This is not just a fly-by-night assertion.  The scientists leading this study are world famous:  Robert Moyzis is a professor of biological chemistry at UC Irvine, and Dr. Nora Volkow is a psychiatrist and researcher at the Brookhaven National Laboratory, and also directs the National Institute on Drug Abuse.

This variant gene is part of the dopamine system, which is involved in the transmission of nerve impulses.  It is an integral part of the brain network responsible for attention and reward-driven learning. The DRD4 7R allele essentially weakens dopamine signaling, which then enhances a person’s sensitivity and reactivity to the environment.  This variant is also associated with addiction, and is often called the “novelty-seeking” gene.  When people with this predisposition do not find positive outlets for stimulation and excitement, they get these needs met negatively, as any teacher of a bored ADHD child will tell you!  As Dr. Moyzis said, “People who carry this variant gene seem to be more motivated to pursue social, intellectual and physical activities.” Children with this gene variant need adults who understand their genetic hard-wiring, and who can thus help them properly channel their need for intensity and new stimulation.

Moyzis also pointed out that, “While the genetic variant may not directly influence longevity, it is associated with personality traits that have been shown to be important for living a longer, healthier life. It’s been well documented that the more you’re involved with social and physical activities, the more likely you’ll live longer. It could be as simple as that.” Let’s not forget that being active is crucial for successful aging, and it may delay or deter the advancement of neurodegenerative diseases, such as Alzheimer’s.

Incidentally, prior molecular evolutionary research has shown that this gene variant was present in a high percentage of people during the nomadic out-of-Africa human exodus more than 30,000 years ago.  The people with this gene variant were the ones that said, “Hey, let’s cross the desert.  Maybe there’s something cool on the other side.”

We live today in a largely sedentary, farmer-like society.  The movers, dreamers, and risk-takers of the world struggle to get their needs met, and live up to their full potential.  We need to realize, as a society, that these people hold power to imagine, create, and discover.  We would only be doing ourselves a favor by helping them channel their innate gift for innovation. And maybe, as a result, we would all live happier, healthier, and longer lives!

D. L. Grady, P. K. Thanos, M. M. Corrada, J. C. Barnett, V. Ciobanu, D. Shustarovich, A. Napoli, A. G. Moyzis, D. Grandy, M. Rubinstein, G.-J. Wang, C. H. Kawas, C. Chen, Q. Dong, E. Wang, N. D. Volkow, R. K. Moyzis. DRD4 Genotype Predicts Longevity in Mouse and Human.Journal of Neuroscience, 2013; 33 (1):

At the stroke of eight on the morning of the fire, which had started close to 5:30am, I called Farm Bureau Insurance to alert them to the situation.  My agent, Jeff Danuloff, arrived at the house before 8:30!  That’s what I call customer service.  Standing on the lawn chatting with Jeff, I was still in shock as the fire continued to smolder.  As is my custom under stress, I prattled on without interruption.  As Jeff compassionately listened to my distressed rambling, another man approached the scene.  He had a clear-plastic credential holder that dangled from a multi-colored rope around his neck.  He looked out of place against the backdrop of firemen and the friends of mine who had started to assemble.  I noticed he had pulled up in a shiny red Mustang.  He had a thin face, short, black hair and a finely-trimmed moustache.  He wore jeans, Nike high tops, and an orange pullover with a beige CarHartt, or workman’s, sort of jacket.  Espying his credential holder from across the yard, I made the snap assumption that he was a newspaper reporter coming to get the scoop.  I excused myself from Jeff and bee-lined to this man, eager, I suppose, to retell my story, not to mention the fact that I crave media attention.

“I’m the one you’re looking for,” I greeted him.  “Are you here to interview me?”

“Are you the homeowner?” he asked.

I fancy myself a good and relatively quick judge of character, and I am pretty sensitive to voice quality.  With the first four words out of this man’s mouth, I knew my first impression had been wildly incorrect.  He delivered this question with lazy diction, barely getting out the “r” of homeowner.  I looked down at his credentials:  DAVE GRIBBEL, GOOD NEIGHBOR FIRE RESTORATION.  My friendly demeanor switched on a dime:  “Why are you here?” I confronted him.

“I gotta call that there was a fire and my job is to help the homeowner,” he spit out the seemingly well-rehearsed line.

“Well, I didn’t call you,” I replied, with a hint of contempt, irritation starting to build.

“This is what I do.  People have fires and I show up to help them.”

Not wanting to spend another second with this man, I asked for his card and told him I would call him if I needed him.  This was not enough to get him to leave.

“Sir, I know you are stressed out, but if you don’t do the right thing…”

“I think the man said he would call you,” my friend Doug, who had been close by, decisively interrupted.  “We’ve got your card and we’ll call you if we need you.”

Gribbel looked down at the ground and I am pretty sure he was trying to concoct a potent retort. He seemed frustrated, almost angry.   But he controlled himself, and left my property without incident.  There was a desperation about him, and he not only seemed mad when he left but I also detected what I would describe as dejection, which one would think a true professional would be more adept at concealing.

By late morning, I had started to understand the game in which I was an unwitting player:  fires means money to people like Gribbel.  People like him listen to police scanners and try to arrive first on the scene of catastrophe, hoping to guarantee they are chosen to head up repairs, which can easily reach into hundreds of thousands of dollars.  Any hint of smoke still takes me back to the devastation of that morning, but to Gribbel, and the numerous others who showed up after him, my devastation had the seductive smell of money.

So powerful was the allure of my devastation that Gribbel showed up again in the early afternoon.  “What are you doing back here?” I barked with a menacing scowl.

“I’m not talking to you,” he said with resolve.  “I am here to talk to the homeowner.”

“I am the homeowner, as I already told you.”

“You work for Belfor,” he insisted, like a detective who had uncovered a clever ruse.  “I’m not going for your B.S. anymore.  I need to talk to the homeowner.”

Deep in my entrails I felt a rumbling, like a wild dog who wanted to attack.  I kept my cool, though, focusing on my breath and reflecting before reacting.

“Read the number on that mailbox,” I calmly instructed him.  “3-2-4-8 Woodside Ct.  That’s where I live.”  I pulled out my license, and pointed out the address.  Gribbel paused to take in this new information.  Rather than prudently leaving, he picked up where he had left off after his first visit to my property.

“That Belfor guy was standing right next to you.  I thought you were with Belfor.  You don’t want to go with those guys.  They’ll screw you.  They screw everybody.”

My intentional breathing and self-reflection were not enough to overcome this new onslaught.  “You get the f*** off my property now,” I exploded.  He looked down and I could see that he was close to exploding back at me.  I wanted him to.  Subconsciously, I wanted the opportunity to focus all the rage and negativity that had built up in me that day.  He said nothing, though, and began to walk back to his car.  But every few steps, he would stop, look down to his right, with an indignant pensiveness on his face, just dying to give me a piece of his mind.  He got back to his car, opened the door, but then just stood there, propping himself up with his left arm on top of the open door.

“You’re making a big mistake,” he said, finally finding the courage to point out my apparent stupidity.  “You’re going to regret this.”

Open the floodgates.  When I am really mad, a poetic streak often emerges.  My friend, Doug, found my reaction hilarious and wrote down what I said.  I am grateful he did that.

“You come to my home on a day of destruction and have not one drop of empathy.  You’re not here to help me; you’re here because you want to profit off my suffering.  And you know what, dipshit, with your pathetic people skills, there is zero chance, no, a negative chance, that I would ever let you on my property, let alone allow you in to restore my home.  The next time I see you, or your I’m-a-special-boy red Mustang, I will call the police and have you forcibly removed.  Now get the f*** out of here before I get really mad.”

He looked down again and appeared to be gathering his strength for another round with me.  I preempted him:  “One more word out of your mouth and I lodge a complaint with the Better Business Bureau!”

This induced him to get in his car, where he seemed to sulk for 2-3 minutes, and then burned rubber as he sped out of my subdivision.  I felt as if I had just ended a standoff with a psychopath.  Unfortunately, Gribbel was not even the worst of the lot.  By day’s end, a cast of seventeen shady contractors, repair charlatans, and unscrupulous “public adjusters” had invaded my misery.  Dealing with these vultures was my second baptism by fire that day.

I sat helpless in my new, jet black Ford Fusion hybrid, with my cat hunkered down in the back seat.  The heat was cranked, because I was clad only in a pair of white boxer briefs, and I knew, as well, that the heat would soothe the cat.  Not a half hour into the fire, she was purring on the floor and soon went off to sleep.  Shortly after the fire trucks had arrived, I called several people.  Longtime friends Palmer Stevens and Doug Rutley dutifully showed up within less than a half hour, Doug bearing clothes for me and Palmer wearing a miner’s headlamp and armed with a video camera.  Palmer’s entrance on the scene was somewhat surreal: as the fire raged, he ran around shooting video and taking pictures, which provide a good record of how things transpired.

Fighting the Fire

At this point, my heart continued to race.  My main concern was that the firefighters contain the fire to the garage and breezeway so I would not lose the whole house.  But, almost an hour in, the blaze continued.  One of the problems was that the garage door would not open, preventing quick and easy access to the fire.  Firefighters brought in a massive saw and cut it out, while another crew used ladders to access the garage roof, and cut a whole from above.

Cutting in to the Roof

As the removal of the garage door gave a clear view of the fire, I had a sign of hope:  my Snapper riding lawnmower, a machine I really love to use, was undamaged, and sitting toward the edge of the garage.  I got out of the car and quickly made my way to one of the head honchos:  “My riding mower is right there.  Can you guys get it out?”  Lieutenant Brown, a very compassionate man, turned to me with an empathetic frown and replied, “Mr. Roberts, we are not to that stage of the process.  This is an active scene and we’re still trying to control this fire.”  Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, a loud boom and a flash of fire erupted in the front of the garage; the gas can next to my 13.5-horsepower Snapper exploded, and my beloved mower was essentially toast.

Snapper is Toast

Guilt rushed through me the moment the gas can exploded, and I decided to let these men do their job.  Attachment to my possessions could have put a fireman’s life in peril!  So many thoughts and feelings teemed within me.  I could not contain them.  I got back in my car and asked my friend, Doug, to come with me.  He just let me talk things out, listening to whatever ramblings left my mouth.  This helped to calm down.

I had an overwhelming desire to do something, but there was really nothing I could do, and I just seemed to be getting in the way.  I am a man of action, but on this day I was a victim.  I hate uttering that word, but it is the truth.  Realizing that the lawnmower could not be saved drove home the severity of the situation.  I was in danger of losing everything, and I was completely powerless to prevent that from happening.

A few minutes went by and they began to move  the fire trucks, which I thought was a good sign.  As the large hook-and-ladder truck rumbled up my street, however, I realized that the exact opposite was true.  ”Mr. Roberts,” Lieutenant Brown beckoned me, “the attic between the garage and the house is packed with stuff and that area is becoming the real fire.”  The hook-and-ladder Leviathan was moved into place so that its hose could bombard the attic with a constant flow of water, much of which made its way to the lower level of my house.

They Brought in the Big Gun

I later learned that while this move prevented the whole house from burning down, it was also responsible for sending massive amounts of smoke and soot into the main house.  One of the firefighters told me I could be back in the house in a month or two, but closer inspection put that figure at 6 months or more.  The trouble is that the whole house smells like smoke, so much so that 3-4 minutes is about as long as I can take without a mask.  I hope to be back in by Easter.

After the first day, I had a lot of data to synthesize, needed to find a place to stay, figure out lodgings for my cat, Ms. Kitaline Kitt-Kitt, and begin to let my new life soak in.  I will go into Day 2 in the next blog posting.  I really welcome comments, and am open to provide more detail on any point you find interesting.

I woke up at 5:30 in the morning on September 19, 2012.  A strange smell had invaded my slumber.  I instantly knew a fire was alive somewhere, but there was no smoke in the house.  Nevertheless, I searched my entire home, paying special attention to the furnace room; I found nothing to suggest a fire.  The smoke detectors were all silent, and the odor was strongest upstairs, so I made a more thorough search of the bedrooms, but found no sign of burning.  With persisting unease, I made my way back to bed, and cuddled up with my cat, whose completely calm demeanor reassured me that all was well.  “Someone in the neighborhood must be trying to combat the unseasonable cold with a fire,” I told myself.  “That’s why the smell is upstairs because the window fan is bringing in outside air.”

In spite of the chill outside, I ran my window fan that night because I find the white noise soothing.  This decision may well have saved my life.  Not seconds after I plopped back in bed, the smell grew stronger, and the fan inexplicably stopped.  I leaped to my feet, looked out my bedroom window, across the roof of the garage and noticed a faint glow from the far corner.  Electric charges from my reptilian brain pulsed through every interstitial space of my body.  I scooped up the cat, grabbed my phone and car keys and bolted through the hall.  Before I headed down the half-flight of stairs and out the front door, I shut the doors to two bedrooms.  I still don’t know why I did that, but those two rooms ended up getting the least amount of smoke damage.  In only my boxer shorts, I bounded down the stairs and out the door, and ran to my car, which luckily, and out of laziness, I had not parked in the garage.  I put the cat in the car and used all my powers of will to steady my hands enough to dial 911.  I had only recently gotten that Droid phone, and it took me a few seconds to get through the screens to be able to place the call.  It was really a monumental effort to steady my hands.  Nervous energy coursed through me.  “Please state the nature of the emergency,” the woman on the other end of the line robotically uttered.

“My house is burning down.  Get them out here now.”

She assured me that she was going to send the fire department and began probing me for information.  I don’t remember specifically what she asked.  I hung up the phone and instantly had an urge to do something.   I unlocked the side door so that firemen had easy access, and went in, only to see that the smoke was coming into the house.  I still wanted to go in and try to pour water on the fire, but I resisted and stayed back.  At that moment, I noticed that behind the garage, where the fire had started, something exploded, and the flames reached perhaps twenty feet upwards, followed by the power line into the house arcing repeatedly.  “Stay away,” I told myself, even though I really wanted to be the hero and put out the blaze before the fire trucks arrived.  But no one had arrived, and the fire station was only a half mile away.  It seemed like at least five minutes had passed.  I called 911 again.  “Where are they? I shouted with rage.  “My f***ing house is burning down.  It’s moving from the garage and toward my house and if they don’t get here there’ll be nothing left.”

“Calm down, sir.  Your call was routed to Troy because you live on the border, but we just routed it back to Bloomfield.” [1]

“I gave you my address.  Oh my God.  My house is burning down.  Get them out here!”

“Sir, they are on the way.”

I hung up the phone, got in my car and drove over to the fire station.  I beeped the horn, and yelled, “Fellas, follow me; the fire’s this way!”  The fire house door was actually opening at this point, and they were swinging into action.  Those two fire trucks and eight or nine others eventually made their way to my house.  I parked on the front lawn and watched them do their amazing work.

1.  I live on the border of Troy and Bloomfield Township.  A cellphone tower in Troy picked up my call which was then routed to Troy.  This is a glitch that needs to be worked out.  I don’t blame the 911 operator, nor the fire departments in Troy and Bloomfield Township.  However, 911 operators need to be trained in this potential danger.

In the eHow videos below, I give you some important steps to follow both in starting things off on the right foot, and in repairing the interpersonal dynamic. As in all relationships, it does take two to Tango, so you have to approach the problem from the teacher’s perspective as well as that of the student.  This eHow video gives you tips on how to start off the school year right.

Children, however, are not always forthcoming about how things are going in school, and with 30-40 students in some classroom, teachers often wait until conferences before communicating.  You have to be prepared, therefore, for the worst.  This next eHow video gives you some tips on how to cultivate a productive mindset that takes both sides of the problem into account.

These two videos represent merely a start.  What I’d like you to take away from this article, and these videos, is the importance of fostering a positive connection with your child’s teacher.  It can pay huge dividends down the road.

News outlets focus on sensational and outlandish stories, like the 16-hour-a-day World of Warcraft devotees, or death from deep vein thrombosis after a 40-hour gaming binge.  The more troubling reality, however, is that the average American child spends close to five hours a day in front of a screen.  Excessive screen time correlates with obesity, attention issues, sleep troubles, poor performance in school, and social issues. America’s board rooms are even starting to become aware that employees’ screen habits can hurt the bottom line.  In a series of interviews with executives for a recent article in the New York Times, the consensus was “that the lure of constant stimulation — the pervasive demand of pings, rings and updates — is creating a profound physical craving that can hurt productivity and personal interactions.”  Realizing the potential for harm, many of the giants of Silicon Valley have begun encouraging mindfulness classes, exercise programs, and simply providing ideas to balance and integrate screen time in healthier ways. It is of course a great irony that many of the developers of these alluring cyber amusements are now realizing the potential downside.  The rest of society lags far behind, however.

While it is heartening that companies like Facebook, Zynga, Microsoft, and eBay have begun to address this problem within their own organizations, I wish they would take some responsibility in the wider world.  The Times article also pointed out that many companies view their activities through the “Fast-food Paradigm,” that while they may provide cyber “junk food,” they are not responsible for the choices people make.

As I have in the past, I call on the companies who profit from technology to spend more resources in public service campaigns to alert citizens to the dangers of excessive use of technology.  Parents need to understand age appropriate levels of screen time, and must be educated on how to properly guide their children, so that lives do not get swallowed up by the screen.  Even mental health professionals lack basic information needed to recognize cyber-related problems.  The solution lies not in eliminating these technologies, but rather in a drastic increase in awareness of how to use them responsibly.

Video games, smart phones, social networking, the Internet, and computers are powerful tools.  People adept with these technologies can use them to advance and succeed.  Controlling predator drones and monitoring battlefield activity are now achieved through video-game-like interfaces.  Facebook and Twitter are essential to sales and marketing.  Smart phones can radically increase worker productivity.  People who play moderate amounts of video games increase visual-spatial acuity and hand-eye coordination.  But we need much more consciousness about how to benefit from these technologies without diminishing our social skills.  We need more research to understand how increasing “screen dependence” is rewiring our brains.  We need to learn to use the offerings of the cyber world to increase our opportunities for fulfillment, not restrict them.

Phil, who was called “motor mouth” in first grade, did not immediately share his wife’s dire concern.  “Did he have any hurricanes?” Phil asked with a chuckle.

“You never take our son seriously.  He’s already starting to feel bad about himself.  I told you he needed more discipline.  He just doesn’t know how to follow the rules, and that’s your fault.”

“Maybe he’s just bored.” Phil said, his humor starting to turn to irritation.  “You want him to be a little robot of conformity, but that’s not our son.  He’s different.  No, he’s unique.  He has a
dress-up corner in the basement and puts on plays for his family.  He does funny voices, and at 5-years old does a great British accent.  Yes, he has trouble sitting still, but can play army men by himself in the basement for hours at at time.  I think he’s gifted, and yes, he is a tornado of creativity.”

“But we’re not teaching him how to fit in,” Becca said plaintively.  “That’s one of our main jobs as parents,” she continued.

“No, it isn’t.  Our main job is to support and nurture him to be true to himself.”

This vignette is a true story.  Phil and Becca are friends of mine and they came to me for my opinion and advice.  While my sympathies obviously lie with Phil, especially since Connor is a lot like me, I understand Becca’s position.  These negative, school-generated messages will take root in him, sprouting self-doubt, self-sabotage, and slowly marginalizing Connor at school, and maybe beyond.  Becca is right to be afraid.

It was only at the end of the school year that I learned of their predicament.  I have made a few recommendations for this upcoming school year.  First off all, I will be meeting with Connor’s teacher and educating her about ADHD in general and Connor specifically.  I will inform her of the incredible power she has, a power that could turn a creative mind into a force for innovation and positive change. Conversely, I will be compelled to share with her the destruction to his sense of self-efficacy that her reactions could cause.  I will certainly educate her on the ADHD brain in the hope that she will not take Connor’s distracting behaviors personally, and that she will understand the need to use creative means to fully engage him.  I am also going to ask her to use a new technique.  I will give her several CDs that play a chime at irregular intervals.  With this device, she will instruct the class that the chime is a signal to take a few seconds to make sure that “you’re on task” and behaving according to expectations.  There are several CDs with the chime played at different intervals.  This method is most effective when no one knows exactly when it’s coming.  Simple modifications like this not only help ADHD students; they help the whole class.  I am always on the lookout for teaching  methods that allow teachers to more effectively reach all students.  With so many students, they really need to use their energies as effectively as possible.  The chime method does that and also decreases the potential for ADHD students to feel “different” and thus marginalized.

However, in Connor’s case, the boy is different and his parents and future teachers need to continually find ways to celebrate that fact. I see him as an actor, artist, or even social activist.  He has an uncommonly developed sense of justice and fairness.  With proper guidance and positive messages about himself, Connor is one of those ADHD movers who can go on to change the world.  These early years are crucial along that path.  Frederick Douglass said, “It is easier to raise strong children than to fix broken adults.”

We engage the boys in intense, adventure-oriented activities throughout the day.  We play games like sharks and minnows, capture the flag, kick ball, flag football, and go on frequent scavenger hunts and team-building exercises.  The boys are reminded that every activity affords them an opportunity for reward.  It is astonishing to see how weaving reward into the fabric of every activity and decision creates behavioral consciousness, a certainty that every action is an opportunity to get something good.  This is a crucial chasm that we are bridging because ADHD people do not respond the same way to rewards as non-ADHD people.  ADHDers, especially children, generally choose a small, but immediate, short-term reward over a larger long-term one.  So, sitting in class and being attentive does lead to the long-term reward of higher grades, but telling a joke and making classmates laugh leads to immediate attention, reward, some of which is invariably negative.  The ADHD child will usually follow the latter path.  This camp fills in the gap by giving an immediate reward for behaviors that are generally rewarded only in the long term.  By repeating this over the duration of the camp, and encouraging family members to follow suit, these behaviors become more firmly rooted.  We also offer monthly follow-up outings throughout the school year so that the learning takes hold and continues to blossom.

ADHD people learn differently.  This camp, which conceptualizes challenges in life as our “Dragons,” offers a learning system that works for ADHDers.  These children are not yelled at, shushed constantly, or marginalized, as they often are in school.  They realize they are capable of more successfully controlling their behavior.  This discovery makes them feel more confident and able to take on the challenges of school and life.  The lesson I take from this camp is that we can craft systems and structures that take into account the realities of the ADHD brain. We can help them succeed in a way that is in line with their true nature, not against it.

The camp is in its third year and was started by myself and Drew Yanke, a psychologist in private practice who brings enormous passion, playfulness, and power to the camps. He is a white hot champion of children who learn differently.  His wife, Kimber Bishop-Yanke, has been a source of inspiration, organization, and stability. Kimber is a powerful teacher and innovator in her own right, having created numerous self-esteem building workshops and camps for children, along with bully proofing.  I thank both Drew and Kimber for bringing this vision into reality and serving ADHD children.  We would like to take this camp to different areas and are open to partnerships and volunteers.  One last point, every one of our staffers also has ADHD.  They come out feeling more empowered about their own abilities as well.

Incidentally, a lot of the ideas we employ at the camp can be found in my recently released book. Here is the latest review.

What’s interesting is that the ADHD teens who were administered this self-control test also showed difficulties with controlling impulses, but their patterns of brain activation were quite distinct. The teens with ADHD exhibited differences in the bilateral frontal lobe and the basal ganglia, both of which are known to play a significant role in ADHD symptomology. So the same end behavior, impulsivity, appears to be linked to different parts of the brain.

The reason this study is important is that ADHD people have a significantly increased risk for substance abuse. The data from this research effort strongly suggest that atypical functioning of certain cerebral networks, those involved in impulse control, underlies addiction.  But impulsivity in addiction, as opposed to ADHD, appears to be a different animal. The study did not examine ADHD people who also were substance abusers. What will be interesting to see is if ADHD people with substance issues look more cerebrally similar to the ADHD group or to the substance abuse group.

Overall, this study shows us that the brain is an incredibly complex organ that we are just beginning to understand. Also, we see that impulse control does not always indicate the presence of ADHD. While it is easy to judge others who show what appears to be a lack of “willpower,” this study points to the underlying biology that is involved, and thus invites us to consider addiction as a bona fide disease.

With ADHD and addiction, many people who are not afflicted presume that a lack of willpower is to blame. “I know when to stop,” they will righteously declare. “They just need to learn their limits.” This scientific information gives us reason to pause and reflect, and perhaps reevaluate how we view both ADHD and addiction, and to consider having more compassion for people who deal with these challenging conditions. So many people presume expertise when dealing with mental health conditions. If you really want to understand mental health, go to school on the brain. I recommend the following books to help you in that endeavor:
1.  Howard, P. (2007). The Owner’s Manual for the Brain. Austin, TX: Bard Press.
2.  Nigg, J. (2006). What Causes ADHD?: Understanding What Goes Wrong and Why. New York: Guilford Press.
3.  Stoehr, James D. 2006. The Neurobiology of Addiction. 1st ed. Philadelphia: Chelsea House.

How can we help ADD-ers become engaged with non-screen activities?
That is a long answer, and much of it ties in to the list of common-sense treatments for ADD that the experts have drawn up for us. We need to take care of our whole selves, we always hear. Screen time takes care of well, our need for retreat, and helps eye-hand coordination. Research shows little more than that for the positives. As ADD-ers we know we need train our brain to crave down time, to insert physical activity into our day, to take medication, supplements, or both. The “pull” of TV, movies, video games, online activities, and cell phones is especially strong for ADD-ers, because it is the novelty and newness factor is ever-present. You can switch channels in TV, fast forward in movies, switch levels in video games, and switch entire websites on the internet. Oh yes, and text several people at a time on phones. So for those of us who dread tedium or slower pacing, screens are very enticing.

What is a screen addiction?

A screen addiction is characterized by insatiability and also an inability to gauge your time spent online, or in front of a particular game or program. Screen addiction means that use of the screens are mood-altering and the addict is dependent on it—that they have an anxiety or identity crisis (no matter how small)when they try to stop using screens for a day or two.

How does screen addiction impact learning?
We take in a lot every moment through the eyes, more than more than a few decades ago, which is only part of how we learn. Kids in school in their average day take in a lot visually and auditorally but to really learn something we need more. Screens cannot take us there. Also, the rate in which kids in school process what is coming in needs to vary in pacing or rate.  Varied rates of processing are necessary because we are all individuals. Some kids need fast/slow/average pace, and some need all of that, with repeated exposure, depending on their own brain make-up, or the subject being learned.

Neurologically, how are we wired to learn?
The three ways we learn are:
Visual: through the eyes
Auditory: via the ears
Kinesthetic: through the skin, this includes touch, internal sensations, and hands-on experience.
As a culture we are not encouraging kinesthetic learning as much as we could be. A child who is watching the world of today sees people interacting with screens and concludes that is how to communicate, learn and to entertain oneself.

How do screens hijack the learning process?
Often screens with video games, TV shows, or movies, and many educational websites or software, have very fast moving images. The speed of the images does not mirror the pace that our human brains are wired to move or process. In the same way that pornography doesn’t mirror the natural pace of a relationship, video games do not mirror the natural pace of engaging with the world or learning something deeply. So then the child or adult addicted to screens grows to expect that pace to be how off screen life responds to them.

Children and teenagers can become frustrated with the steps and time required to develop mastery. They will ask “can’t I just go to another game?” when playing an educational game that requires mastering a subset of skills before moving on. In a video game you can always start over and often you are able to go to a level you are comfortable. There are even “cheat codes” that can be used to “fake” mastery.

Can you talk about frustration tolerance and screen addiction?
For adults, frustration tolerance is required for creating a personal change. For children, it’s required when learning a new social or academic skill. Frustration tolerance is a willingness to have small, micro failures or frustrations while keeping an end goal in mind. Kids and adults without long term gratification skills (AKA Frustration Tolerance) expect things to be instantaneous. They also lack “gray area” thinking and will assign rigid categories to themselves and others such as smart/dumb and then not want to keep going with effort once they have put themselves in these boxes.  I’ve noticed that my clients who have screen addictions don’t take real interpersonal risks.  Right, because in real life there is no “reset” button.

So what do you suggest?
We are in a world of screens so we don’t want to pretend they don’t exist. I suggest that parents have a good mix: provide an equivalent amount of face to face time that matches the screen time your children have. A four hour play date equals four hours of screen time, on the weekend. And I always suggest no video games during the school week. That honors the fact that school and homework are the child’s “job” and the weekend is their time off, so to speak. Also it is harder to get addicted when you have five days without it.

Research shows that kids learn best when screen exposure is short. An enormous part of learning, in both reading and in doing, from sports to medical school, involves making pictures in your head. Apraxia, an uncommon learning disability, and related disorders of language comprehension, is becoming more common because the part of the brain that creates images is “getting less exercise” in screen culture.

Visual processing (seeing and making sense of images) is different than generating (creating one’s own image based on imagination) processing. We know this from brain imaging research. So with screen over-use, that part of the brain is not going to the gym.

If we want to become an expert in anything or to feel we have a special skill, then we need to give our attention and a slower pace to that learning process. Screens are a tool in being a learner. They cannot substitute for mentors, concentrated time, or kinesthetic learning.

Kendra Wagner is a learning specialist in private practice in North Seattle, who primarily teaches children reading, writing, and thinking skills. She also consults in schools and advocates for children. Her specialty in ADD and Dyslexia grew out of her work in schools as a reading specialist and consultant, when she saw so many students being mislabeled, mistreated, and mis-instructed. She has a particular interest in how the brain develops, learns, and adapts to family and school environments.