My son isn\u2019t getting his mitts on anything connected to the internet anytime soon <\/p>\n
I keep reading about the benefits of brick phones and landlines by folks who are trying to figure out how to keep the next generation safe from the perils of the internet. My seven-year-old is wonderfully excited about the sound of a brick phone. What\u2019s not to love for a young child? It has the words brick and phone in it.<\/p>\n
I\u2019m preparing for the reality of a brick phone \u2013 one with basic features so he can stay in contact, but no web access \u2013 to land in the next few years for him. The kid ain\u2019t getting his mitts on anything connected to the internet anytime soon.<\/p>\n
The revival of the mighty landline (the idea being that it still offers children agency and contact with friends) is something I am much more excited about. Not least because I effectively ran a switchboard as a child, such were the volume of calls I fielded and made during my post-school and weekend shifts. The sheer joy of this autonomous communication away from adults! And using fancy tech too!<\/p>\n
My parents did not share in my joy, regularly imposing bans and limits due to the bill and time consumed. Or just picking up another handset mid-call and interrupting because they needed to speak to someone. (I still shudder with embarrassment at the thought.)<\/p>\n
What I didn\u2019t realise is that all of these calls were training for being very happy in dynamic conversation<\/a>, becoming a storyteller and learning to listen well.<\/p>\n This week, I realised I need to get my seven-year-old in training for the moment we do buy a cordless blower to plug into the wall when I handed him my phone to make a call and he didn\u2019t put it to his ear. Instead he looked at it, awaiting a video.<\/p>\n I carefully explained he needed to put it to his ear and listen, or we could lay it down and listen and talk on speaker. The reason for this call was the revival of a treasure of the 1960s New York conceptual art scene: Dial-A-Poem, a charming, free, 24\/7 service that allows people in participating countries to dial a number and hear a poem.<\/p>\n I have been calling it once a day all week with said seven-year-old and his two-year-old sibling. The look of delight on their faces as a randomly assigned poem, read aloud by women and men from around the world, begins is a sight to behold. It\u2019s akin to the happiness I felt as child from dialling 1-2-3 to hear the speaking clock.<\/p>\n Dial-A-Poem features works by Patti Smith, John Ashbery, Philip Glass and many, many more. It was created by the poet and performance artist John Giorno in 1969 with six phones and answering machines housed at the Architectural League of New York, each set up with an audio tape to play once a call landed. He changed tapes every day so there was variety, and kept adding more voices and work.<\/p>\n Just by dialling 0204 5388 429, I kill two birds with one stone. My children learn the joy of making a call \u2013 not sending a text or watching a video \u2013 and they have poetry<\/a> and sometimes songs greeting them. This is not a children\u2019s service though \u2013 some more sexual or dark poems have required a re-dial. But with more than half of children and young people not engaging with poetry in any way in this country, according to a survey of almost 5,000 children and young people by the National Literacy Trust, this route is ingenious.<\/p>\n It also means the first time either of our children has really engaged with the word \u201cpoem\u201d at home has been something joyful and exciting that they can do together, and feel a little bit in charge of.<\/p>\n And by the end of this week, with a deadly attack on the synagogue I grew up attending meaning all radios and TVs are off while the children are home, Dial-A-Poem has become a whole other life line for us all. <\/p>\n