iPad Babies Have More Tantrums

 This week’s article summary is Why iPad Babies Have More Tantrums.

The author is an educational researcher on the effects screen time has on children’s cognitive, social-emotional, and physical development. Her research began years ago by measuring the length of time kids watched television, which used to be the dominant entertainment technology. Today mobile phones and tablets are more commonly used by children. 

Whether it’s TV or iPads, she has consistently found a correlation between the overuse of technology and delays in children’s physical, cognitive, and social-emotional development. 

But there’s a major difference between TV and mobile devices: televisions aren’t portable.

With mobile devices, parents have a readily-available babysitter beyond the living room — the article refers to using mobile devices to keep kids occupied as digital pacification. 

Many kids today use a mobile device not only as a distraction but also as a calming device when they are emotionally dysregulated. Research shows that by using an extrinsic method, younger children aren’t being given the chance to develop their own internal calming and coping mechanisms, i.e., developing executive function skills, discussed in last week’s summary

This inability to regulate emotions in age-appropriate ways has an adverse effect on students in school: poorer attention, lack of self-regulation, inability to work with others, difficulty with problem solving, etc.

While I am always hesitant to find one cause for a change in students, the article is a reminder that as an elementary school, Trinity needs to avoid leaning too heavily on technology. It’s a useful tool, but our children need face-to-face time with peers to build the skills they need for middle school and beyond.

I do wonder if the technology pendulum has begun to swing back: at this year’s Admissions Open Houses, prospective parents have asked how we limit technology use in the classrooms. Perhaps our incoming students will be less reliant on technology as their parents are beginning to limit its use and availability at home.

Joe

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We’ve all seen it happen: a young child is having a tantrum in public. They get fussy, sitting in the seat of the grocery cart or waiting with their parents to board a plane. Their voice gets louder, their face goes red. They might start pulling things off the shelves at the store, kicking their seat or even their parents. 

But before the cranky child reaches full-blown meltdown mode, they’re pacified; a tablet appears before them, playing their favorite cartoon, and, like magic, the tantrum is forgotten. The child stares, wide-eyed at the screen. Everyone around them sighs, thankful that the meltdown was avoided. 

I’ve been studying children’s screentime since 2009. Back then, I was interested in how TV consumption was contributing to their early school readiness and development.  

I studied a sample of children born in 1998 who would have been preschoolers in the early 2000s—years before the introduction of tablets and smartphones. Our studies found that TV screentime contributed to children’s school readiness across the board: it was related to their cognitive readiness, their social readiness, and their physical motor readiness. Kids who spent more hours per day watching television had less classroom engagement, more interpersonal problems with peers, a smaller vocabulary, and worse motor development. 

Of course, TV is no longer the default screen for kids. A 2025 report by Common Sense Media found that 40 per cent of toddlers have their own tablet by the time they’re two. Children in the two-to-four age range spent about two hours per day on screens, while those under two watch screens for about one hour per day. 

Imagine a three-year-old named Emma who likes to watch her favorite cartoon on a tablet. Her parents are happy because it keeps her occupied while they make dinner or do chores. But over time, Emma wants to spend more time on the tablet. When her parents say no, she gets angry and frustrated. The tablet calms her down, so sometimes, Emma’s parents bring it out to avoid a tantrum. This is what researchers call digital emotion regulation, or digital pacifying, and it’s an effective and often immediate strategy. The child calms down nearly instantly, and parents avoid a public outburst. In the short term, it’s a miracle. In the long term, not so much. 

In 2020, I ran a study measuring children’s and parents’ screen use. We found that three-year-olds who spent more time on tablets had more outbursts of anger and frustration one year later. We also found that, by age four, the children who had more outbursts were more likely to have even more screen use by age five. In a separate study, we asked parents how frequently they used tablets specifically with the aim of calming children down. Once again, more tablet use at age three was associated with more outbursts of anger and frustration at age four, and worse self-control. 

It’s a vicious cycle, where using screens to calm tantrums actually increases how often a child has tantrums in the future. We don’t know exactly what it is about screens that are causing this spiral, but it likely comes back to the fact that a tablet is an external regulation tool. That’s why it’s an effective way to stop a meltdown—it shifts children’s focus away from their emotions and onto the screen. It’s a quick fix, but it stops children from learning to regulate themselves.

Educators are concerned that children are coming into kindergarten with insufficient autonomy. This is one of the first times we expect kids to act on their own—they need to be able to take off their own jackets, follow instructions for classwork, sit at their desks. When kids struggle with autonomy, they have a hard time adapting to this transition.

Anecdotally, I’ve heard from early childhood professionals who say children now struggle more with social situations. When a conflict arises—say, if another child takes their toy—they are overly reliant on the teacher to intervene. I’ve also heard occupational therapists say they are noticing more and more young children with motor delays who can’t tie their shoes, zip up their jackets, or put on their winter clothes.

These delays might be explained by the displacement hypothesis: if children are spending more time using screens, they have less time for imaginary play, exploring their environment, or interacting with caregivers or other children. Screens can borrow time away from these activities that are developmentally essentially for children. 

Children generally improve their self-regulation during preschool years, but it’s not an automatic fix: they need adults to help them. One way is through shared book-reading, when parents can explain how characters handle negative emotions. Understanding how Junie B. Jones deals with a tough situation can help a child adopt similar strategies.  

We know that low emotional regulation can plague kids into their adult life, affecting their relationships and their physical and mental health. When we use phones as pacifiers, we’re denying kids critical opportunities to learn to regulate their emotions, setting them up for a harder go later in life. The earlier we intervene, the easier it is to snap out of the cycle.

 

 

The Power of Yet

This week’s article summary is The Power of Yet.

I saw this article over Spring Break as I was previewing two summer reading options -- The Kids Who Aren't Okay and The Executive Function Playbook. 

While many common themes emerged in these readings, most significant to me was that we teachers always need to keep our focus on the long game: teaching, after all, is about tour students’ gradual development of essential habits and skills, particularly executive functioning.

The readings also pointed out that just as kids are more prone to be preoccupied with the present and lose sight of the progress and process of learning, teachers can also get consumed with the here and now.

Even during the inevitable stressful times in a school year, we need to resist letting little irritants cloud our perspective; we need to always look for the growth — no matter how incremental — in our students.

The Executive Function Playbook described how difficult it can be for kids to focus on the future. Using hindsight (looking back) and foresight (looking forward), which are key components of self-regulation, are challenges for many children. Students are more driven by immediate gratification and external stimuli; nevertheless, our goal for them is to develop self-control, including the ability to delay gratification. As research shows, self-regulation and self-control are critical indicators of future success. 

So, while our focus is often on math, literacy, and our students’ immediate behavior, we can never forget that executive function development of self-awareness, self-regulation, self-motivation, and self-evaluation are equally, if not more, crucial for our students.

The article below focuses on Carol Dweck’s research about the benefits of our students having a growth mindset, which can help them look towards the future. Using the word yet can help them recognize that learning is a process that requires effort, perseverance, and time. The books above provide scaffolding strategies teachers can utilize to help students:

• Frequent reminders about how learning is a process of many small steps and that missteps are inevitable and vital to learning
• Mindfulness techniques, like taking deep breaths, to avoid instantly reacting to external stimuli can help students make more thoughtful, rational decisions
• At the start of the school day, have students close their eyes and visualize the many choices a student will make in a day
• Limit screen time at home and at school (the books agree that even in school screen time needs to be limited)

As teachers, we know we are preparing our students for the future. However, as they are prone to think mostly about the present, we need to remind them of the future, i.e., to be their executive function until they develop their own.

Joe

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A few weeks ago, my daughter burst through the door after school, ranting about her social studies teacher. “He’s making us label all 50 states on a map, and the test is in two days,” she fumed.  “I think he wants us to fail! I’m not even going to try.”

For teachers and parents, this is an all-too-familiar scenario. A task is set, it feels insurmountable, and, instead of embracing the challenge as an opportunity for learning and growth, our young scholars wave the white flag.

I can’t do it. It’s not possible. What’s the point in trying?

Carol Dweck, pioneer of mindset research, posed a powerful question: “Are we raising our children for now instead of yet?” 

To illustrate her meaning, consider a statement you’ve likely heard (or said yourself): “I’m not good at math.”

Presented this way, mathematical ability (or lack thereof) is as indisputable as eye color. But add one small word and the meaning shifts: “I’m not good at math—yet.”

In one of her early studies, Dweck and her team explored how different types of praise influenced students’ reactions to struggle. 

Fifth graders were asked to complete a simple set of problems, then randomly assigned to receive one of two responses: “You must be smart at this,” or, “You must have worked hard.” 

Next, they were given a far more difficult problem set. Predictably, they performed poorly and were told as much by the research team. 

Then, something interesting happened. The students initially praised for hard work wanted to keep at the tougher problems, attributing their struggles to insufficient effort. 

But the students praised for their smarts? As Dweck described it, their failure felt catastrophic. Their core intelligence had been tested and devastated. These students largely showed no interest in further attempts at the hard problems, blaming their lackluster scores on lack of ability. 

Lastly, the students completed a final problem set similar to the first they’d done well on. Here, the effort-praised students improved their scores, while the ability-praised students did worse.

Dweck concluded that ability-focused feedback had negative short-term implications on students’ motivation. Or, as she put it, “Instead of the power of yet, they were gripped by the tyranny of now.”

She went on to posit that repeated exposure to effort-focused feedback over time could help shape students’ core beliefs about their capacity to develop intelligence through hard work. 

For teachers interested in cultivating growth mindsets, yet is a simple, effective feedback technique that can be used in a variety of contexts to reinforce the changeable nature of one’s ability.

• I’m not a good writer—yet.
• I can’t draw—yet.
• I’m not organized—yet.

Yet acknowledges where a student is right now while refusing to accept it’s where they must remain. Paired with the right resources and support, yet can create the ideal conditions for growth and change.

Back in my kitchen, I agreed with my daughter that recognizing every state is hard—especially those small ones in the Northeast—and two days isn’t much time. But her teacher clearly believed she could do it, and so did I. “But, Mom, I can’t remember all 50 states in two days.”

“That’s true,” I acknowledged. “You can’t identify them—yet.”

And thus began the journey. An app was downloaded. Her first effort yielded 12 correctly identified states. I showed her how Michigan resembles a mitten and Louisiana a boot. 

Her dad tried his hand and scored a dismal 21. We Googled why there’s a North Dakota and a South Dakota and not just a Dakota, and where the word “Wyoming” comes from. 

Two days later, she burst through the door again. This time, declaring victory: “50 out of 50!”

The task didn’t change. The timeline didn’t change. The only thing that changed was her willingness to try—fueled by the power of yet.

Next time a student enters your classroom carrying a story about their ability, adding yet can interrupt their conclusion and invite them to keep going. Yet as part of your feedback repertoire helps create a classroom culture where learning is expected to be incomplete, mistakes are normal, and effort is part of the process—not evidence of some fundamental inadequacy. Over time, the echo of your yets may even take root in your students’ inner voices, ready to remind them that where they are today does not limit where they can go.