The summer before my freshman year of high school could be described more accurately as the “summer of my iPhone battle.”  My old flip phone had lost so many buttons that its only remaining function was pretty much turning itself on and off, and the end of my phone contract aligned perfectly with the release of the new iPhone 4.  Even though I promised to pay for it myself and came up with at least fifty arguments that I presented to my parents about why I should be able to get an iPhone, since my father works for Hewlett Packard, the chances of me actually getting my way were slim. Somehow though, at the end of the summer, I managed to convince my parents, and I soon became a devoted iPhone user.
Partially through sophomore year, I accidentally angered my parents and committed social suicide all at once: I lost my phone.  I was devastated to lose all of my contacts, pictures, and apps, and for the first few days after I lost it, I literally did not know what to do with my hands.  I was so used to being able to take out my phone and scroll through my Facebook newsfeed when I had even a second of spare time that I had lost the ability to be patient, and, even more importantly, the ability to sit still.  Suddenly there was nothing with which to “fake text” during awkward situations, and nothing on which to play Temple Run while waiting in a really long line.  While at first I was miserable being the only one of my friends without the ability to snap chat or play Draw Something or group text, I learned to appreciate the refreshing aspect of being phoneless.   Eventually, my parents got tired of never being able to access me and made me get a non-iPhone until my contract would allow me to get a new one.  However, even with a phone, the difference between the “temptations” my old iPhone caused verses the plain old texting ability of my new one was astounding.  I appreciated the lack of alluring apps to play when I was desperately procrastinating at 11 pm, and learned how to stand in a line and be patient instead of distracting myself in every way possible through apps.  When the time for me to get a new iPhone came, I seriously considered not buying one.
Today, I am more or less back to the way I was last year before I lost my phone.  I realized this with horror as I drove home from school a few days ago, parked, and then literally sat alone in my car scrolling through Facebook, and then Instagram, and then iFunny.  I wasted a solid ten minutes that I could have been using to talk to my family staring at my smart phone screen, and during junior year, every little bit of time counts.  The saddest part for me is that if I lost my phone again, despite my new awareness about smart phones, I would probably feel just as helpless without it as I did last time.
I’m not trying to say that I have anything against iPhones, because clearly, I don’t.  I just think that people should be aware of how much they use them during the day.  You’d be surprised how much more you appreciate the giant Menlo clock when you don’t have your phone in your pocket, or how much more important communication with your parents becomes when you can’t just call them to pick you up whenever you feel like it.  And all that constantly checking Facebook? Personally, I’d rather check it from a computer less often and have more notifications then know what is going on with all my friends every five minutes.  So here is my challenge to the Menlo community: try living without your phone for a day.  It doesn’t even have to be a day when you venture outside; you could avoid using it during one of your all-day Sunday homework sessions.  Figure how many other ways you have to contact your friends when a quick text message isn’t available.  Assess how much more productive you are without the temptation of playing one more round of that new, “it” game. I know it sounds cliché, bu t coming from someone who experienced this “phonelessness” for almost a month, it really works.  Hopefully, at the very least, you will at least see how dependent you are on your smart phone for constant entertainment, information, and distraction, and appreciate your constant reliance on it.