Children’s mental health pays the price for excessive screen time

As a practising psychologist I have had countless conversations with colleagues including psychologists, psychiatrists and general practitioners about the growing crisis in children’s mental health. Again and again, one issue rises to the top of every discussion: excessive screen time.

When I decided to study psychology, I never imagined that I would one day speak about screen use almost every single day. Yet here we are. It has become one of the most urgent and unsettling issues I encounter in my consulting room.

We are now seeing children who spend more hours on screens than they do sleeping. It is little wonder that so many struggle with fatigue, fall behind academically, and find real-world interaction confusing and overwhelming. Their attention, emotions and sense of identity are being shaped by a digital world that rewards comparison, instant gratification and constant performance.

As children grow older, these patterns only deepen. Many teenagers are now diagnosing themselves with conditions they have discovered on social media. In a developmental phase defined by identity exploration, it has become common to seek belonging through a diagnosis. They are not being dramatic; they are only trying to make sense of themselves in a world that feels overstimulated, disconnected and relentlessly demanding.

Another serious concern is the sharp rise in autism spectrum diagnoses over the past years. Of course there are children who genuinely meet the diagnostic criteria and who need proper assessment and support. But we are also seeing a pattern where children with extremely high screen exposure begin to show symptoms that resemble autistic traits: limited eye contact, flat affect, reduced reciprocal conversation, poor frustration tolerance and social withdrawal.

Some researchers have started referring to this as “virtual autism,” describing autism-like symptoms that appear to be linked to excessive screen exposure in early development. If you think about it, it makes sense. When a developing brain spends its formative years engaging mostly with screens rather than with people, social communication and emotional attunement will inevitably be affected. This is not true autism, but the way the child eventually functions can look very similar. It is heartbreaking to know how preventable some of this may be.

What is even more concerning is that screen overuse does not only create new problems but also worsens existing ones. Anxiety, depression, attention difficulties, irritability and social withdrawal all increase when a child’s nervous system is constantly flooded by stimulation that the human brain was never designed to handle.

It is not natural for a child to spend seven hours at school trying to focus, only to come home and continue staring at a screen for the rest of the day. This is not a normal activity for a developing mind. It is not natural for children to sit still for hours scrolling through content that hijacks their attention and emotions. Our brains were built for movement, touch, conversation and human connection, not for the endless dopamine loop of screens.

Schools, often without realising it, have become part of the problem. Homework is now posted on digital platforms. Class notices arrive on learners’ phones and parents are directed to WhatsApp groups for updates.

What happened to the homework book? What happened to sending a note home or allowing a child to take responsibility by writing something down? Children should be allowed to disconnect once the school day is over. Home time should mean family time, a time to rest, talk, play, eat together and simply be. Yet the constant expectation to stay connected has blurred every boundary between school and home life.

I want to make a friendly but urgent request to all parents: start questioning this. Talk to your schools. Make appointments with the school principal, the grade head or the school counsellor. Raise the issue in parent meetings and encourage open discussion. Ask whether homework and notices can once again be written in a book or sent directly to parents. Ask if there are ways to reduce the expectation that children must be online after school hours. We need to stand together and protect what truly matters.

Every parent also has a duty. While schools play an important role, change begins at home. Families need to set boundaries for device use and decide when screens are put away so that rest, presence and connection can take priority again. It is not easy, and many parents feel trapped in a system that demands digital participation, but we still have a responsibility for how we raise our children.

I also want to appeal to the Department of Education to take this issue seriously. Schools are following broader digital trends, but clear guidance is needed from the top. We need policies that help schools limit unnecessary screen use, encourage offline learning and restore balance in the way information is shared with learners and families.

The responsibility to protect our children’s wellbeing cannot fall only on parents and teachers; it must be a collective effort supported by leadership that recognises the urgency of this problem.

This is not about being anti-technology. It is about restoring balance. It is about helping our children develop the skills and the inner calm that screens have begun to erode: focus, empathy, curiosity, imagination, patience and rest.

Our children’s mental health is paying the price for a system that has gone too far. We, as adults, have the power to change it. Let us not reach a day when our children look back and wonder why we stood by while their childhoods disappeared behind screens. Let us, South Africans, be the change. We do not need to wait for first world countries to lead the way. The change can start here. We can be the ones who act now, who set the example, who put our children first.

If we want a generation that is emotionally healthy, curious and deeply engaged with life, we must give them back what technology has quietly taken away: their childhood.

*The author chose to remain anonymous due to the sensitive nature relating to working with children