Nine Hours a Day: Is Childhood Becoming a Full-Time Screen Job?

The hidden costs of excessive screen time on development, focus, and family life

We may be raising the first generation of children who will never truly experience silence.

I say this not as a critic looking in, but as someone who has seen it up close—on hospital ward rounds, in clinic rooms, and increasingly, in my own community. I walk into hospital rooms where screens outnumber people. A child clutches a tablet on full volume, eyes darting between that and a massive TV playing in front. The parent, meanwhile, is working on a laptop, glancing at their phone with every notification that comes through. In that room of bright lights and digital noise, a junior doctor stands quietly, trying—and failing—to get anyone’s attention.

Scenes like this are becoming commonplace, everywhere. They are, heartbreakingly, becoming the norm.

Then I read this latest article, confirming again what we keep trying to ignore: primary school children now average six-and-a-half hours of screen time each day. By junior high, that figure balloons to nearly nine. That’s more than a full-time job. Longer than they likely sleep. And certainly more than they spend outdoors, playing, resting, or talking to the people who love them.

Where is the space now for scraped knees, for cardboard forts and backyard adventures? What happened to staring at the clouds, or asking strange questions, or getting bored enough to invent something entirely new? Those quiet, slow, unstructured moments (something essential to being a child)—the ones where curiosity is nurtured and imagination is born—are vanishing. These are the moments I personally crave. I would find any reason to go for a long walk or run, to let my mind wander, and my soul be free.

We now have substantial evidence that excessive screen time is associated with delayed language development, poor sleep, reduced attention spans, and impaired executive function. These aren’t just bad habits—they’re developmental detours. I see kids who can’t sit still, who melt down when the device is taken away. Parents who are tired, who don't know how they got here. And what’s most painful is this: many of these kids didn’t choose this. We did. We handed them the device. We clapped when it kept them quiet. We didn’t know how much harm it could do.

Psychologist Brad Marshall said it clearly: “Gaming addiction and smartphone addiction start in primary school.” (1) That should sound like a fire alarm. But as a society, we keep hitting snooze. We’ve told ourselves this is a teenage problem, something that they can deal with later. But the evidence shows otherwise. Ten-year-olds are now showing signs of clinical-level gaming disorder (2). Ten years. Not teenagers pushing boundaries, but children still losing their baby teeth—children who should be falling off bikes or skates, not falling into addiction loops.

Instead, we’ve handed them some of the most addictive technology ever made, engineered by experts to capture and hold their attention. These aren’t harmless games or innocent apps—they are digital slot machines, crafted to stimulate and manipulate young, developing brains. We’ve given them dopamine loops and reward schedules masquerading as “entertainment.” And we wonder why they can’t stop.

The Nine-Hour Screen Day- What’s at stake?

They’re not learning to read a friend’s face, or to sit with frustration, process their emotions, or to play fair and lose gracefully. They’re not building strength, balance, or coordination. Their posture curves. They’re not developing the kind of boredom tolerance that breeds creativity and emotional growth. They're not learning how to slow down.

Instead, their attention spans are being worn down to a thread. Their sleep is broken and restless. Their ability to find joy in simple things—like a walk in nature or a family dinner—is diminished. Why? Because the human brain isn’t wired to handle constant rapid-fire stimulation. And when their baseline for engagement becomes that high, everything else feels dull. Unbearably dull. Take the classroom for example.

We’re raising children who are used to being entertained, not engaged. Who are wired for reward, not reflection. If they don’t like a reel- swipe down. If they don’t like a YouTube video- go to the next one. And it's not because they're weak or undisciplined—it's because we placed incredibly powerful technology in their hands before they were ready.

And what’s left?

Not just exhaustion. Not just tantrums. But a real and measurable loss. A loss of imagination, resilience, empathy, and connection. They lose the chance to build relationships through shared play. They lose the quiet, sacred moments that form a child’s inner world.

And yet, we continue to treat this as an individual parenting issue—when it is a full-blown public health crisis. We wouldn’t let tobacco companies advertise directly to ten-year-olds. But we allow tech giants to use persuasive design and behavioural psychology to keep our children scrolling, tapping, watching, and craving more.

This isn’t about demonising technology. I’m not calling for a digital ban or a return to the stone age. Technology, when used well, can teach, inspire, and connect. I am all for technology, and I am not ashamed to admit it. But we’ve lost the balance. We've lost control of something that was meant to serve us.

And the cost? It's their minds, their focus, their joy. Their childhood.

Is there hope?

In St Albans, England, a bold community initiative banned smartphones for kids under 14. Within a year, phone ownership dropped from 75% to 12%. That’s what it looks like to put children first. That’s what it looks like to love them more than we fear resistance or ridicule (3). The result? Improved attention, better interpersonal relationships, reduced bullying, amongst others. Some issues remained, but importantly, progress is made. I remain uncertain if we need to immediately embark on this smartphone resistance movement, but perhaps we have no choice.

Connie Tao Li's story offers a fierce, inspiring counterpoint (1). Her admission that this choice is "hard work" reveals the unglamorous reality of forgoing the easy escape of screens. And it’s powerfully honest. By raising her children to "tolerate" and "wait," even through a broken leg, she proves their innate resilience and imagination. Her journey reveals the core truth: managing screens requires parents to do the exhausting work of being present, not just the simple act of saying no.

This is personal for me. Not just as a paediatrician who sees the effects every day—but as a dad. I want to protect my daughter’s focus. Her sense of wonder. Her ability to fall in love with life, not a screen. I want her to grow up looking at stars, not pixels. To be able to focus where and when it matters. I want her to be still enough to hear her own thoughts.

Let’s not be passive observers in this. Let’s be the adults they need us to be.

Let’s fight for their childhoods—not with guilt or fear—but with courage, clarity, and intention.

Before silence becomes something they never knew.

References.

1. Jordan Baker. Gaming, smartphone addiction starts in primary school as daily screen times soar. The Sydney Morning Herald. Accessed 16 June 2025. https://www.smh.com.au/national/gaming-smartphone-addiction-starts-in-primary-school-as-daily-screen-times-soar-20250609-p5m605.html

2. Primary School Gaming Addiction Rises with Screen Time. The Mirage. Accessed 16 June 2025. https://www.miragenews.com/primary-school-gaming-addiction-rises-with-1476797/

3. Amelia Gentleman. ‘The crux of all evil’: what happened to the first city that tried to ban smartphones for under-14s? The Guardian. Accessed 16 June 2025. https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2025/may/07/the-crux-of-all-evil-what-happened-to-the-first-city-that-tried-to-ban-smartphones-for-under-14s