Lesson Plan: The Effects of Smartphones

Today I am going to share with you a lesson I did with my 12th grade English class this week that was really successful. I love to post my lessons for free because I believe that when one teacher wins, we all win. It all resonates outward, and we shouldn’t have to pay for that, especially when we’re already underpaid. So here it goes, The Effects of Smartphones!

Some background: my school “used” Yondr pouches for the last two years and abandoned them this year. I put “used” in quotation marks because they were not used the way the pouches are intended, where students lock their phones in the pouches in the morning and get them unlocked at the end of the day. Instead, students broke their phones out immediately and just kept them hidden during class, at least in the first year. If I saw their phone, I wrote them up and gave them detention. I don’t think detention is a great consequence, to be clear, but it honestly worked and kids learned more because they were motivated to avoid detention, so whatever. Last year, we had no one to oversee detention, therefore there were no consequences, therefore pouches were entirely fake and kids did whatever they wanted, minus a few natural rule followers. It sucked.

When I found out at the end of last year that Yondr pouches were being eliminated, I begged the school’s administrative and climate teams to ensure that at least there would be a schoolwide policy around phone use in classrooms. We didn’t get that. But I maintain my policy that I’ve had every year for my own room—no phones during classtime, period. No I don’t care that you’re texting your mom back, no I don’t care that you’re just checking the time, that’s why I bought a clock. (Yes, my classroom did not come with a clock.)

So now I’m relying on one, the resurfacing of detention, which seems to be happening somewhat so far this year, and two, actually convincing kids to believe that they are better off not using their phones in class. That’s where the lesson comes in. Now that I’ve acted like the worst kind of food blogger and given you a million paragraphs before the actual recipe, I’ll give you the content.

I start with this slide:

I ask students to identify these men. Many students were in my AP Lang class last year where we spent a lot of time talking about Mark Zuckerberg, so they identify him immediately. Someone can always identify Elon Musk as well. Nobody knows the third man by his photo alone, but they figure out based on the first two that I’m presenting them with the CEO of Tiktok. I ask for guesses as to the net worths of these men. No guesses go above $5 billion. I ask the class, “Does anyone in here think that 1.5 billion is a low number?” They look at me like I’m certified nuts and shake their heads. I say, “I never thought I could think of 1.5 billion as a low number, but I’m about to make you feel like 1.5 billion is a low number.” Then I show them this slide:

(Disclaimer: my husband has an economics degree and he told me the number of $1.5 billion for Shou Zi Chew is kind of not comparable to Zuckerberg and Musk because he is in China, but he says it makes enough sense for the purposes of this lesson.)

Their eyes go wide. I say, “So you guys know, when you’re scrolling through your phones, you know you’re just making these rich guys richer, right?” Some kids just stare. Some kids shake their heads and say yes, they did know that. A few kids are very affected by this, especially the kids from my Lang class who last year watched Mark Zuckerberg defend himself against a parent who lost their child to suicide thanks to Zuckerberg’s apps. They look at their phones with disgust. Most say, “I don’t care. Those guys have nothing to do with me. How much money they have doesn’t affect me.” I say, “Sure, none of them are taking over the city of Philadelphia, displacing you from your homes so that they can have a multi-acre mansion here. But they are doing that elsewhere.” I show them pictures of Mark Zuckerberg’s estate in Kauai. I get a few more on board with what I’m saying, those who start to put themselves in the shoes of the Native Hawaiians. But some still shrug. “I can’t control how they spend their money,” they say. “Okay, true,” I say. “So let’s talk about how they definitely do affect you.”

That’s when they get their reading, an article that I have copied into a Google Doc for you.

Even the kids who were not at all affected by my Zuckerberg speech—and were nearly insulted that I suggested they should change their behavior because of these men—are somewhat moved by the article. They look up at me and say, “Wait, they’re trying to control me!” Ding ding ding! “Yes,” I say. “They’re motivated to keep you on your phone because that’s how they make all that money.” They look around the room with new eyes. “I think I’m on my phone in class too much.” It sounds fake, but I swear I heard them say it.

Then a student will say, “Well, this doesn’t apply to me. I can control myself. It’s not my fault if other people can’t.” Then I begin my final TED Talk. I tell them that an adminstrator recently told me he thinks it’s not disruptive to class if a student is quietly texting during class. They immediately say, “You told him you disagree.” I smile. They know me so well already. “Why did I tell him that?” I ask. They shrug. “I don’t know. It’s not disruptive if they’re being quiet. Maybe it’s disruptive to you because you think it’s rude, but it doesn’t affect anyone else.”

“I understand why you think that,” I say, “but let me hit you with some science.” Truthfully, I’m not a scientist, and if there are any scientific holes in my speech, I would love to know, but I’ll tell you what I told them:

“Thousands of years ago when we were cavemen, we needed a tribe to survive. How did we get a tribe? By making people like us. How did we make people like us? By being similar to them. So our brains fired off these fun little things called mirror neurons, and they stayed with us all these years later in all our evolution. So when I sit across from Makayla and I cross my legs, she’s more likely to cross her legs. I fold my arms, she’s more likely to fold her arms. I take out my phone, she’s more likely to take out her phone. Notice I didn’t say guaranteed to take out her phone. I just said more likely. And in 2024, we hate this idea. Because we want to believe that we are in total control of our own actions, that other people can’t affect us. But the irony is, it’s only once we accept that we don’t have total control that we get more control. Because now that I know that I’m more likely to pick up my phone if Makayla picks up hers, I can notice when I do it, and then I can make the choice to put mine down. If I don’t know about this phenomenon of my brain, I don’t have control.”

They’re nodding, but I don’t have all of them on board quite yet. “But it’s not my responsibility to keep other people off their phones,” someone says.

“No, it’s not. But what is my responsibility? What is my job?” I let them think on that for a few seconds. “Wouldn’t you say it’s my job to protect the learning environment so that everyone has the best chance at learning the most they possibly can?” None of them can deny this is true. So I continue, “Now you see why I have to have to rule that no one can take their phone out, no matter who you are and what amount of self-control you feel like you have. What you do has the potential to affect other people, and I have to fight for everyone’s learning. So even if you don’t like it, do you see why I have to do it?“

Dear readers, they do.

The number of phone write-ups since then has dropped dramatically.

If you are struggling with phone use in your classroom, I highly recommend you try this if it feels authentic to you! Leave comments below with any questions, and let me know how it went for you and your students.