In August 2019, I published my reflections on a remarkable scene I had just witnessed at Camp Morasha. Campers arrived for the summer tethered to their phones, eyes fixed on their screens as they prepared to step off the bus. But moments later, as they handed them in, the change was not gradual, not subtle — it was instant and it was palpable. Witin minutes, shoulders dropped, eyes lifted, and conversations began. That original article can be read here:
https://larryrothwachs.com/2019/08/20/surviving-and-thriving-without-screens/

This wasn’t a staged experiment — it was a real moment we witness at camp every summer. On opening day, buses pull in carrying hundreds of campers, many of whom have spent the entire ride with their eyes glued to their phones. These devices are constant companions throughout the year — in bed, at the table, on the way to school, between classes, on the sidelines. And then, before a single bag is unpacked, the phones are gone.

A 15-year-old who spent the bus ride frantically texting suddenly notices the lake. Within an hour, she is teaching younger campers to skip stones. By evening, she is leading a spontaneous sing-along on the porch, something that would have been impossible with a phone buzzing every thirty seconds.

A staff member recently shared that a group of teenage boys spent an entire evening in deep conversation about God and free will, the kind of meandering discussion that simply does not happen when a screen is within arm’s reach, ready to interrupt or offer an easy escape.

The Laboratory Results

Camp may not mirror everyday life but it is the perfect laboratory for seeing how screens shape young minds. Among our nearly 1,000 campers are kids from every background, some whose screen use is closely monitored and others with virtually no limits. Our experience is not unique. Talk to camp directors and staff across the country and you will hear the same thing: take away the devices and kids do not just survive, they come alive.

Not surprisingly, these observations align perfectly with new research published in JAMA Psychiatry this summer. Researchers followed 4,200 children over four years and found that “addictive patterns of use, where devices interfere with sleep, school, and real-world relationships, most strongly correlate with poor mental health outcomes, including suicidal ideation and self-harm.” Full article:
https://mindsitenews.org/2025/07/21/avoid-giving-smartphones-to-children-research-says/

We have known this for years. Each summer we watch fractured attention, disconnection, and exhaustion fade almost as soon as the phone is gone.

When I first wrote about this in 2019, smartphone addiction was already a growing concern. Today it is pervasive. The average age for first-time smartphone ownership has dropped to 10.3 years and social media algorithms are even more aggressive in capturing attention. For many kids, uninterrupted conversation or sustained focus is almost unheard of during the school year.

The contrast at camp is now even sharper, like stepping from a windowless room into full sunlight.

The Path Forward: Collective Action

We can no longer treat this as a private decision for each family. The pressures are as much social as they are personal. A child whose parents limit phone use will almost certainly feel isolated if every peer is glued to a screen. Navigating social differences is part of growing up, but this may be a burden we should not expect our children to carry.

Real change requires coordinated community action, and we are starting to see it work. This fall, five Bergen County yeshiva high schools, Frisch, TABC, Ma’ayanot, Heichal HaTorah, and MTA, announced joint phone-free policies for 2025–26. By acting together, they eliminated the social stigma of being “the only school” with restrictions while prioritizing student attention and mental health. Read more about this exciting initiative here:
https://jewishlink.news/five-yeshiva-high-schools-announce-phone-free-policy/

Schools are one model, but they cannot do this alone. Shuls could make youth programming device-free. Sports leagues could require players to leave phones in a team basket during games and practices. Camps, youth groups, and community centers could host “no-phone nights” where kids know in advance that the only connections available will be face-to-face. Parent groups could form grade-level pacts to delay smartphone ownership until high school, and schools could create and enforce phone-free zones during instructional time. Youth programs could offer activities that give kids permission to disconnect. Concerns about emergencies, schoolwork, and social isolation are real but manageable. Schools and camps have handled urgent situations for decades without personal devices. The best students are those who can focus without digital interruption, and the deepest friendships often form when phones are absent.

We Already Have Our Answer

Every summer, the teenager who seemed “addicted” to her phone in June is enthusiastically leading night activities in July. Friend groups that spent the school year communicating in emojis are suddenly swapping stories late into the night. Kids who couldn’t sit through a movie without checking notifications are now engrossed in hours-long board games.

We know what happens when children are freed from their devices because we have seen it repeatedly. Our children are not just capable of thriving without constant digital stimulation; they crave it.

And here is the deeper truth: they are offering us adults a gift. They are reminding us that we, too, need breaks from the constant ping of notifications, the endless scroll, the fractured attention we have come to accept as normal. When we free them, we create space to free ourselves.

Your child already knows how to have deep conversations about meaning and purpose. They already know how to create spontaneous joy with their peers. These capacities do not need to be taught; they need to be unleashed from the constraints we have allowed to take hold.

Every unanswered notification, every dark screen during a conversation, every moment of real eye contact is a quiet act of defiance against a culture that profits from our divided attention.

The magic our children find at camp should not be a brief escape from real life. It should be real life. Our children should not have to wait for summer to be free from the constant pull of their devices, to discover that they can not only survive without them, but truly thrive.