During a recent session with my Center’s Paul Robeson and Anna Julia Scholars (a program for interdisciplinary academic engagement and social justice work at the University of Pennsylvania), we were discussing final exams preparation, and I floated what I thought was a fairly simple question. As we unpacked it — via healthy debate — I quickly realized that it was much more complicated than I had imagined.

The question was, “Would you consider turning your phones off while you were in serious exam prep mode?”

How did reading that question make you feel? Did you experience immediate shock, wondering how I could utter such words? Did you have a mini panic attack, imagining what you might be missing? Did you begin reaching for excuses (“What if my momma calls me?”) as a rationale to keep your phone on? Did you even consider what it might be like to turn it off, or did you brand this question as sheer foolishness and move on with your life? Do you even know how to turn your phone off (without having the battery die because you forgot your charger)?

So here’s the thing with me. I’m from the generation that came into adulthood without having a phone in our pockets. I remember beepers (and I still don’t know why we had them, but we figured out how to make them send the most basic text messages, so you’re welcome for that) then not-so-fancy flip phones with monochrome screens and poor reception. Pulling the antenna up made you feel better about the possibility of a better signal, but didn’t really help. I also remember having a bunch of separate things — an iPod, a digital camera, a calculator, a video camera, a notebook, a calendar/planner, a voice recorder, a flashlight, a flip phone, a bus schedule, a GPS, a debit card, a coupon book, a USB drive and a portable TV (I didn’t actually have a portable TV, but I wanted one). Now our phones are all of these things and more. Which is the gift and the curse.

I also remember landlines. They are still a thing, but they used to be the only thing. Many years ago I was reading a book on how to be a more productive human being, and there was a point that stuck with me. The author said that phones are convenience items. Referring to the landline era, it was important to remember that when the phone would ring, you had the option to answer it or not. People used to break their necks hopping out of bathtubs, running down steps, jumping over pets and small children to pick up the house phone before the last ring. Except during dinner time. I remember that vividly. If someone called during family dinner, my parents would be like, “Who would be calling now while we’re eating?” and just wait for the call to go to voicemail (I also remember when we first got answering machines and voicemail. #GameChangers). Needless to say that after reading that book, I began strategically answering the phone only when I felt like it wasn’t interrupting my flow, and I haven’t changed since. The rise of telemarketers and bill connectors most certainly fueled my selectivity. And when caller ID entered the equation, it basically meant that if I didn’t recognize your number, we probably weren’t going to be talking.

You all get that. You have absolutely no issues ignoring calls from friends, strangers, family and foes. I’ve seen you do it, and I respect your game. But all that other stuff you do with your phones. That’s a problem.

When I meet with students, I’m constantly amazed by how many things are going on in their phones. Something happens and then you get a notification that it happened. So that’s two things. You might think that you get to decide what you will pay attention to, but even quickly acknowledging an alert breaks you away partially from whatever you were doing before the alert and forces you to determine whether this new thing that just occurred somewhere in the world and got routed to your phone is worth further investigation now — or can it be handled later, if at all. Thirty seconds after that there’s another alert so you have to repeat the process. How many times a day do you go through this? Hundreds? Thousands? For me, it’s only a few dozen, and mostly just because of direct text messages. I’m not (and never will be) in any group texting apps and I’ve turned most of my notifications off, because I absolutely could not function if every other second something was buzzing to get my attention.

The other elephant in the room that we must address is when you want to use your phones to proactively procrastinate. You pull up Twitter to see what’s happening, then two hours later, you’re still there, and the same things are happening. But you know what isn’t happening? Studying. (And you know what could happen next? You decide to start studying but then you quickly get tired because your brain has been processing two hours of tweets, so you take a nap).

With December upon us the bitter reality is that each day counts even more than the previous one. Final exams and papers are going to proceed as scheduled whether you’ve used your time wisely or not. It’s up to you to understand how you’re managing your focus and making the most of each moment. Maybe you’ve never truly thought about how much your phone may be getting in your way, and how costly each little alert or temptation to see how many likes you have is pulling you away from really zeroing in on the things you need to get done. Maybe you’ve never given yourself the opportunity to be single-minded and phone-free. I encourage you to give it a try, even if just for a couple of hours a day. No question, your phone puts a whole lot of power in your hands. Putting your phone down does, too.

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