The Challenge of Modern Parenting
In nearly every Moroccan household, a familiar scene unfolds that has become so commonplace that we scarcely notice it anymore: a small child, barely three or four years old, deftly holding a smartphone in their tiny hands, swiping across the screen with an instinctual ease that defies explanation. No one has explicitly taught them this skill; they simply learned it, much like we adults learn to walk or talk. This phenomenon prompts a critical question that resonates across families from Casablanca to Oujda and from Marrakech to Nador: Who is raising our children today? Is it the parents, or perhaps the grandparents as it once was, or have we inadvertently transferred this responsibility to a small screen that tirelessly engages them?
The Smartphone as a Caregiver
Many Moroccan mothers confess, often quietly and with a hint of embarrassment, that the smartphone has become the quick fix when their child cries in a public place or when they desperately need ten minutes of peace to complete a cooking task or a work call. The smartphone does not tire, it does not resist, and it demands nothing in return. It serves as the ideal companion for a weary father after a long day at work, and for a mother juggling the demands of home and career. However, the issue lies not in the device itself, which is merely a tool devoid of intent. The real problem is that we, as parents, have entrusted it with a role we never intended: the role of upbringing. A child spending countless hours engrossed in rapidly changing short videos learns a specific rhythm of thought, a certain way of coping with boredom, and even a particular model of relationships and behavior, all without the guidance or correction of a parent or teacher.
Our generation, as today’s parents, experienced moments of boredom. We knew what it was like to be restless during holidays, to play in the neighborhood, and to wait an entire week to watch a single episode of a cartoon on Thursdays. While this boredom often felt frustrating at the time, it cultivated within us qualities such as patience, imagination, and the ability to create play out of nothing. Today’s children, however, lack this experience of boredom. The moment they feel restless, they instinctively reach for their phones, and the boredom vanishes in seconds. While this may seem convenient in the moment, it deprives the child of a fundamental opportunity: to learn how to be alone with themselves and to confront emptiness without fleeing from it.
Another protective element in Morocco has been, and perhaps still is in certain areas, the extended family. The grandmother who tells stories, the uncle who jokes, and the neighbors who watch over the children with affection form a genuine social network that participated in parenting without any formal announcement. Today, with the disintegration of this network in major cities and everyone distracted by their phones, children often find themselves truly alone, even when surrounded by family.
So, what can we do? The solution does not lie in completely banning smartphones, as this is both unrealistic and ineffective in our time. Rather, the answer is to restore balance. We need to set screen time limits just as we do for meals and sleep. We should sit down with our children and occasionally watch with them, not merely to monitor their activity but to understand what they consume and why they enjoy it. We must reestablish a place for boredom, allowing children to feel it without rushing to rescue them with a smartphone. Moreover, we, as adults, must also recognize that our eyes are often glued to screens more than we realize, and that children learn through imitation long before they learn through words. Ultimately, the question extends beyond who is raising our children; it challenges us to consider whether we are still the ones making that decision, or if we have handed over the reins to an algorithm that knows nothing of our children and cares little for their future.
As reported by hespress.com.
