I’ve never agreed with Schools Chancellor Joel Klein’s ban on cell phones in school. I understand that students shouldn’t text or chat in class. But as a New York City public school parent whose middle school kids ride the subway and get around to after-school activities on their own, I need to hear from them when they leave and arrive. I’ve longed for a compromise solution that allows phones to be stored and retrieved when the day is over.

Camp, however, is an entirely different story, as I’ve learned the hard way this summer. My older son’s camp had a policy that kids could have their cell phones in their cabins only, but I decided this would be a good time to take it one step further.

Why, I wondered, did he need to chat or text with friends back home or call his parents during a two-week music camp? It seemed the perfect time to unplug – no computer, television or addicting electronics of any kind. Until the calls started coming in. “Mom, everyone else has a cell phone here!” came the first urgent call. “I need my cell phone!” I heard the following night. “Send it now! Send me my cell phone!”<!--more-->

I stopped answering my cell phone, but not before texting his counselor (who of course had a cell phone), so I could find out what all the fuss was about. Was I being too harsh, was there really a reason for a 13-year-old in a music camp to have it? And why did all the other parents allow phones – did they need to be reassured their kids were doing okay? I sent extra money for a calling card so he could use the camp phone if needed.

All this calling and wondering and second-guessing exhausted me, so I posted a query on Facebook and found a whole host of opinions – parents who didn’t trust camps and felt their kids absolutely had to have their phones, parents whose kids attend camps where they search and confiscate any and all electronics, parents who objected to the searching. I reread the story in last year’s New York Timesthat described how some parents pack their children off with two cell phones in case the first is taken away by camp staff. The story included plenty of anecdotes about so-called “helicopter parents” who harass the camp with calls, wondering how their little darlings are doing. I did not want to be one of those parents. Isn’t one of the points of sending them away to prepare for the inevitable separation to come years down the road?

A few days later it was time to pack my younger child off to a different camp that (thankfully) does not allow cell phones. Just before I took him to the bus, he began arguing that he can’t go to sleep at night without his iPod. Could he please take his iPod, he asked? I ignored that request. And I haven’t heard a word since. I’m fighting any impulse to call the camp, make sure he arrived safely and is doing okay. I’ve even thought about texting him to make sure he is adjusting and doesn’t need anything. But his phone is right here, plugged in and waiting, next to his brother’s.