Switch Off, Look Up

Australia’s social media ban for under-16s came into effect last December. At the time, there was plenty of back-and-forth about its purpose and hopeful outcomes — everyone had an opinion. Adults had theirs, and kids, very rightly, had their own. For now, though, we're not interested in what the adults think. We asked our Year 6 students from Penbank and Minimbah how the ban has — or hasn’t — affected their everyday lives. 

First things first, they were quick to point out its flaws. Age verification is unreliable. Workarounds are there for the taking. Some platforms are still accessible in ways the new policy didn’t anticipate. For others, without the feed to fall back on, attention wafted outwards and outdoors — wheelies were practised daily, books were read, junk journals were started and generally, a lot more nature was included. 

'I like it because other kids aren’t focusing on it so much, and it is not the only thing to talk about.'
Just as you only notice the fridge buzzing when it stops, the online hold has worked much the same way. There was no ticker-tape parade as devices were ceremoniously thrown into the river to cheering crowds. It was quieter and more legitimate. When the algorithm stops telling enough people what to think, there’s a wide-open space to be filled with human-thought. And even with workarounds, collectively, the online hold let go a little. 

What exactly have the kids been let go from? The platforms that are ‘banned’ are just some of the ones that control what they see online. The algorithm gets a whiff of what they’ve looked at and shows them more of it. It’s not personal, it’s business. The feed narrows. What’s reflected back tightens. Who you think you are reduces down — like something that’s been simmering on the stove too long — to a smaller, overcooked digital version of you. And you’re left feeling pretty ordinary without a pinpointable reason why. 

That feels personal to me.

We’re there on the stove, too. Boiled down to clicks and likes, our precious time evaporated. Young people are the most vulnerable, though. They hit an age where they are calmer on the outside, fewer noisy needs, they don’t need you to reach the peanut butter anymore. They are more independent, turning away from us and toward the broader world. This, in and of itself, is a good thing; it’s what they are supposed to do. But throw in the aggressive algorithm and their emotional development can get hip-and-shouldered off course.

The easy read is that screens are the enemy. But it’s more peculiar than that. There’s an old saying: a gilded cage is still a cage. No one stays happily caged unless they’ve forgotten, or never learned, what to do when the door opens. The ban may or may not have worked entirely as intended; there are still plenty of under-16s online, but everything has a flow-on effect. Now that there are enough who aren’t, it means this collective looking up is a break from the loop. 

So, look up and then what? 

With renewed capacity to hold their gaze on something without refreshing a feed, to stay with and struggle with a hard question or to tolerate the slow build of understanding, is building their capacity. That’s a good thing. 

Woodleigh is not a content delivery service. Passive consumption is the opposite of what we believe helps young people grow.  Agency and authorship are at the centre of teaching and learning; relationships and experiences are the core of our community. 

So, we closely watch these social, emotional and learning patterns. 

The ban is a rudimentary fix for a complex problem but the problem it points towards is in our everyday lives — and there’s something we can do about it. Looking up is a start, but looking around is even better. At Woodleigh, it’s a curriculum design question we return to every time we plan learning. What does an experience ask of a student’s ability to struggle and succeed? Does it reward staying, or does it offer the easy way out?