Cell phone rant (10-26 column)

On Monday, I had the privilage of attending the Abbotsford Middle and High School music department concert. Being a former band geek, I enjoyed the students’ performances immensely. I don’t think a lot of people appreciate the work that goes into preparing for one of these concerts. Seeing the kids all dressed up is a nice change from when I usually see them on my high school visits. That’s not to say they dress like slobs the rest of the time, but they really shine when they dress for a concert.

Well, all except one particular student I noticed in the very first group. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her clothes; she was appropriately dressed in the black and white attire required for the occasion. What annoyed me was the silver cell phone clipped to her back pocket.

That set off column brain storm so intense that I almost pulled my notepad from the camera bag and began writing this column right then and there. First off, I hoped she had it on silent or shut off. Nothing would have been more embarrassing for her, or her fellow choirmates, than a jingle during a dramatic pause of a number that had been rehearsed to perfection.
Then I wondered why, as a middle schooler, she felt the need to carry a cell phone at all. She was probably around 13, and when I was that age, the average person didn’t carry one at all, let alone into a concert.

I understand why some people need them and how they are useful. In my job, it is very advantageous to have one. I have a home phone, but it rarely gets used since I’m not home enough to answer it. Since I’m out and about quite a bit, it’s useful for Todd to get ahold of me when needed, or daycare to reach me if Jacob needs anything.

But why does a 13-year old who cannot legally drive a car or even hold a job need a cell phone? I would bet the child is not paying for it; mommy and daddy are footing the bill. It’s a strange paradox. Parents are spending all this time and money trying to see what their kids are doing on the Internet. Companies even sell software so parents can spy on their own kids and read private e-mail and see what sites they visit. But then parents give their kids a cell phone so they can talk to anyone, about anything, at anytime they want. But, they may argue, I see the bill so I know who my kid is talking to. Maybe, maybe not. On my cell bill, the incoming numbers are not listed, just the ones I dial.

All these thoughts inevitably led to what I would do as a parent to a teenager. When Jacob gets to middle school, he will not have a cell phone. When he gets his driver’s license, he may have a prepaid phone, but only if he pays for it. When he’s 18 and old enough to enter into a contract, he can decide for himself if he needs one. Then I get to thinking that I could write a whole column about the rules I would have as a teenager, but the more I thought about it, I realized that would be pointless. When I was a baby, no one had a computer in their house, let alone a cell phone in their back pocket.

So I guess as this point, telling Jacob he cannot have a cell phone in 15 years is about as useful as banning eight-tracks from the house.