Everyone is worrying about phones in schools. They are a powerful distraction, like slot machines for gamblers, or Cheetos for people addicted to enriched cornmeal and the color orange.

If you’d been in a high school lately, you would have noticed that phones come out during any free moment. A sociologist might call it the Phone Staring Effect. At a lunch table there are six teens and six phones, and direct eye contact is on the wane. 

Phone checking is pervasive; teachers play whack-a-mole with students sneaking peeks at devices under desks. Mostly they are not looking up calculus tips or biographies of Jane Austen. 

So it's understandable that educators, along with professional worriers — journalists, critics, know-it-alls and sourpusses — are fretting about phones in schools. It’s a legitimate issue. I wish I could say I have the answer but I don’t. Does holding a virtual library in the palm of your hand make you a functional genius, or leave you with the attention span of a gnat?

I hope I am not trending toward Team Gnat.

Hardly anyone can sit and stare into space anymore. Experts say dreamily gazing out a window primes the brain for creativity. You can take it too far, of course — the boss may eventually notice. But it’s a good thing to give the mind a break. Or you can read about celebrities. If any Kardashian is pregnant, I want to be among the first million to know.

Here in West Lebanon, I noticed a while ago that parents were looking at phones while pushing strollers. “They should be talking to that toddler,’’ I whisper to myself. In my mind I send a hearty tsk-tsk in their direction. Of late I see hired dog walkers checking their phone while three or four canines meander hither and yon with their leashes. They are tempting fate. 

To explore phone attachment I recently tried something you might see on YouTube, where people do extraordinary things and report how it went. They also do ordinary things and cannot keep it to themselves. 

Such videos have titles like “I Walked 10,000 Steps a Day for Seven Days and This is What Happened.” I think, yeah, I know what happened. You walked 70,000 steps. 

But there is more to it, I guess. It’s content. Everything is content.

Since the Valley News doesn’t have excess video capacity (especially the print version), I’ll give a written summary of my own YouTube-style experiment. Here goes: “I Put My Phone Away for 10 Minutes and This Is What I Learned.”

Minute 1: Oh, no. Where did I put the phone? I should have checked the weather report one more time before this started, because I don’t remember what it said 20 minutes ago.

Minute 2: Was that little ding from my phone? Was it just another scam job offer, or is my daughter being attacked by crocodiles and needs me right away? Would she really text me if surrounded by crocodiles? Can she hold on for eight more minutes?

Minute 3: How did the Red Sox do last night? I guess I’ll just have to wait. They probably lost. But maybe they won. No, they probably lost. Why are my fingers twitching a bit?

Minute 4: Did Adlai Stevenson run twice against Dwight Eisenhower? Did New Hampshire or Vermont support him? Is there anyone around I could ask? It’s probably just as well that we didn’t name our son Adlai. Why am I thinking about Adlai Stevenson?

Minute 5: Any new poll results? Is Harris ahead by another point or two? My fingers are still twitching and my foot is nervously tapping. 

Minute 6: What time is it? I think I checked 25 times already today. Still, I’d like to know what time it is now. I think that clock over there is off. What if I’m late, or early? Does anybody really know what time it is?

Minute 7: Perhaps if I did the dishes it would keep my hands busy. Yeah, that will help. Won’t Dede be surprised. 

Minute 8: Don’t they use Dawn dish soap to clean birds after oil spills? I feel I need to know right now. If I wait two more minutes, I’ll forget the question.

Minute 9: I could hold my phone but not hit the “on” button. That would still count, I think. I’ll just look at the case, really.

Minute 10: Almost made it to 10. My eye developed a nervous tic and I had to look that up. Turns out it’s probably not fatal, but I couldn’t wait. There are some things you have to know instantly: matters of life and death, sports and Adlai Stevenson.

I’m sure you understand.

Dan Mackie lives in West Lebanon. He can be reached at dan.mackie@yahoo.com.