Jonathan Haidt has made the case for reducing screen time, focused mostly on mental health impacts. Martin West argues that getting kids off their devices could boost their learning, as well: “Coupled with greater accountability around student achievement, it may be the single most important thing we can do to help our kids learn.”

But how? Haidt favors bans. Bell-to-bell bans on phones in school might well reduce screen time from 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. It’s unproven, but we think Haidt is right there.

But do bans reduce screen time from 3 p.m. to 3 a.m.? Haidt claims they do. He’s bullish on Australia’s December 2025 law banning social media accounts for children under 16. Lots of TikTok accounts were shut down. But VPN downloads surged, and many teens switched to other platforms. Will screen time drop? We’re not sure.

We wonder if there is a better approach: Don’t just fight the bad. Massively expand access to the good.

The most reliable competitors to screen time are absorbing, real-world activities: sports, the performing arts, robotics teams, debate leagues, apprenticeships. The goal shouldn’t be merely to reduce hours on a device. It should be to grab languishing teens—who we estimate comprise 40 percent of Americans in that age group—and help them solve “first-mile” problems to join their flourishing, already-off-the-couch peers.

That takes two things: money and smarts. Start with money.

Beginning in 2027, Education Freedom Accounts backed by federal tax credits will come online. These accounts were championed by President Trump and are popular with school choice supporters. The basic idea is simple and attractive: In states that opt to participate, taxpayers will receive dollar-for-dollar credits of up to $1,700 for donating to non-profit organizations that fund student opportunity. Everyone agrees most of this money will be used for private-school tuition.

But right now, a consequential fight is happening quietly inside the U.S. Department of the Treasury over how broad the eligible expenses from these accounts should be.

One camp favors a broad definition of educational benefit. Let the funds support not only the 8 a.m.-to-3 p.m. stuff—private-school tuition, books, tutoring—but also high-quality extracurriculars. If a teen receives a $3,000 scholarship to join a serious club volleyball program, train at a music conservatory, or enroll in a robotics club, and that gets her off the couch and off her phone, that’s success.

Another camp wants a narrow definition. Limit the scholarships to private-school tuition and tightly aligned expenses, like school uniforms. No public school students should receive scholarships for karate school or voice lessons or rock climbing.

This narrower view is outdated. Advocates who see the outsized merit of sports and music have long fought to send money for these activities to schools. And while it may seem intuitive, it doesn’t work with languishing teens who have already voted with their seats to reject whatever their schools offer. Maybe it’s social anxiety, an annoying coach, limited offerings, or a lack of skill in basketball or musical theater.

Today’s teens also have fewer affordable non-school options. Church and community youth groups have shrunk. Recreational sports leagues are in steep decline. So teens increasingly sit at home on their screens.

Affluent families can address this languishing teen problem by taking advantage of a burgeoning extracurricular market unconnected to schools that has exploded over the past two decades. Instruction today is more specialized, more professional, and more effective than the old once-a-week community model. It is also, increasingly, pay-to-play. Research from the Aspen Institute’s Sports & Society Program shows that competitive youth sports now routinely cost families thousands of dollars per year once you include club fees, coaching, equipment, and travel. The same pattern holds in other arenas. School Of Rock has been attracting languishing teens who bailed on violin and trombone as 8-year-olds but can be pulled anew into guitar and drums—but bills for its lessons quickly reach four figures.

We shouldn’t pretend this market doesn’t exist. The question is whether only affluent families get to use it.

Let’s be clear-eyed about the alternatives. Evidence from countries trying to limit screen time outside of schools suggests teen behavior doesn’t change much.

In 2012, South Korea tried to reduce gaming by creating a midnight curfew. A large study using Korea’s national teen survey found the restriction reduced adolescents’ total Internet use by only about three minutes per day, and the effect disappeared within a few years.

In 2021, China also tried to implement gaming restrictions for minors, limiting use to one hour of online gaming (8–9 p.m.) on Fridays, weekends, and holidays. They were tough, enforcing real-name registration, facial-recognition checks, and strict monitoring requirements on gaming companies. A study found self-reported gaming time fell from about 60 to 44 minutes per day, but many teens reported substituting toward other screen activities like short-video apps. This suggests total screen time may not have changed and bans may not help reduce it.

But if Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent approves a broad-use “flourishing scholarship,” he’d produce a quadruple win.

First, these funds would directly attack the languishing teen problem without relying on heavy-handed device bans. Instead of trying to outlaw screen time—the policy equivalent of Prohibition—we would try to outcompete it.

Second, the funds would expand opportunity without harming traditional private-school scholarship students. Catholic schools, independent schools, and other religious schools would still mobilize billions through the new tax credit provision. It would not have to be zero-sum.

Third, this broader definition could expand the donor base. In some states with existing tax-credit programs to fund private-school scholarships, only 3 to 4 percent of taxpayers participate. But imagine the appeal if donations could also fund club sports and arts programs. Many more taxpayers would see a personal, local connection.

Fourth, a broader coalition would make the policy more politically durable. Blue states might decide to opt in if they can be convinced public school–attending teens would still benefit. Or consider the more than 1,000 current and former NBA, NFL, and MLB players who already run sports camps. They raise money the hard way: one fundraiser at a time. Now imagine if their supporters could, by clicking a simple checkbox, direct tax-credit dollars to send thousands more kids to those programs. Impact could scale dramatically.

Money isn’t the only obstacle; we need new ideas as well (smarts). Our organization, the Center For Teen Flourishing, studies the teens trapped with their devices—teens who are somewhat content but also wish they could get out of their bedrooms and participate in life. We imagine that some scholarship granting organizations would be designed precisely to find and onboard these young people. We believe plenty of taxpayers recognize youth languishing as a big problem, too—they see too many kids glued to their phones walking down the street, at restaurants, at their cousin’s Thanksgiving dinner—and would want to allocate their $1,700 per year to help these teens reengage with some of the life they’re missing out on.

If we are serious about teen wellbeing, we should stop pretending the only education that counts happens between 8 a.m. and 3 p.m. A major danger zone for many teens is 3 p.m. to 3 a.m. Policy should meet reality.

Regulating screens will not be enough. School choice will not be enough. Funding for a broad menu of real-life activities is hiding in plain sight. Let’s hope the U.S. Department of Treasury decides in favor of flourishing accounts this spring.

Jenny Anderson is co-author of The Disengaged Teen and a senior fellow at the Center For Teen Flourishing. Mike Goldstein is the co-founder of the Center For Teen Flourishing.