scenery outside of it.  

Contact Ariel Kaufman at akaykauf ‘at’ stanford.edu.