Phones Don’t Belong in Backpacks: How Schools Can Impact Culture
Hands-on, minds-on: exploring, creating, discovering together - Jill Anderson’s third grade class in Westchester, NY
About the author: Jill Anderson is a public school teacher and mother of two in Westchester County, NY. She has taught for nearly 20 years and is the founder of Mindful Tech Lessons.
We fought to get smartphones out of schools. New York became the largest state by population to ban them. This is a huge win, and other states are watching closely. But now comes the harder part: making sure schools enforce the policy consistently, without loopholes, and in a way that actually changes the culture.
Last school year, I didn’t even make it through the first hour with my new students before the policy I’d been fighting for all year proved itself necessary.
It’s the first day of school. I’m excited, not as jittery as in my early years, but with just enough nerves to bring that familiar back-to-school adrenaline rush. New faces, fresh smiles, crisp supplies, polished floors, spotless desks. It will not stay this way for long, but it is the perfect way to start.
We have covered the essentials. Now it is time for one of the most magical parts of the day: read-aloud time. And not just any read-aloud, the first one from a new teacher on the first day of school.
My new third grade audience is gathered on the rug, ready to hear an actual book read by an actual human being. Not a YouTube video. Not a recording interrupted by ads. A real story, read in real time by someone in the room. Imagine that.
We are in the middle of a magical moment, when… ring.
Twenty-two heads turn toward the sound. It is coming from a cubby in the back of the room. A brand-new backpack. A smartphone.
One of my students jumps up, embarrassed, and rushes to turn it off. “Sorry,” she says, “I forgot to turn off my alarm.” Her alarm clock is her smartphone. She is seven years old.
I remind her gently that devices are not allowed in school and it is best to leave them at home. She nodded and it never happened again with her phone.
Still, my heart aches over a morning meeting the year before, when we were sharing family memories. A boy told the class, “My brother totally stopped playing with me. He got a smartphone for his birthday, and now after school, instead of playing basketball, he’s inside on his phone.”
“That happened to me too,” a girl chimed in. “My sister and I played all the time until she got her smartphone. Now she’s always in her room.” The whole class nodded in agreement, the kind of empathetic understanding you wish did not exist in childhood.
“I don’t have to worry about that,” another boy added. “I’m an only child!” The class laughed, and the heaviness lifted. We ended up talking honestly about how phones were stealing siblings and friends, and brainstorming ways to bring it up at home.
“My brother totally stopped playing with me. He got a smartphone for his birthday, and now after school, instead of playing basketball, he’s inside on his phone.”
In nearly 20 years of teaching, I have seen the change. When I wrote my 2005 master’s thesis on how children’s preferred activities were shifting from outdoor play to video games, I never imagined how quickly that shift would accelerate.
When I first started teaching, children would look up at me with bright eyes and say they wanted to be veterinarians because they loved animals, teachers because they loved helping kids, or athletes because they loved playing sports. Today, the most common answer I hear is, “I want to be a YouTuber” or “an influencer” and they no longer tell me why. When did our children stop dreaming for themselves and start living for strangers?
So yes, I celebrated when New York passed its new bell-to-bell cell phone ban. It was a victory for kids’ focus, learning, and well-being. But if school districts leave loopholes, like letting students walk the halls with their phones or use them at lunch, the potential progress will fail. If teachers grant "academic purpose" exceptions for a smartphone instead of utilizing an actual calculator or enforce the rules inconsistently, students will not gain the research-based benefits. They'll learn that the rules depend on the staff member, and they’ll spend each class waiting for a chance to check their phones.
“When did our children stop dreaming for themselves and start living for strangers?”
School districts need to recognize that this is about more than preventing distractions. Done right, this policy can help change the culture, showing children and families that life, learning, and relationships don't have to revolve around a device. Schools can model what a healthy childhood looks like and send a clear, consistent message: your child does not need a smartphone to succeed here.
There are plenty of alternatives from basic devices without internet access, addictive apps, or social media. Families can use a home phone, flip phones, or even smartwatches like Gizmo or Bark. Limited-access phones from companies like Pinwheel, Gabb, or Lightphone are also great options. Schools should educate their communities and even hold device fairs to teach families about these alternatives. Administrators must stand strong and proudly reinforce why these policies are passing and will continue to pass.
When I was in high school, there was a grassy patch next to the parking lot we called “the smoking section.” Everyone assumed it would always be there. Then our school got rid of it and, in doing so, changed the norm. Phones can follow the same path, but only if the ban is enforced as intended, without carve-outs that weaken its impact.
Bell-to-bell must mean bell-to-bell, in all classrooms and across the entire campus. This is a chance for schools to lead, not just inside classrooms, but in the broader community. We must not squander it. We must make sure no child loses a sibling or friend to a screen because we have normalized handing kids devices. No more first days of school where a teacher is interrupted by a phone ringing, and no more children dreaming of being viewed on a screen instead of living their own lives.