In a quiet classroom in Perth, a group of teenagers held up a mirror to my digital habits, and the reflection was unsettling. As a journalist, my phone is my lifeline to news, sources, and deadlines. But during a visit to a local school, I was forced to confront a truth I'd been avoiding: I wasn't just using my device; I was addicted to it.
The Classroom Intervention
The moment of clarity came not from a self-help book or an app, but from a simple, powerful exercise with students. We were discussing media consumption when the conversation turned to our own screen time. I confidently declared I had my usage under control. The teens, however, were sceptical. They challenged me to a test: place my phone face down on the desk and not touch it for thirty minutes while we talked.
What unfolded was a masterclass in self-awareness. The urge to check for notifications was a physical itch. My mind concocted a dozen reasons why I needed to look at it—a breaking news alert, a message from my editor, the time. I fidgeted. My concentration fractured. The students watched with knowing smiles. I had failed my own test, spectacularly, in front of the very generation often accused of being the screen-obsessed ones.
The Sobering Statistics and Social Cost
This personal experiment led me to dig into the data, and the figures for Australia are alarming. Research consistently shows that excessive smartphone use is linked to increased anxiety, reduced attention spans, and disrupted sleep patterns, particularly among young people. Yet, here I was, an adult supposedly modelling healthy behaviour, completely dependent on a small rectangle of glass and metal.
The social cost became painfully clear. How many real-world moments had I missed while scrolling? How many conversations with my own family were interrupted by a ‘quick’ check of my email? The students spoke of feeling ignored by parents who were physically present but digitally absent. It was a cycle I recognised in myself.
Reclaiming Focus: Steps Forward
The lesson from those Perth teens was a gift. It spurred me to make tangible changes, moving from awareness to action. I started with small, manageable rules designed to break the compulsive cycle.
- No-Phone Zones: The bedroom is now a device-free space, leading to noticeably better sleep.
- Scheduled Scrolling: I allot specific, limited times for checking social media, rather than letting it bleed into my entire day.
- The Physical Alarm Clock: Banishing the phone from morning routines removed the temptation to start the day in a reactive digital loop.
The most significant change, however, has been mental. I now view my phone more as a tool to be used intentionally, not a default source of entertainment or a nervous tic. The constant background hum of digital anxiety has quieted.
My experience is not unique, but it is a vital reminder. In our hyper-connected world, the skill of disconnecting is becoming one of the most valuable and radical acts of self-care. We often lecture young people about their screen time, but the challenge is universal. Sometimes, the most profound wisdom comes from unexpected teachers. For me, it was a group of perceptive Perth teenagers who had the courage to call out an adult on her hypocrisy and set her on a path to a more present, focused life.
