This Side Up

Freed from the ‘screen’

By John Howell
Posted 3/8/16

I’ve found the answer to “screens.” It’s eggs.

“Screens?” Well, if you happened to catch it on NPR Saturday, you know that “screens” are what those who are studying the impact of …

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This Side Up

Freed from the ‘screen’

Posted

I’ve found the answer to “screens.” It’s eggs.

“Screens?” Well, if you happened to catch it on NPR Saturday, you know that “screens” are what those who are studying the impact of new technology on children are calling smartphones, tablets and that old fogey in the lexicon of devices, television. The discussion centered on whether children are reading as much as they once did and the effect of video games, texting, social media and television has on their ability to learn.

The discussion piqued my interest because the night before my twin granddaughters spent the evening with us and in the span of four hours they turned on their iPads only once, and that was to research whether the needlepoint palm tree on the couch pillow was a banana or a coconut palm. That set off a debate.

“Bananas don’t grow on palm trees,” I insisted. “They grow on trees.”

Sydney wasn’t sure. She and her sister Alex got their iPads out of their knapsacks and started checking.

The radio program didn’t touch on this feature of our new technology. Rather, the focus was on how we have been swept into an environment where we expect to be constantly no farther away than a few clicks from our friends or some form of entertainment, whether a video game, music or movie. The psychologist being interviewed concluded that kids aren’t reading any less, but they are perpetually stimulated and really don’t know how to deal with boredom. He thought that is a bad thing, as children aren’t being challenged to be inventive or learn that life isn’t going to be perpetually entertaining.

He might have thought differently had he been with us Friday night. And instead of talking about screens, he might have brought up eggs.

Now nine years old, I have heard both of my granddaughters announce at different times, “I’m bored,” like this is some form of ailment that we should be concerned about and remedy with the swish of a wand or a potion. The expectation clearly is that we’re to fix this, although our suggestions – like, “Why don’t you go out and use the swing?” or “Do you want to play a game of foosball?” – are greeted like we’ve recommended a form of medieval torture. It’s about this time that they resort to video games and they’re engaged in a different world. We’ve lost them.

Carol was prepared not to let that happen Friday night. She was armed with pencils, paper and a dozen hardboiled eggs – the tools to confront boredom.

But really, there was nothing to fear. The girls were excited about being with us and understandably intrigued with what Carol had planned. It was almost as if they couldn’t wait for their parents to leave. Carol had us sit around the living room coffee table. She handed out sheets of paper and pencils. We were to draw an egg shape.

We all followed instructions. She then explained some basics about drawing faces and had us lightly sketch in a line at the halfway point on the egg.

“This is where you want to draw the eyes.” Halfway down from the eyes is where she had us draw the end of the nose. She then showed us how to properly position ears and a mouth.

The twins jumped right in, and in short order were asking for additional sheets to draw more faces that soon degenerated into pumpkin-like Halloween representations with each face more absurd than the previous one.

Carol brought it back to reality. As a college student she studied portraiture. She asked Alex to hold a pose and started drawing. The mood shifted from the ridiculous to the serious. Sydney stood behind Carol to watch. Alex wanted to follow the progress and Carol held up the sketch to show her.

“That’s getting it,” Carol announced, shading around the nose.

Sydney was next. Carol worked at the sketch, but getting Sydney’s likeness didn’t come as readily.

“OK,” she announced, “we’re ready for the eggs.

Ollie loves eggs, so as soon as he smelled them he moved in and watched our every move, his tail wagging. Carol produced magic markers, and we all started drawing faces on the eggs. At first there was one face to an egg, but then after drawing a dozen egg faces we went on to put three and even four faces on an egg.

Sydney and Alex started naming the eggs. There was Buck-Tooth, Hilda and Larry, to name a few. Next they positioned them in an egg carton using sticky notes on the lid to identify each egg by name.

I glanced at the clock. It was 9 p.m. Carol spotted me. She gave me a look and I knew she was wondering how much longer this could go on – and for that matter, how much longer it would be before Ted and Erica returned.

I begged off, going to check messages on the computer upstairs. Carol reached for her Chromebook to catch up on her email. We’d succumbed to our screens, but not the twins.

Their iPads were no match for egg faces.

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