My daughter Jenny was eight when she first asked me for a phone.
I was a bit taken aback, but – thinking about it – I realised it probably seemed to her like everyone else had one.
At least half her class already owned a mobile, as did her parents, her older cousins, and even her grandads.
But two years on, and nearing the last term of year five at a small village school, she still doesn’t have a phone.
I don’t want her to until she’s at least 12 or 13 – for many reasons.
Jenny’s in a class of 20 and she’s one of two who don’t have their own phone. We’ve resisted getting her one, initially because we didn’t see the need.
When I got my first phone at 19, it was from the necessity of having a means of communication driving around country lanes as a new driver – in case anything happened.
Am I being old fashioned telling her there’s ‘no need’ for one, when she’s dropped off and collected from a school 200 metres from our house? She’s 10, what could she possibly need one for?
But as she’s grown older, she’s asking for her own phone more and more. Now, it’s almost a daily occurrence.
At first, the question was: ‘Can I get my own phone?’ Then it became: ‘Can I get my own phone, maybe I can use an old one of yours?’; followed by: ‘Everyone in my class has got one,’; becoming: ‘When I get my phone, can it be…’.
My husband and I have tentatively agreed that she can have a mobile when she goes to secondary school, with the idea that she might be getting there on a coach, rather than being dropped off.
But still, there’s no real need for her to have one, and if we do get her one, it’s unlikely to be a smartphone. I fear that she’d be sucked into it, fixated on gaming and the opinions of others.
As a younger child, being introduced to games and films on a household tablet aged five, we noticed Jenny’s behaviour and demeanour change.
She became increasingly obsessed with screen time, combative when we restricted time on it, and increasingly withdrawn.
I felt like I was losing the happy-go-lucky girl who would ask to go on bike rides every day. This was only compounded by the pandemic, too.
And with studies discovering that access to social media from a young age can alter children’s brains, and negatively impact their mental health, we decided to be more strict with screen time. It’s the reason why she and her younger sister Hazel, seven, don’t have their own devices.
While I know she thinks it’s unfair, we reiterate our reasoning to them both: we’re their parents, with our rules. Other parents have different rules.
When your children are small, the huge responsibility of feeding, clothing, comforting and keeping them safe, healthy and clean is at the forefront of your mind.
They get older, they grow up, they become more independent and suddenly you’re not needed quite so much when they can feed, dress and wash themselves.
This increase in their independence might lessen your practical care for them, but is replaced with the responsibility for their mental health – and that responsibility is huge.
Not too long ago, I received a letter from Jenny’s school, explaining to parents that they’d been made aware of a serious issue.
Outside of the classroom (mobiles aren’t permitted in school) a majority of a class had set up a WhatsApp group, in which they regularly messaged and group-video called.
One video call saw some name-calling and bullying that led to a child being dared to alter his appearance, egged on by others in the group. I heard from parents of children in the group that he shaved his head on that video call. It filled me with horror.
My impressionable, anxiety-prone, sometimes solitary, quietly-intelligent daughter Jenny is just the type of child who wouldn’t be able to cope with peer pressure and bullying.
In fact, she has already been on the receiving end of name calling, and didn’t cope well with it at all. These incidents, I’m pleased to say, were dealt with swiftly and seriously by the school.
The school letter added that social media isn’t recommended for children under 13, and I completely agree.
Still, Jenny’s argument that ‘everyone else has got a phone’ does sometimes make me question whether we’re doing the right thing.
I often ask myself if I’m being neglectful by not letting her have one. It’s hard enough for some children to feel like they ‘fit in’ with their peers, and I’d hate to be the cause of her being singled out.
But, ultimately, I think back to that video call and how her behaviour changed when she had a tablet and I’m reminded that I’m doing what’s best for her.
If, as a parent, you’re wondering whether you’re doing the right thing, whether you’re being fair, or if you’re making the best choices for your children and parenting in the ‘right way’, then you probably are.
But parenting properly isn’t easy, by any means. I still feel that pressure.
Can we hold off letting her have a phone for another two or three years? I hope so, because that’s what’s best for her – and for all children her age.
Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing jess.austin@metro.co.uk.
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