AS A LONGTIME community college teacher, I have hosted a lot of end-of-the-semester parties that you probably wouldn’t want to attend. There was the party with nothing but a jug of orange soda, four bags of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, and no napkins. At another gathering, students were sprinkling potato chips on ice cream, then putting that on pizza, and no one acted as if this were out of the ordinary.
Last week, I would have paid to go to any of these parties, because despite the questionable food choices, people were having fun. They were laughing and eating and telling jokes. There was eye contact and lots of smiling.
Contrast that with the party I hosted last week, in a classroom where I had 24 semesters of positive memories. At this “party,” such as it was, the students filled up their plates, brought them back to our table, and then took out their phones and started scrolling. Even though we were seated in a circle, no one talked to anyone else. The students ate and scrolled, ate and scrolled. I did not want to lecture or berate them, so I started doing some teaching, just to interrupt the painful silence.





