Wheels On Down the Road

Tag: Mental Health Awareness

  • Why I Applaud Schools for Banning Smartphones (And Why You Should Too)

    Why I Applaud Schools for Banning Smartphones (And Why You Should Too)

    Kids are heading back to school, and I’m thrilled to see more schools taking a firm stand against smartphones. Honestly, it’s about time. Kids don’t need phones.

    They’re not the lifeline we pretend they are. They’re attention traps. They pull students into a digital black hole. Instead of being trapped, students should be focusing on math, making friends, or just being kids.

    And yes, I say this as an adult who knows how easy it is to lose hours to the scroll. If I can’t always resist the temptation, imagine what it’s like for a seventh-grader in the middle of algebra.

    The Research

    The research backs up what most of us already feel in our gut. Nearly three-quarters of school leaders say phones hurt students’ mental health, and a similar number say they damage attention spans. Teachers see it too—about one-third call cellphone distraction a major problem in classrooms. And the issue isn’t small. Studies show teens spend an average of 1.5 hours on their phones during the school day. That’s not “just a quick check.” That’s a full class period wasted every single day.

    And yet, kids are getting smartphones younger and younger. More than half of eight-year-olds already own a phone or tablet. By age eleven, most kids have one in their pocket. Eighty-four percent of teens now carry smartphones everywhere they go.

    Pair that with relentless notifications, hundreds a day, and it’s no wonder anxiety, stress, and fractured attention are running high. We’ve given them a tool designed to keep them hooked. Then, we wonder why they can’t stay focused in class.

    Here’s the kicker: bans work. When schools in the Netherlands restricted phones, 75 percent reported better concentration. Additionally, 59 percent saw kids interacting more. Nearly 30 percent even saw grades go up.

    U.S. schools experimenting with phone bans are noticing something similar…kids are actually talking to each other again.

    Cafeterias are noisier in the best way. Teachers report calmer classrooms. Some schools are even bringing back foosball tables. They are also reintroducing board games. Suddenly, lunchtime looks like 1998 instead of a TikTok set.

    Parental Push back

    Parents often push back with the same argument: What if I need to reach my child in an emergency? I get it. The idea of being cut off feels scary.

    But let’s be real…you grew up without a phone. Your parents grew up without a phone. If something happened, they called the school or they showed up. It worked.

    Civilization didn’t collapse. And it wouldn’t now. There are systems in place for emergencies, and banning phones during school hours doesn’t mean banning common sense.

    The bottom line? Smartphones aren’t helping kids succeed in school. They’re stealing focus, hurting mental health, and replacing real human connection with endless notifications.

    If I had kids, I wouldn’t give them a smartphone, tablet, or computer at all.

    It’s not to punish them. I’d want them to live in the real world and not inside a feed. I’d want them to have real, face-to-face conversations instead of hiding behind a screen.

    They don’t need to be exposed to all the junk floating around the internet. Honestly, they already get enough of that from streaming platforms… but that’s a whole other conversation.

    Technology should serve us, not swallow us whole.

    Schools banning phones isn’t overreach; it’s a reset. It’s a chance to give kids what they need most space to learn, think, and just be kids.

    Chime In

    What do you think? Should schools go all-in and block phones completely, or do you think kids should still have access during the day?

    Sources and Further Reading

    Resources for Parents

  • Cheers to Clarity: What Grief, Generational Patterns, and a Non-Alcoholic IPA Taught Me About Choice

    Cheers to Clarity: What Grief, Generational Patterns, and a Non-Alcoholic IPA Taught Me About Choice

    Author’s Note:
    This began as a casual Facebook post. It was just me, a can of non-alcoholic beer, and a quiet summer evening on the patio. But the more I sat with it, the more I realized this moment wasn’t casual at all. It was part of a larger story about grief, generational patterns, and learning to choose—really choose—what supports me best. Sometimes that looks like a cold drink. Sometimes it looks like not having one. And sometimes, it looks like sitting still with what hurts, and making a mindful choice anyway.

    A Quiet Evening, A Different Kind of Cold One

    It’s a quiet evening on the patio. The sun’s fading out slow and golden, and I’m sitting with a cold one in hand.

    But not that kind of cold one.

    This one’s a Free Wave Hazy IPA from Athletic Brewing Company. Non-alcoholic, but every bit as satisfying as the real deal. Bright. Citrusy. Complex. It hits all the right notes—just without the mental fog or emotional whiplash.

    These days, before I drink anything alcoholic, I pause. I check in with myself. And I ask a question that’s become surprisingly important:
    Why do I want this?
    Is it for the taste? To unwind? Or… am I trying to dull something I don’t want to feel?

    When Grief Shatters

    After Dempsey passed in the summer of 2022, something in me broke.

    Not just cracked—shattered.

    He wasn’t just a dog. He was my service dog. My companion. My lifeline. Dempsey was the one creature on this earth I could trust completely. I trusted him with my safety and with my disability. I relied on him with the quiet parts of me that don’t always have words.

    Grief wasn’t kind. It wasn’t poetic. It was heavy and raw and relentless. And in the middle of it, I found myself craving alcohol. It wasn’t to celebrate or relax, but to feel less.

    Less pain.
    Less loss.
    Less of that deep, marrow-level heartbreak that doesn’t let up just because the world keeps spinning.

    But I knew that craving. I knew its edges. And I knew where it could lead.

    Because I come from a family with a history of alcohol misuse. Even though the people I love found their way to sobriety, those patterns still echo. That kind of history doesn’t disappear. Instead, it lingers in the background. It shapes how you respond to stress, grief, and loss. Even if you never pick up a bottle, you still inherit the instincts.

    So when I felt that whisper—Just one drink. Just take the edge off—I recognized it. Not just as a moment of grief, but as part of a longer story. A story I want to write differently.

    Choosing Wisely: The Power of Options

    That’s where drinks like this come in. That’s why I sing the praises of Athletic Brewing like they’re saving lives. Sometimes, having a non-alcoholic option helps me stay sober in spirit. It is not just about alcohol content. It helps me stay grounded. Stay honest.

    And let’s be clear: I’m not anti-alcohol. I’ll still have a drink now and then. But the rule I’ve made for myself is simple—if there’s even a fraction of hesitation, even a 0.00001% chance that I’m reaching for it to numb instead of enjoy, I choose something else.

    That isn’t weakness. That’s wisdom. That’s clarity. That’s care.

    Even now, Surley is by my side. My mental health is better supported. There is more stability and joy woven into my days. Still, those urges whisper sometimes. That itch still sneaks in.
    And when it does, I don’t shame it. I meet it with honesty.
    I ask the question again. Why do I want this?
    And if I’m not sure, I choose the option that keeps me rooted.

    My Choices, My Rules

    You might think all this sounds excessive. Or overly cautious. Or dramatic.

    That’s okay.

    You’re not living my grief. You’re not carrying my history. You’re not holding my DNA or my memories or my triggers. I am.

    These are my choices. My rules. My safety nets. Built not just to keep me upright, but to keep me honest with myself.

    So tonight, I raise a glass—a cold one, sure, but one that supports the life I want. The healing I’ve worked for. The clarity I’ve chosen.

    Cheers. 🧡🍻
    To grief. To growth. To generational healing.

    If you’ve been affected by grief, loss, or struggles with alcohol, you’re not alone. Feel free to share your story or thoughts in the comments below. Let’s support each other with compassion and understanding.