2 days ago
Schoolkids don't need smartphones: A Sydney mum's ban on her teenager having a phone should not baffle educators
A 13-year-old boy is being teased by classmates.
Not for his clothes, his grades, or his hairstyle - but because he doesn't have a smartphone.
Sydney mother of three and primary school teacher, Monica Cura, made the decision years ago to hold off.
No screen time before age five.
An iPad at nine, purely for schoolwork. And phones? That's a firm not yet.
'It wasn't even something we discussed,' Ms Cura told me.
'It just didn't occur to us to give him one. He'll get one when he can afford to buy it himself. Until then, there's no need.'
Her stance is clear, consistent, and deeply rational: her son doesn't need a phone, she can't adequately monitor one, and frankly, he's still a child.
But apparently, that makes Ms Cura, and her son, a target.
'He does get comments from other kids' she said. 'His friends call him 'iPad boy' because that's what he uses at home to talk to them.'
What's more disturbing is that the comments aren't just coming from other kids.
'Teachers have made comments to him suggesting it was odd that he didn't have a phone," she told me.
'His sporting coach pulled my husband aside to ask why he wasn't on the team group chat with the other children'.
This is where the story stops being quirky and starts being concerning.
Because when adults are reinforcing the idea that every child should have a smartphone, and subtly shaming those who don't, we've lost our way.
As a child psychologist, I hear stories like hers far too often.
What used to be a considered parenting decision - to delay giving a child a phone - has now become something a parent feels they must defend.
Ms Cura's son isn't isolated or unsafe.
He trains at an elite level in soccer, catches public transport independently, and communicates with friends at home via his iPad - with appropriate boundaries in place.
And yet, he's being made to feel like an outsider, not just by his peers, but by the very adults meant to support his wellbeing.
'He doesn't even nag us about it,' Ms Cura said.
'He knows where we stand. He did try to make a case - he said he needs it for training updates or because he catches the bus. But we get the emails too.
'And he can actually walk to school if he wants. He just thought maybe that excuse would convince us.'
But she and her husband held firm.
'We've had parents come up to us and say, 'Wow, that's amazing, I wish I'd done that.' Others have said they gave their kids phones and now regret it.'
I see the clinical consequences of early, unrestricted smartphone access every week.
Kids who are anxious, distracted, emotionally volatile.
Children as young as 10 exposed to violent pornographic content.
Pre-teens addicted to dopamine-driven social media feedback loops.
And parents bewildered at how fast they lost control.
As of 2023, 37 per cent of Australian children under the age of 12 own a smartphone, an increase from 22 per cent in 2018.
According to a global OECD report, Australian teenagers average 49 hours a week on digital devices, placing them among the heaviest users worldwide.
Notably, 12 per cent of Australian teenagers spend over 80 hours weekly on screens.
That's the equivalent of a full-time job - plus overtime - spent staring at a screen.
For a generation still forming its identity, attention span, and social skills, this level of exposure isn't just excessive; it's developmentally catastrophic.
Smartphones aren't neutral tools.
They're highly sophisticated devices designed to hold adult attention - let alone that of a still-developing brain.
From a neurological standpoint, the prefrontal cortex, responsible for impulse control, planning, and risk assessment, continues developing into the mid-20s. Children and early teens are simply not equipped to self-regulate their usage, navigate social comparison, or resist the pull of addictive algorithms. Giving them unfiltered access to that kind of power is, quite literally, developmentally mismatched.
And yet culturally, we're doing exactly that - en masse.
The problem isn't just that kids want phones.
It's that adults have normalised this want as a need.
Teachers ask why a child doesn't have a phone, instead of asking why so many do.
Coaches expect group chats with 13-year-olds, instead of communicating with parents.
We act like having a device is a developmental milestone, rather than a lifestyle choice.
Ms Cura, to her credit, has stood her ground.
'We just don't see why he needs one,' she said. 'They're on screens all the time at school. Homework's online. That's already enough. Outside of that, they need to be looking around, being present. But instead you see kids and adults walking around with their heads down, staring at screens.'
She's right. The presence of a phone changes the entire ecology of a child's world.
It alters how they interact with peers, with parents, with boredom, with the physical world itself.
And often, it robs them of things that are developmentally essential - creativity, stillness, resilience, even real friendship.
Some parents justify early phone use for safety. Ms Cura doesn't buy it.
'People say, 'Oh, they need it to get picked up from school.' But there are phones that just receive calls,' she said.
'There are other ways to manage that. You don't need a smartphone with access to everything.'
She's right again. The real reason most kids have phones isn't necessity.
It's convenience. It's conformity. It's because the rest of us gave in.
But Ms Cura's story shows something powerful: you cansay no.
You can delay.
And your child will not combust.
They may, in fact, turn out better for it.
We need more parents like her, not fewer.
Parents who don't outsource boundaries to the crowd.
Who understand that development doesn't speed up just because society has.
And who are willing to put up with the teasing, the eye-rolls, and the awkward silences because they care more about raising a whole child than a popular one.
And if you're a parent holding out, or wanting to, let this story be your reminder: you're not crazy.
You're just ahead of the curve.
Clare Rowe is a Sky News contributor.
