This morning, I bought two kitchen timers, the kind that you can set for an hour and that tick loudly to mark each passing second. I bought them after listening to the CBC radio program Spark on Wednesday afternoon. I was driving through the most miserable weather (freezing rain) to pick up a child for piano, so I missed the name of the expert and the context, but the point of the interview came across clearly, like a message I needed to hear: video games are entertainment. They are designed to suck players in, to make players want to keep playing. That is their sole purpose.
Adults get sucked in to their digital worlds too: email for some, Facebook or Twitter or other social media for others.
Lecturing a kid about self-discipline around video games is not only ineffectual, it’s completely pointless, said the expert. You can’t tell a kid to have more self-discipline, when in fact, the kid is responding to the stimulus exactly like a normal human being.
Which is why I’ve got two new kitchen timers. Here is what the expert recommended: set a time limit, and enforce it by setting a timer. An old-fashioned ticking timer that reminds the child that time is passing. When the timer goes, re-set it for another 1-2 minutes, to let the child extract him or herself from the game/digital device. When that time is up, if the child hasn’t disconnected, there will be a penalty, say, 5 minutes less playing time tomorrow. If the child has shut off the game, the expert recommended a reward. I didn’t hear what kind of reward. (I wouldn’t really want to offer more playing time tomorrow.)
There are larger issues, here, of course. You have to be present to know and actually see when your children are disappearing into their devices. What are they doing in their bedrooms while I’m cooking supper or sitting here in my office? What about at friends’ houses? Will my eldest choose to go to hang out a more permissive friend’s house, if he isn’t getting the screen-time he so craves at home? I worry about that.
But I worry more about being too permissive myself, and not consistent in how I apply my values to this situation. Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick. That’s the sound of my children growing up more quickly than I can really comprehend. Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick. My own timer is going. (In fact, I know the method works because I use it all day long, to keep myself on task, and free from distraction.)
P.S. Our washing machine is broken. OUR WASHING MACHINE IS BROKEN! And won’t be fixed till the middle of next week at least. AND WON’T BE FIXED TILL NEXT WEEK! I weep.