Have you ever watched a group of kids waiting somewhere and noticed how not one of them is talking to each other?
Last week at the library, I saw five kids sitting together, all on devices, completely silent. It made me think about the afternoons I spent as a kid, when boredom was just the starting point for whatever adventure we’d create next.
Growing up in a small Midwest town without much money meant entertainment was whatever we could dream up.
And honestly? I think we gained something powerful from that simplicity that today’s kids might be missing out on.
I spent seven years teaching kindergarten before having my daughter, and now as a mom watching how childhood has changed, I can’t help but notice the differences.
There’s something about pre-smartphone childhood that taught us things organically, without apps or tutorials.
1) How to be deeply, truly bored
Remember summer afternoons that stretched on forever? That restless feeling when you’d already read your library books twice and there was nothing on TV but soap operas? We learned to sit with boredom until it transformed into creativity.
My kids sometimes tell me they’re bored, and I resist the urge to hand them something electronic.
Instead, I channel my own childhood and say what my mom used to say: “Good! Now you’ll think of something interesting to do.”
Usually within 20 minutes, they’ve built a fort or started some elaborate game with sticks and rocks.
Boredom taught us patience. It taught us that not every moment needs to be filled with stimulation. Psychologists now talk about how important boredom is for developing creativity and self-awareness, but we lived it without knowing the science.
2) Reading actual maps and finding our way
Getting lost was part of the adventure, wasn’t it? I remember family road trips where my dad would pull over, unfold that massive paper map, and we’d all lean in trying to figure out where we were. Sometimes we’d take the wrong turn and discover something unexpected.
Kids today have GPS telling them exactly where to go, down to which lane to be in.
Yet those of us raised before smartphones learned spatial awareness differently. We noticed landmarks, remembered routes, developed an internal compass.
Last month, I deliberately took a wrong turn on the way to a new park with my kids.
“Are we lost?” my five-year-old asked, slightly worried.
“We’re exploring,” I told her, and we found a little farm stand we never knew existed. Getting lost teaches problem-solving and builds confidence in ways that perfect directions never can.
3) Making friends with whoever was around
You know what’s wild? We used to make friends based purely on geography. The kids on your street, in your class, at the park – those were your people. You couldn’t swipe through options or join online communities of kids who shared your exact interests.
This meant learning to get along with different personalities. The neighbor kid who was obsessed with bugs, the one who only wanted to play house, the kid who was way too competitive about everything; we figured out how to play together because they were who we had.
My own kids benefit from this approach. At the park, they play with whoever shows up. No checking social media to see who’s there first, no texting to coordinate. Just showing up and making it work with whoever else showed up too.
4) Entertaining ourselves on long trips
Six-hour car rides with nothing but the license plate game and whatever books you packed. Can you imagine suggesting that to kids today?
However, those long stretches taught us something valuable about entertaining ourselves with minimal resources.
We became experts at finding patterns in ceiling tiles during waiting room visits. We invented games with nothing but our hands.
We told stories, sang songs, and yes, annoyed our siblings endlessly, yet we also learned that we could generate our own entertainment from thin air.
Now when we take family trips, I pack art supplies and books but no screens for the car. The first hour is rough, but then magic happens. My kids start noticing things outside, making up stories about the people in other cars, creating games with their snack crackers. They’re learning what we knew instinctively: You don’t need to be entertained every second.
5) Waiting without distraction
Remember sitting in the doctor’s office with nothing, but ancient magazines and your own thoughts? Or waiting for your mom at the grocery store, just people-watching? We learned to be comfortable with stillness.
Today’s kids rarely experience true waiting. There’s always a screen to fill the gap, but learning to wait taught us patience and observation skills.
We noticed things: The way light came through windows, patterns in the wallpaper, conversations happening around us.
I try to recreate this for my children. When we’re early for something, we sit and watch.
“What do you notice?” I ask them.
At first, they fidget. Then they start seeing things: A bird building a nest, the way people walk differently when they’re in a hurry, clouds that look like dragons.
6) Playing until the streetlights came on
Our parents had no idea where exactly we were most afternoons. We’d head out after lunch and come back when the streetlights flickered on. Those hours taught us independence, risk assessment, and conflict resolution without adult intervention.
We climbed trees and figured out which branches would hold. We settled arguments about game rules ourselves. We learned which kids’ houses had the good snacks and which dogs were actually friendly despite looking scary.
Creating this kind of freedom now takes more intention. I can’t just send my kids out until dark in the same way, but we can approximate it.
Mornings at the park without structure, afternoons in the garden where they’re free to dig and explore, nature walks where they lead and I follow.
They need space to test boundaries and solve problems without me hovering.
7) Making things without tutorials
Want to know how something worked? You took it apart. Want to build something? You grabbed whatever materials you could find and figured it out. There were no YouTube tutorials, no Pinterest boards showing you exactly what your craft should look like.
This meant a lot of failed experiments: Forts that collapsed, “inventions” that didn’t work, art projects that looked nothing like what we imagined, but those failures taught us persistence and creative problem-solving.
I watch my kids now when they’re creating. Sometimes they ask to see how something “should” look.
“There’s no should,” I tell them, “your way is the right way.”
They’re learning what we knew before we had infinite examples at our fingertips: Creation is about the process.
8) Discovering information slowly
Questions used to linger. If you wondered about something, you might wait days or weeks before finding the answer in a library book or encyclopedia. That anticipation, that not-knowing, it did something important for our brains.
We developed theories, had debates, made educated guesses. The mystery stayed alive longer. When you finally found the answer, it meant something because you’d worked for it.
Now when my kids ask questions, I sometimes say, “That’s a great question. Let’s wonder about it for a while.”
We make guesses, draw pictures of what we think might be true, talk through possibilities. Then later, maybe at the library, we look it up together. The delay makes the discovery sweeter.
Finding the balance
As someone who spent seven years watching kindergarteners learn and grow, and now watches my own kids navigate childhood, I see the value in preserving some of these pre-smartphone experiences.
Childhood is sacred time that shouldn’t be rushed or constantly mediated by screens.
Those of us raised before smartphones aren’t better or worse than today’s kids, but we learned different skills through necessity.
Now we have to create intentionally what used to happen naturally.
Maybe this weekend, leave the phones at home for a few hours. These small acts of resistance against constant connectivity might just give them some of the gifts we received without even knowing it.
