As a former kid who once pedaled my bike from dawn ’til dusk—scraping knees on forest stumps, building forts in fallen logs—I couldn’t help but cheer. Our youth deserve more than four-inch rectangles glowing in their palms; they need wide-open skies and the thrill of discovery.

I didn’t get my first cell phone until halfway through college, so school for me was a screen-free land of wandering. That’s why Gilbert Schuerch’s essay, “My School Banned Phones for the Year. Here’s What Happened,” felt like a homecoming. You can read it yourself, but here’s the story that grabbed me.

On the first morning of the ban, students filed in and—almost reverently—slipped phones, AirPods, and smartwatches into locked boxes. The click of the latches was like a collective exhale: no pouches to pry open, no secret vibrations tugging at thumbs. I remember expecting uproar, but instead there was a moment of hush, as if everyone agreed to give real life a shot.

Across that year, magic unfolded in the everyday. The cafeteria, once a chorus of doomscrolling, transformed into a riot of laughter and conversation. In gym class, the usual wall-sitters faced a choice: join the fast break or endure genuine boredom. I could almost see their puzzled faces—“No phone? Now what?”—before they sprinted to catch the ball, trading a dopamine ping for a real rush.

Schuerch sprinkles in moments that resonate: a senior who “resigned himself to a year of boredom” only to discover by November that talking to classmates felt thrilling. A dean’s phone cart rumbling through the lunchroom, met by a stampede of kids like hyenas at fresh meat. These snapshots took me straight back to my own childhood summers—chasing sunbeams through the woods, not echoes of notification alerts.

He’s honest that this isn’t a cure-all for Gen-Z’s tech habits, but it’s a start. If locking away phones can rekindle curiosity, spark genuine connection, and make boredom a worthy foe, then maybe we’ve been underestimating what happens when we simply look up.

So if you’re curious—if you’ve ever longed to see students meet each other’s eyes instead of their screens—take a few minutes to read Gilbert Schuerch’s piece, lock up your own assumptions, and remember what it feels like to learn, laugh, and live beyond the glare of a screen.