I Contact

God help me, but I cannot tell a lie.  An article by sports writer Steve Sipple (of Things I Know and Think I Know "fame,") actually got me thinking this morning.  In it, he credits Husker coach Connie Yori's pre-game reaping of her players' digital devices as one explanation for her team's late-season success.

As I witness and work with a generation of people more apt to look at their laps than each other, maybe it's a good time to start referring to eye contact as "I contact" instead.  Call me a dreamer, but maybe such a switch would help highlight what we lose when our devices become the go-to medium for personal communication.

Five or ten years ago, when I would catch a seated teen seriously focusing on his or her lap,  pity would come over me, as I assumed the culprit was a burgeoning body part or a new wave of shame.  Nowadays, I know better.  Such intensely-personal awakenings have been replaced by the electronic hum of a Droid or iPhone, although I suppose the "hum" part might prove personally problematic. . . .

At least in public schools, where some would say God hasn't stopped by in years, bowing one's teenaged head doesn't signal prayer so much as it does confirmation of which fast-food restaurant will offer up lunch today.

OMG.  When did discussing fat-laden carbs become more important than understanding AP-style rules?!

Such distractions are not new, though.

Twenty three years ago, the smartest thing I uttered during an intense and uncomfortable meeting with the newspaper editor and his dad was "You need to look at me when we are talking."  That challenge proved to be a great one for this young man, who required Kung-Fu concentration and commitment to fulfill my request.  The end result, though, was significant.  When he was forced to voice his concerns directly to me, we started to make real progress towards addressing those concerns.

Even at home, I've found the Yori Method to be effective.  Dipping grades and missing assignments in math class?  Try prohibiting access to personal devices during homework hours and I guarantee you'll see some impressive results.  After implementing such a plan this spring, an interesting thing has happened.  Allison has started going into school early to talk with--egad, perhaps even look at--her math teacher, and the synapses have again begun firing.  Oh, and her grade has climbed ever upward.

Phew.  I'd hate to think all this unplugged staring at each other was for naught.