Suburban Bus Stop

Take a look at this picture. What do you see?

Three kids, all within a few feet of each other—but completely disconnected. What you don’t see are two more kids just outside the frame, also standing apart, also on their phones. Five teenagers, same neighborhood, likely known each other for years. And yet—no conversation, no connection. Just screens.

This is a bus stop in an affluent suburb in Texas. I pass it every morning after putting my kindergarten son on his bus. And nearly every day, I witness the same scene—five kids, physically close but socially miles apart.

When I was a kid, these would’ve been “neighborhood friends.” Today, they’re just people who happen to live near each other. This isn’t a one-off. It’s a pattern. And it reflects a broader challenge we face as parents: how do we raise children to be socially and emotionally capable in a world dominated by devices?

For our family, we’ve made a conscious choice. Since our son was a baby, we’ve prioritized engagement—talking, drawing, reading, storytelling. We play games that require communication, like Uno or “How Well Do You Know Your Family?”

We also treat screen time with purpose. He doesn’t have a phone. His iPad use is limited, logged, and discussed. We talk about what he’s going to do before he starts, and we reflect on how he handles stopping when time’s up. Behavior matters—he earns or loses screen time based on how he manages it, not just whether he follows the rules.

There are no devices at dinner. The iPad is just for music in the kitchen. And when we traveled to Costa Rica recently, we left the iPad at home. Guess what? It wasn’t missed.

We’re not anti-tech. Our son will need to be tech-savvy. But we refuse to let devices become a substitute for real connection. This isn’t easy. It means awkward conversations with other parents. It means saying no when others say yes. But we believe it’s worth it.

Because I don’t want my son to grow up surrounded by people he doesn’t know how to talk to.