[This is a post drawing on my the talk I gave at the NAIS annual conference.]

We use the term "distraction" in two broad ways. Both involve situations in which our attention should be directed on one thing, but instead is directed on something else. This usually happens for seconds or seconds: we can be distracted from traffic by a text message, or distracted from finishing tomorrow's homework by a funny IM conversation.

It can also happen for years: we speak of being "distracted" from pursuing careers by a messy divorce, or being distracted from pursuing our art by the need to earn a living. At whatever scale, though, this sort of distraction happens when there's something that we SHOULD be paying attention, and something we pay attention to INSTEAD.

These days we also talk about distraction as a perpetual state, one in which constant interruptions and emergencies keep us from being able to focus on any one thing for long. No matter which way we use it, though, there's an important moral judgment that comes with the use of the term. As philosopher Damon Young puts it, "distraction is more than too many stimuli, or too little attention."

It is actually a matter of value – to be distracted is to be torn away from what is worthwhile in life…. [W]hat is most worthwhile is freedom: not simply rights or legal liberties, but the capacity to patiently, creatively craft one’s own life.

For CEOs, whose days may be sliced into five minute-long appointments, distraction is part of the job; ER doctors likewise have little ability to focus on any single thing, but instead have to deal with whatever emergencies come through the door.

For students, though, attention is a valuable thing: unless you have a natural talent for a subject, you can't become competent in it if you don't focus.

You can't master ANY subject if you don't know HOW to focus. Schools today now have to confront not just the ancient and familiar problem of getting students who'd rather be playing outside to concentrate instead on Euclid's theorems or "The Lottery;" they have to deal with students who find it hard to concentrate on anything at all.

Growing up in world that offers many opportunities to be distracted, and many competitors for their attention, they've had fewer chances to learn the effortful focus necessary to memorize Latin verbs or the fifty U.S. state capitals, or even experience the effortless concentration of losing themselves in a great book, or watching a movie with rapt attention.

Social media and gaming companies have commoditized distraction: they've learned how to use design, defaults, and social expectations to keep users watching, playing and posting. (I'll give some examples in the next post.)

the place I spent many distracted hours in my youth

What this means is that the child who is distracted isn't just stupid or lacking in self-discipline. They're the target of companies that have turned distraction into entertainment and social obligation. Distraction is evolving from a personal failing into a social disease.

This is not to say that kids (or their parents, or teachers for that matter) have no chance against weapons of mass distraction, or that the mix of behavioral economics, neuromarketing, and design that media and game companies can deploy. My book The Distraction Addiction explains how we can reclaim our attention, repair our relationships with information technologies, and rebuild our extended minds.

The problem of high-tech distraction doesn't start only with us, but it does end with us.

Ultimately, we all have a choice about how we develop and direct our attention. But it's a lot easier to exercise that choice in an environment that supports it. This is why school-wide campaigns to help students become mor emindful, or to turn off their devices for a few days, can be powerful– and indeed, are absolutely essential.