4 minute read
Thoughts from the Editor
Thoughts From the Editor
Growing up in the 80s came with the benefit of empty land and old orchards, and a childhood that was built ripe for adventure. My friends and I, armed with our Haro BMX bikes and boundless imagination, were the kings of our neighborhood. Well, actually, the older junior high boys around the corner were the kings; we just made sure to stay out of their way.
Those days were filled with the thrill of dirt-clod wars, the tension of hide-and-seek in a walnut orchard where No Trespassing signs were prominently posted and the ingenuity of building forts from scraps of plywood left behind by housing construction crews. It was a time when every tree was a potential lookout post, every ditch a battleground, and every patch of dirt a blank slate for our grand plans.
As 11-year-olds, the world was vast and full of possibilities. We’d pedal furiously, our bikes kicking up dust as we raced each other through fields, our laughter echoing in the open air. The fortresses we constructed were composed of childhood ingenuity, pieced together with dreams and the thrill of getting away with something just a bit dangerous.
Now, looking back on my childhood and seeing what my kids and their friends play, I can’t help but feel saddened.
In Jonathan Haidt’s “The Anxious Generation,” he outlines how modern childhood is dominated by screens and a pervasive sense of anxiety. Haidt’s research paints a sobering picture: our children are spending more time indoors, glued to screens, and less time engaging in the kind of free play that fosters independence and resilience. The allure of the digital world, with its endless streams of information and entertainment, is robbing them of the critical life lessons that come from exploring the world on their own terms.
My friends and I didn’t have smartphones or tablets to occupy our time. We had the great outdoors and each other. We learned to navigate conflicts during wiffle ball tournaments. We had space and freedom to test our limits and to trust our instincts. Sneaking around walnut groves taught us the art and thrill of adventure. Dirt-clod wars were our first lessons in strategy, teamwork, and not using rocks because those can end a game early with a split lip. These experiences were more than just fun; they were foundational in shaping who we became.
Unfortunately, in today’s screen-based childhood, far too many kids are missing out on these formative experiences. The lessons learned from a scraped knee or a hastily constructed fort are irreplaceable. They teach resilience, creativity, and problem-solving in ways that a video game or social media never could. Moreover, appropriate danger—like climbing trees or riding bikes fast down a hill—helps children understand risk and develop a healthy sense of caution.
Haidt’s book underscores a critical point: by shielding children from every potential harm and allowing them to be immersed in a digital world, we are inadvertently depriving them of the very experiences that build character and confidence. The anxiety prevalent in today’s youth can be traced back to a lack of real-world interaction and the overprotective environments that prevent them from exploring and learning on their own.
Looking back, my childhood was a series of adventures that prepared me for many of life’s challenges. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the best thing we can do for our kids is to encourage them to put down the screens, hop on their bikes, and find their own walnut groves or empty lots to explore. The world is still full of wonders, waiting to be discovered by those willing to venture beyond their front doors.
