What a brilliant idea

One of the great benefits of being an English professor is that I get carte blanche to be as much of a luddite as I want. There is very little about this job that forces technology on you. I use it, of course—I love my laptop and all of the benefits of online databases for research, to say nothing of doing library searches from my office so I know whether I even need to walk the few hundred feet to enter the stacks. And I find email the easiest way to communicate with students outside of class and office hours.

On the other hand, I resisted getting a cell phone until the first time I drove from St. John's to Ontario, largely as a contingency against breaking down on a desolate stretch of the TCH. I got the cheapest phone with the most minimal plan however, for the simple reason that I never use it. In fact, its principal function is to serve as my timepiece, as my watch was stolen out of the gym change room a year ago, and I haven't bothered to buy a new one.

This sort of aberrant behaviour puts me firmly in the minority these days, I know—and I am never more aware of that fact than on the numerous times a week (sometimes a day) when someone to whom I'm speaking suddenly retrieves their phone from their pocket to read an incoming text.

While I have adopted Facebook and instant messaging on my computer, texting and tweeting remains beyond me. I suspect that this might be one of those things that would change entirely were I to get a Blackberry or iPhone, but for the moment I remain a cheerful and resolute non-texter. And like all selective luddites, I tend toward high levels of irritation when someone interrupts a conversation with me to text someone or, even worse, answer their phone and proceed to have a lengthy conversation. But then, I've always been someone who gets similarly irritated when I am over at someone's house and they do the same thing with their home phone. When I have people over, I either get off the phone quickly or let it go to message.

Seriously. I've never understood why phone conversations trump actual people's presence.

A friend of mine conducted an experiment one Christmas. He was buying someone some perfume as a gift, and the lineup at the cash was huge. So he called the store, got put through to the fragrances department, and asked to purchase the perfume in question over the phone with his credit card. The cashier who answered him interrupted her dealings with her current customer, and rang in his sale. My friend then went and did some more shopping, and fifteen minutes later walked up to the cash, ignoring the line, and said "Hi—I called about the perfume?" He got his package and walked out of the store, noting that the person who was at the end of the line when he made the call still had not been served.

Now, to be fair, I don't know how the cashier might have acted differently, though if it had been me I think I would have at least put my friend on hold until I could finish with the person I was dealing with.

At any rate, my luddite hackles get raised most frequently these days when I see students texting in class. Some are able to be discreet, but most don't really seem to care one way or another—and it is common enough that calling every student out for doing it becomes a little disruptive, and I start to feel shrill.

Which is why this article in Slate magazine seems to me to be an excellent compromise. One of the problems with snowballing technology is that social conventions and etiquette takes time to catch up. What is proper etiquette for texting? The Slate article seems to me to be eminently reasonable in suggesting that "If you're in a situation where you'd excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, you should also excuse yourself before reaching for your phone. Otherwise, go ahead without asking. Either way, don't play with your phone longer than you'd stay in the bathroom." Similarly, if you find yourself in a movie theatre or a classroom and you absolutely need to send or receive a text, leave the room. I have what I think is a pretty reasonable standard for classroom behaviour, which is that I consider my students adults (which, of course, they are); you can come and go from my classroom as you please if you need to use the washroom. In the same vein, if students are whispering to each other, I encourage them to go find somewhere in the hallway to have their conversation; if they are yawning hugely or falling asleep, I suggest that they might go buy a coffee. In the end, my students are paying for the privilege to be there, so I don't begrudge them the freedom to walk out. I do however get upset if their behaviour potentially distracts or bothers other tuition-paying students … and from what I've gleaned from a surprising number of students, texting in-class pisses off more people in the classroom than me.