There once was a time when the primary function of a teacher was to teach. Today however, most teachers wear a multitude of hats: educator, counsellor, social worker, nurse and surrogate parent, to name a few. During our training, many of us learn about Maslow’s hierarchy, which states that children cannot learn if their fundamental needs are not met. This stands to reason – few, if any of us, are likely to achieve our potential if we’re hungry, exhausted or unloved.
The stark truth is that more and more of these needs are now being catered to within the walls of our schools rather than our homes. Take some of the basic, physiological needs for instance: food, rest, toileting, clothing – needs you might expect to be met as a matter of course at home. Yet a growing number of children walk into school without having had breakfast, or struggling with fatigue. Some begin Reception still in nappies; others in Key Stage 2 can’t use a knife and fork, dress themselves independently or tie their shoelaces.
The second layer of Maslow’s pyramid relates to safety and security. Emotional literacy plays a crucial role in helping children to feel safe and secure, but so many children are unable to name and regulate their emotions. Some have to wait until they learn these skills in PSHE lessons, or with support from pastoral teams.
Consider online safety – social psychologist Jonathan Haidt believes we have overprotected children in the real world and underprotected them in their online world. He’s right, you know. Let’s be honest, most children only learn how to keep themselves safe online through school; too many parents will only broach this topic after their child’s first dodgy Roblox interaction or their first encounter with a wildly inappropriate TikTok trend.
The rise of screens and the decline of communication
Moving further up Maslow’s hierarchy, we have psychological needs relating to love, belongingness, self-esteem and cognition. One of the most important threads that connects these needs is communication and thought (many philosophers would say that thinking is an individualised form of interpersonal communication). I don’t believe it would be an exaggeration to say that a significant number of children do not get these needs met in full by their primary caregivers.
Our children are being born into and raised in a world that would make Maslow’s head spin. A world where screens have become the third parent; a world in which time and opportunity for high-quality, two-way communication are conspicuous by their absence from so many homes. Children’s exposure to language outside of school is becoming increasingly passive: so much of their verbal literacy is delivered by a screen. So we cannot therefore be surprised, that their emotional literacy is also inherently linked to digital media.
Where am I going with this, you may rightly ask? Please don’t misunderstand me: this is not intended to be the latest in a long line of rants about the evils of screen time and social media. I do in fact, firmly believe that the well-placed and thoughtful use of digital tools can be an invaluable support to children’s learning and development. Just as well really, seeing as I’m the Computing Lead at my school! Nor is this intended to be a scathing critique of modern parenting.
Far from it. Modern parenting is a relentless treadmill of plate-spinning: we are all juggling many pressures, from financial insecurity amidst the ever-rising cost of living, to the demanding schedules of two working parents. Most parents have precious little time or energy to invest in the sustained, high-quality interactions our children need and indeed deserve.
The world we live in has changed at breakneck speed. In my own lifetime I have seen the first iPhone go from being the very latest in cutting-edge technology to something that belongs in a museum. Yet despite the rapid pace of change, the school system and the curriculum continue to play catch up, much like the rotund rhino who struggles to keep up with the stampede in Jumanji (the original, that is).
Is it any wonder then, that we are struggling to adapt our education and parenting to meet the needs of children for whom this eye-watering pace of change is all they have ever known? Schools are bearing more and more of the brunt of responsibility to meet these psychological and emotional needs, and to plug the growing gap in children’s thinking and communication skills. And I fear we are going about it all wrong.
Attention, algorithms and a fear of boredom
Before communication comes thought. And before thought comes attention. Indeed, attention is the very foundation of learning. Without it, there’s no comprehension, no creativity, no connection. Yet we are living in an attention economy – a world designed to erode focus.
Social media platforms and apps turn over billions of pounds each year through keeping us hooked, and children are perhaps their most lucrative customers. By way of a worrying example, a study in 2020 estimated that TikTok allowed up to 1.4 million children under 13 to use their platform. It’s no coincidence therefore that we’re witnessing an ‘explosion’ in diagnoses of attention deficits.
If children cannot focus, they cannot think. If they cannot think, they cannot learn. I suspect Maslow would be horrified at how easily the digital age in which we live undermines the higher levels of his pyramid, but rarely do we stop to consider whether society itself is the problem.
Boredom is a dying art. We used to punish children by sending them to their room, to stew in their own thoughts until contrition set in. These days however, ‘go to your room’ is music to a device-owning child’s ears and eyes, and for some it’s the ultimate reward. Perhaps we could all do with ‘going to our rooms’ to reflect on the importance of reflection itself. Boredom is the birthplace of creativity and a catalyst for problem-solving.
In schools, we now shy away from building in time for either quiet, independent contemplation or collaborative thought sharing. Lessons are now multi-sensory, multimedia, multifaceted productions with more bells and whistles than a Christmas display at Harrods. Why? Because we’re terrified of a bored child, or worse – a bored Ofsted inspector. But when we fill every second with activities, tasks, and interactive displays, we rob children of something vital: time to think. Time to listen. Time to question.
It’s the same out of school, when we are together as a family. Screens have become the go-to cure for boredom, but they don’t solve the problem – they mask it. And let me be honest, I’ve been there. Peppa Pig has single-handedly kept the peace and preserved my sanity during many of my children’s restaurant meltdowns. But the ubiquity of screens comes at a cost. Research consistently shows that excessive screen time is linked to everything from attention deficits to poor sleep.
And let’s not kid ourselves: it’s not just the kids. How many of us are guilty of half-listening to our children while scrolling Instagram or replying to work emails. We can’t possibly expect our children to understand how to regulate their screen time when we ourselves don’t have any kind of handle on our own. And the result? A generation of children (and parents!) who struggle to sit with their thoughts, who crave constant stimulation from so called ‘social’ media, while the requisite skills to actually be social wither away.
The need for realignment between home and school
It’s tempting to point the finger at society, parents or technology, but schools aren’t blameless. For all our talk of promoting wellbeing, we’re often guilty of overloading children with noise, distractions, and pressure to perform. We slap giant interactive screens on classroom walls and pack lessons with so much content that there’s no room left for stillness or simplicity.
However, playing the blame game is not going to help the current and future generation of children. This is about the need for partnership. Children thrive when home and school are aligned. When the messages they receive are consistent, and when both environments model the same values. But right now, there’s a gap. Schools often feel like they’re picking up the slack, while parents feel judged for falling short. Neither is productive.
Instead, we need to co-produce solutions, which as a bare minimum could include the following:
A final reflection
The reality is, schools can’t do it all alone. Nor can parents. But with open communication, aligned expectations, and a willingness to adapt, we can build a future where children are better equipped to navigate their digital world, without losing their ability to connect in the real one.
Ultimately, children’s needs haven’t changed as much as we think. Maslow’s pyramid is as relevant today as it always has been, perhaps more so, even. What’s changed is the way we meet those needs – or fail to. But whether you’re a parent or educator, the solution is the same: making time and opportunity for high-quality, two-way communication, for meaningful thought and reflection.
It needs to be okay again for children to be bored. It needs to be okay again for us adults, too. Screens can’t replace us. Nor can AI for that matter, but that’s a conversation for another day. In the end, it’s not the algorithms that raise or teach our children. It’s us.
Matt Smerin is Deputy Head at Mathilda Marks-Kennedy Jewish Primary School, and previously part of the Senior Leadership Team at Naima JPS. In his past life, he was Operations Director for an international translation agency, and has spent time living in Luxembourg and in Hungary. He is a exceptionally proud to be part of the Lira Winston Fellowship, through which he recently had the privilege of attending the Prizmah Conference in Boston, which reassured hom that the future of Jewish Education is in very good hands indeed. Matt has a particular interest in the mental health and wellbeing of children, which exists in duality alongside his interest in digital literacy.
