When people hear that my three kids don’t have smartphones, tablets or video games, they can’t help asking, “What do they do all day?” It seems we have forgotten a time before these handheld devices became children’s primary source of entertainment. The notion of a bunch of kids playing screen-free now sounds as outdated as the dodo bird, and yet, these rare creatures do exist. My own brood is living proof.
I’d like to describe a typical school day in my family’s life to give readers a sense of how to get by without relying on screens. As you’ll see, there is so much going on that it is hard even to imagine where my kids would fit in time on devices, if it were something we allowed.
My kids, who are 9, 12 and 15, wake up around 6:30. They get dressed, have breakfast, pack their lunches and do their morning chores – unload the dishwasher, tidy the kitchen, empty the recycling and kitchen compost, take out garbage, hang up any laundry. Each of them does a music practice for 30 to 60 minutes, depending on age. If there’s time to spare, they may finish homework, read a book, play with the hamster or play outside.
Around 8:30, they leave the house and walk or bike to their schools, either together or with friends. They love this independence, and so do I. My youngest insisted on walking alone from Grade 2 onward, and he frequently tells me how much he loves it: “There’s so much to see!” Morning chaos over, I escape to my office to make the most of my fleeting hours of solitude.
They’re back at 3:30. Sometimes they have after-school sports or music lessons, but usually they pile into the house, a mass of backpacks, shoes, jackets and endless permission forms, occasionally with friends in tow. They are always hungry. I think of this as the “in-between” time, the hours I find hardest as a parent. They are wound up from school, a bit tired and bored, and dinner seems a long way off. This would be the easiest time to say yes to screens if we had them.
At this hour, I resist the urge to direct their activities because I’ve learned that leaving them alone is the best strategy. Inevitably, they find things to do, settling into a calmer, quieter state. They spread out around the house and yard, tucking into quiet bedrooms to finish homework, lying on the couch to read Calvin and Hobbes, drawing dragons in a sketchbook, or jumping and lying on the trampoline.
Sometimes they play basketball in the driveway or practise balancing on the slackline. They swing in the hammock on our porch, build with Lego, challenge each other to a game of crokinole or chess, or visit the neighbour’s toddler if they hear him playing outside. They wrestle on the living-room floor. They trained a chipmunk to eat out of their hands this summer, and that creature occupied a great deal of their time and attention.
Around 4:30, I head to the gym. If there are additional chores that need to be done, I write them on the kitchen chalkboard. These might be mowing the lawn, vacuuming, folding laundry, setting the table or making a salad to go with dinner. The kids walk the neighbour’s dog for $5 every day, and sometimes I tack additional errands onto this walk, like picking up the mail, getting library books or buying an ingredient at the corner store.
By 6:30 p.m., we’re ready for dinner. We sit down together as a family and talk about our days. I find it helpful to play games like “bud, thorn, rose,” where each person describes something they’re looking forward to, something that was challenging, and something that was great. The kids help clean up after the meal.
There is surprisingly little time between the end of dinner and the start of bedtime, and it’s usually filled with more conversation, reading, homework or outdoor play. If an older child needs to communicate with friends, they can borrow my phone or use the family desktop computer to respond to e-mails or group chats using iMessage.
My kids complain that they go to bed far earlier than their peers, but I don’t think that is a bad thing. I read aloud to the youngest one for 20 minutes, then he’s tucked in by 8 p.m. His older siblings aren’t far behind. Two of them share a room, and I can hear them talking quietly long after I’ve tucked them in, digesting the day’s adventures together.
I think it’s a very nice way to grow up. I hope they look back on it fondly someday.
Katherine Johnson Martinko is a Canadian writer and the author of the 2023 book Childhood Unplugged: Practical Advice to Get Kids Off Screens and Find Balance. She writes about digital minimalism, parenting and technology in her e-mail newsletter, The Analog Family.