My Journey to Make a Phone-Free School, part 4
The giant-sized conclusion, with actual advice!
Okay - if you’re still reading and ever catch me at a conference or just around my haunts, tell me the code phrase at the end of this installment, and I will buy you a drink. We don’t even have to talk about phones.
Thanks for reading and taking part in my therapy. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3.
Bringing it Back to School
I returned to my principal to debrief after my horrible, not-so-good meeting (last time). He’s a company man, so I kept the personal commentary and my feelings about the participants to a minimum. He said we should return the idea to the Leadership Team Meeting (last seen in Part 2).
So I did. This was in early November of ‘23. We were losing time, and I had given up the idea of adopting Yondr pouches by the spring semester. Fine—good. Let’s resuscitate this and get things going for at least the fall of the ‘24-’25 school year.
I presented to the Lead Team again, this time with an update about meeting with the Superintendent and her proxies. I also had the sample to pass around. If anything, the faculty was more enthusiastic about adopting the pouches three months into the school year. Go figure. There were still questions, but I was able to field them all.
We, the Lead Team members, were instructed to present this to our respective departments at our meetings and bring feedback to the next meeting. Our principal was adamant that he wouldn’t proceed with this unless the whole faculty were on board.
I had no idea what the subjective-sounding “whole faculty” or “proceed” meant since there was only one school and zero dollars. Still, I shared my Google research folder with every Lead Team member and said I’d make myself available to talk to any department during their meetings and answer any questions.
It was said that we’d discuss this at the next meeting and, depending on what the faculty says, move from there.
I wasn’t invited to a single departmental meeting or asked any questions. I showed the sample pouch and talked about it to anyone with ears that lingered too long in my presence. Despite not attending all the departmental meetings, I felt things were pretty solid, and many of my colleagues assured me that the support was there. I wasn’t being shafted — everyone was busy, and I was able to get the word out to lots of folks.
December’s Lead Team Meeting came, and the pouches weren’t on the agenda.
Okay — you can disagree with me all you want, but I was still raw from the treatment I got at the earlier meeting with the central folks and growing increasingly wary over the gulf between what people say and what they do when it comes to “doing what’s best for kids.”
The December meeting had a full agenda, and like all school meetings, the point was to agree and leave, not to ask questions or express a desire to discuss things. To my shame (which I justified in my head), I didn’t bring it up.
Two notes of personal privilege, since my name is in the byline:
Yeah, I’ve beat myself up over the decision not to bring it up at that meeting, but I refuse to believe that this whole thing's success or failure (spoilers) hinged on that small bit. I’ve had enough courage to push this along from the earliest days, but I was just a little tired.
I don’t mean for Teacher Teacher to get political (that’s a lie), but there is a Joe Biden quote I think about a lot: “Don't tell me what you value; show me your budget, and I'll tell you what you value.”
I think about that quote and how it applies here, in this battle, not only in terms of money but also time, attention, and energy.
It was a little petty of me, but I felt a message had been sent. Perhaps the overall reluctance and indifference I felt from…every angle on this caught up to me. If this were important, it would have been on the agenda. Or the administration would have mentioned it to me once between that meeting and the end of the school year.
I took it as a message. I was tired and worn out, so I retreated. I needed to regroup and rethink my approach.
On the Usefulness of Hail Marys
We were into early 2024 now, and I had one option left. I was going to go to a school board meeting and confront the Board on the issue of phones, perhaps angrily.
Thanks to my wife and trusted friends, I quickly realized there was a better way—one that didn’t potentially result in me losing my job and possibly being dragged out by a deputy sheriff.
I would email the chair of the Board and ask to meet. But I’d emailed Board members with questions before and never heard back. In my mind, I was ticking off boxes to make sure I covered every base before I gave up. This was it—my last hope. Email away. It’s not-too-subtle message:
The Board chair agreed right away. We had a back-and-forth about when and where, and to my pleasure, she said that the board vice-chair would attend as well. The Board vice-chair was a student at my old school when I was first getting going as a teacher, so that was terrific — I already knew him.
I met with the Board chair and co-chair at our city’s central library on February 12th. It was a tremendous meeting. I felt they could see and hear me; my input was valued and respected. And then things went crazier.
I was explaining solutions to their concerns, and somehow, the idea went from possibly two schools to more (an even more robust data set). Outside funding was discussed as we all thought that there were individuals, foundations, and groups that could be approached, either because they believed in the cause or would have use for the bragging rights.
Sidenote - the “bragging rights” angle I used and continue to use as a sales pitch. “Don’t underestimate the power of smug,” I would say. It’s known that tech executives tend to send their kids to low or no-tech schools like the Waldorf Schools. What parents wouldn’t want to be more like our modern-day aristocracy for no reason other than feeling smug?
“Oh, you send your student to xxxx School? Do they still allow them to use phones? Do you know what that does to their brains (sniff)? Tiffy and Hunter? We’d never send them anywhere except to a school that doesn’t allow those mind-destroying devices.”
Rather than making parents not want to send students to our school, I hold that the pouches and strict policy would attract parents who understood the vision or wanted to feel superior to the parents down the block. Perhaps not the most above-board tactic, but I knew everything would be thrown at us once this idea reached parents. Why not have some ammo already set up? And after a couple of years, we’d have data that would back us up.
Back to the meeting: They got it. They had read some (it was rather voluminous by then) of the research and were conversant on the larger picture. I advised them to stick with the erosion of attention and critical thinking—things that the (still) MIA Deeper Learning initiative would need.
Jon Haidt probably feels pain as I write this, but I advised them to only lightly touch on the harm caused by social media since critics can cast (and dismiss) that as a moral panic. They agreed—there were more than enough reasons to do something about phones in schools that didn’t even touch on the evil of social media.
Sidenote: I fear that cell phone bans from schools will become enormously politicized now that Gavin Newsom (D-CA) has entered the game with his plans to ban them in California classrooms (the fact that Indiana (R) and Florida (R) are doing the same with their weaksauce bans will be forgotten in the fog of election year war).
I mean, it’s an election year—any politician up for reelection only has to say, “I think we should tap the breaks on banning cell phones in schools; it doesn’t feel very freedom to me,” and they’ll find a Scrooge McDuck-style bag of money on their desk with a note, “All our love, Meta” on it the next day, right?
Anyway - meeting at the library. The train had been set back on the tracks, and coal had been shoveled into the boiler.
My optimism and hope returned and multiplied. As always, I emailed after thanking them, offering time and resources, etc. I was ready to do the road show with them if they needed me, I’d bring the sample pouch and a jazzy dance number — just ask.
In one of the follow-up emails, I learned the Superintendent was working on revising the district’s cell phone policy. The policy committee would soon contact teachers and “stakeholders” (I hate the faux-corporatespeak of education) for input.
I don’t know how much (if any) I played a role in kicking off this revision plan, but I felt uneasy about this revelation. If action were going to be taken, wouldn’t action just…be taken? Why bother changing a policy unless you want to avoid taking action?
The Wrap-Up
Shortly after, the superintendent's email about revising the cell phone policy hit all staff inboxes. It mentioned that by late February or March, “parents, students, and staff” (the literal wording, and I can’t believe the order is random) would be asked for input via a survey.
My conversations with the Board dried up at that point. In my final email to the chair, I expressed my frustration at the lack of action or progress on the issue and that, by handing the decision over to parents and students, who overwhelmingly outnumber teachers, the conclusion was already set: we’d see no meaningful change.
With my “swing for the fences” confidence that had gotten me this far, I lamented to the chair that our district used to proudly say we were data-driven and would only develop policies and practices backed by research, and we meant it. I said that I felt this was continuing the slow death of experts and expertise in favor of whatever won’t get angry phone calls.
I was tired, frustrated, and angry. And that was that. Things petered out sometime in late March.
The survey came out around then, too. Since it was a Survey Monkey survey, I did my duty and filled it out three times before calling it a day. I was going to fill it out a few dozen more times, but I was exhausted.
That was a Survey Monkey slam. Everyone knows how to game Survey Monkey surveys. Jesus. Survey Monkey? Really?
Epilogue, part 1
No one has contacted me from central office or the Board since that meeting and email exchange. In a newspaper article on April 20th, parents, students, and staff survey results were released at a policy committee meeting. Some highlights:
There were over 4,000 respondents: 2,179 parents, 509 students, and 1,398 staff. High school teachers were the largest group represented among the staff respondents. Also, just a note: my district has more than 52,000 students.
When asked if students should be allowed to bring cell phones to school, 95% of students said they should, 85% of parents said yes, and 70% of staff said they should.
Over 90% of parents and staff said schools should have rules limiting cell phone use (we do, but they’re selectively enforced from classroom to classroom, school to school, day to day). About 60% of students said there should be rules governing cell phone use in schools.
25% of students said they should be allowed to use cell phones during class. All groups said they should be allowed to use phones before and after school, with under 10% of parents and staff saying students should be allowed to use phones during class.
Less than half, 48% of staff said students should have to turn their phones in if caught with them during a “restricted time.” 48% of students said they should be allowed to put them in their backpacks or locker if caught.
Yondr pouches were vaguely mentioned at the meeting, and the cost was, of course, referenced as being very substantial. I also heard that “a teacher” who felt strongly about cell phones and had done a lot of research was obliquely referenced.
Epilogue, part 2
I should mention that in the week before this article appeared, a teacher in my district was assaulted by a student. You’ve probably seen the video. I’m not interested in talking about that; it’s pretty horrible. The student struck the teacher and showboated to get the validation they were seeking, all while another student in the class filmed it. The video also shows that no student got up to assist the teacher or stop the assault, and you can hear other students laughing during the assault.
Along with a healthy record of getting into trouble, the video was used as evidence, resulting in the student being charged as an adult.
In a piece for the paper (four days before the report on the Board’s policy committee), the newspaper’s curmudgeonly opinion writer (it’s paywalled, so do your hacker thing) praised phones for “the citizen-watchdog role they can play.” The writer said that, without the video, the assault would most likely never have raised the community’s ire, and perhaps the student would not have faced charges.
The piece said North Carolina had 1,400 assaults on school personnel in 2022-23, claiming that none of them reached the outrage level of this, thanks to the viral nature of the video. Making the issue messier, a message from the school’s principal was quoted—it was district boilerplate for all incidents like this—reminding all students that there are consequences for sharing or circulating inappropriate videos.
Of course, it was clear to the opinion writer that without the video, the district would have hidden the whole thing from public view under a “mountain of privacy laws.” The community would never have known about it, and there would never have been this swell of support for teachers. This happened on April 15th, 2024, so the swell of support for teachers had fully evaporated by the 22nd at the latest.
The message, though not stated explicitly, was clear: without the phone (and the free access the student had during class), there would be no video; without the video, there would be no public response; without the public response, the DA would not have responded, promising “swift and mighty” justice; without the DA promising action, there wouldn’t have been adult charges.
Yeah. That level of airtight reasoning has not been used since the reverse slippery slope of “For Want of a Nail.”
But since we’re making up lines of reasoning here, I’ll also put out the idea that if phones weren’t freely accessible, the student wouldn’t have thought that his assault and showboating would go viral or be widely circulated for the social reputation points, and he wouldn’t have done it in the first place.
Likely? I’ll give it a solid 50/50 against the fictional line of reasoning from the opinion piece.
I did not have a “phone video showing assault on teacher” on my phone-free school bingo card. I’m not saying the opinion writer is wrong, but now that phones (and unfettered access) are stitched tighter to student accountability and teacher safety, they will be hard to pull apart again. It also awakens the idea that parents can catch teachers “indoctrinating” students because students can record them on their phones.
It’s all adding mud to the water. I don’t want to be asked, “If you get assaulted by a student, don’t you want a student to be able to film it for evidence later?” in a meeting, but now it’s something I need to prepare for, I guess.
Where Are We Now?
Throughout the remainder of the year, I would occasionally get asked what was going on with the Yondr bags since my colleagues never heard anything about them yay or nay, either. I sigh and then, with resignation, try to tell a version of the past year that makes sense and certainly isn’t as long as this. Thanks to the power of the collective forgetting inherent in organizations, I’m confident that no one will ask me about this when school picks up next year.
District-wise, I don’t know what’s going on. I saw a version of the new cell phone policy with a request for feedback, and honestly, once again, I felt like I was being trolled. I couldn’t tell the difference between it and what we had. It reminded me of Einstein’s quote: “We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking we used when we created them.”
From what I understand, we’re back to letting schools (read, classroom-by-classroom, teacher-by-teacher) set the rules. However, the district says students can “only” access phones during class changes or lunch. So, schools don’t feel like prisons, I guess?
Whew for that.
Look—maybe the policy change is the long con. Maybe it’s designed to be a policy loss leader, something the Important People already know will fail. Then, in abusive-parent style, they can come in with the “You broke the rules. I didn’t want to have to do this, but look at what you’re making me do” angle, and then boom! Yondr pouches or phone lockers are everywhere!
Yeah, maybe. And I truly apologize to the district if I just revealed some super-secret plan that will pay off two years from now, but come on—on the remote chance that is what’s going on, our kids are suffering now.
For my classroom this year, I had a rack where students parked their phones, but as my numbers eroded, I had to change from a voluntary surrender to numbering the slots and checking to see who had turned theirs in. Despite that, and knowing that I have a tenuous authority even to ask students to do so, I still have about 10-15% of students each period who don’t put their phones up front.
And my students like me. I couldn't only imagine the turn-in rate for my colleagues the students loathe.
I’m not full of despair, though. I learned a lot in the past year. I got a full tour of the sausage factory that is my school district, and honestly, I’m not horrified by what goes into making the sausage; I’m just amazed any sausage gets made in the first place.
Whenever I run into the Superintendent again, we’ll chat and maybe mention the phone stuff, but we’ll be fine. I have no ill will toward her at all.
However, there are other people in this that I still feel kinda…
What Did We Learn?
If you’re going to try to make your school phone free, for the love of God, don’t make the same mistakes I did. Here’s what I would recommend:
If it’s a decision that’s coming top-down, rejoice! Back it with your belly full of fire. Otherwise…
Get help and make a plan. Find an organization that works to help schools go phone-free—see if they can tell you what has worked (though I fear many of them are saying it needs to happen and haven’t facilitated the transition in many if any, public schools).
A million moving pieces need to move the right way to make this change, and this is within a system with a billion other moving pieces.Do your research and boil it down. Treat it like the content you’re teaching. How do you explain what you’ve found in an engaging way that will be taken seriously and remembered?
Don’t expect research or data alone to do the heavy lifting. If you bring data to a belief fight, you will lose (are you new here?) You need to spin and control the narrative because the resistance will be fierce and, more than likely, personal. But you know that, you socialist, groomer indoctrination agent.
It’s going to take time. A school district is like an aircraft carrier - it can’t change direction quickly. I feel mine is stuck on a reef and has to come unstuck, get the engines fired back up again, get pointed towards open water, and then change direction, but your experience may be different.
Get parents involved from the start. Don’t think you can do this yourself, even if you’re carrying a mountain of data and having meetings with all the Important People. Get. Parents. Involved. They matter and have a voice. You’re just a teacher.
This will exhaust you. Get support from your colleagues early. Don’t keep things a secret. You need someone to lean on when things go south, and they will. Use them as research buddies and bullshit detectors. You may not be as right as you think about everything.
Expect pushback from everyone. To this day, I still can’t understand some of the resistance I met, but I do know one thing — people in leadership positions in education become entrenched in the system, and you’re saying the system is wrong. Moreover, you are (pretty clearly) saying the system’s policies harm kids. Or you’re just adding more work to their plate or increasing the chance they have to deal with an angry parent(s).
No administrator or central office warmbody sits in their chair all day thinking, “Boy, I hope someone comes into my office today and points out how my thinking is wrong and the policies I’m enforcing are damaging to kids.” The closer their identity is tied to what they do, the more serious the threat your suggestion represents.Parental resistance is going to happen, I guess? I thought I would write a lot about how to handle parents as opposed to the idea, but one year later, I haven’t even gotten to that point. In my mind, convincing students’ parents would be the monster challenge. I imagine it will be someday unless this is taken on by a leader who rams it through, ignoring the pushback.
But that’s the wrong way to do it. Parents, like me, like you, like everyone, want to be heard. A phone-free school is a large change involving their kids, and while there may be all kinds of bluster and bad words directed at you, fear is at the core of the resistance. And that’s okay. Listen to them. Hear them. Talk to them. Empathize. Find common ground. You both want what’s right for their kids. There’s your starting point.You will not make many friends. Many parents, kids, and community members will not like you because of this. Even teachers who support you may play things safe and not mention their support out loud or help shoulder the load. But you weren’t in this to be liked, were you? If you’re looking to be Teacher of the Year at your school, this Substack will have nothing that will help you, ever.
When you feel like giving up, remember: If not me, who? If not now, when?
Swing for those fences, or, as the poster in my room tells my kids, every day:
Phew.
As I write this, it's early summer. While things look somewhat settled—in a not-great way for my district—writing this has rewoken my mindset that nothing is impossible. “One in a million” isn’t zero.
I’ve got some community meetings with parents to set up this summer and into the fall. I’m not going to stop pushing for my school to go phone-free. It’s not fair to the kids if I do. If we do.
Thanks for reading. I’ll be back in a bit, and I promise I won’t talk about phones.
For a while.
And the code phrase, if you’ve read all the way through, is Project Elrond. The first round’s on me.
See you soon.
Man, I hope I don’t get fired for this.