One unusually good Thursday morning, I approached a student I thought was a former coworker. Tapping on his shoulder, I asked his name. However, met with the harsh response of him scoffing that he has a girlfriend, I realized that he thought I had asked if he was “taken.” The realization hit as he turned slowly to reveal the AirPod in his ear, the barrier for our seemingly simple conversation.
Please don’t kill the dignity of innocent students, and take your earbuds out.
When’s the last time that you had a spontaneous conversation? When’s the last time that you didn’t cling to your phone in the habit of avoiding potentially socially awkward interactions?
Personally, these small interactions are what fuel my day, especially at school. Maybe that’s just the gossiping teenage girl in me, but at the dinner table, I’d rather talk about the seemingly unimportant detail of the janitor’s yorkie than the fact I blasted music in the car to shake off my bad school day.
Whether it’s the avoidance of surface-level small talk or the need for constant stimulation, the hallways of Summit High School are an abyss of AirPods—and for those who are performative about their music consumption (including myself), wired earbuds.
However, one monotonous morning of mine, taking my earbuds out in Looney Bean took me on an unexpected journey through the overheard. I got to hear a mommy and me group meet for the first time, parents surprising their daughter in attendance at the University of Oregon by moving to Bend without her knowledge and a gang of bagpipers. My plan that morning was to journal solo in hopes of feeling a little more alive, yet simply reconnecting to the noises of life proved much more meaningful.
If simply overhearing conversations provided such inspiration to truly live, imagine how rewarding an actual face-to-face conversation could be. It may seem small, but I encourage you to look up from your phone in the hallways and just ask how someone’s day has been.
But if this scares you, please, don’t blame yourself for your fear of human interaction. In the big ol’ year of 2025, this generation has been raised on technology and the immediate dopamine it delivers. Bouncing from dull class to dull class, students crave the stimulation from music, which was missing in the 65 minutes of academic lockdown.
Yet, human interactions are what fill our lives with meaning, not the bone-rattling bass of rap in one ear.
Summit AP Psychology and Modern World History teacher Emily Tompkins explains the importance of “those little connections that make us human together,” that “maintain human kindness.”
As we get into the endless weeks of school, I encourage you to unplug from their music and instead connect to others.
