At the start of the school year, I was scanning the after-school activities with my usual parental scepticism. Then I saw the school musical.
Before I could even finish reading, my 13-year-old daughter – who usually greets my suggestions with eye rolls – said: “I’m doing that one.”
I signed her up that afternoon. It turned out to be one of the best decisions I made for her this year.
Everything she needed was right there: dance, which she already loved, the familiarity of the school setting, and the chance to spend time with friends while making new ones.
Week after week, she came home energised. Not the distracted, screen-weary version I had grown used to, but fully engaged.
“Mum, today we blocked the opening number and the spacing was off, so I suggested changing the transition and Miss listened.”
There were full stories, opinions, creative problem-solving. A level of passion I hadn’t seen in months. She cared about something real, with real people, happening in real time.
Then came last week. Rehearsals every single day. I became a yoyo. Drop off, pick up, repeat. Checking my phone obsessively for costume delivery updates.
Showtime
The night of the performance, the lights dimmed and, for the next two hours, I watched something extraordinary.
These weren’t just kids reciting lines. They were actors. Real ones. You could see some had been taking acting lessons outside school, bringing those skills onto the stage. They embodied their characters with conviction and emotion.
The singers didn’t just hit the notes. They performed with confidence and feeling.
And the dancers? They didn’t just flip across the stage showing off tricks. Choreography
executed with precision but, more than that, with spirit. The group energy was electric. And there she was. Behind the heavy stage make-up that familiar smile I know so well, shining through.
Indescribable.
But what struck me most were the bonds. You could see the friendships formed over these few months. The inside jokes, the shared nerves, the way they looked out for each other on stage, the ease that comes from spending hours together working towards something meaningful.
The younger ones – eight, nine years old – performing alongside the seniors. The 15-year-olds patiently helping the little ones find their marks, whispering encouragement.
After the final bow, they were already talking about next year, immediately throwing out ideas.
“We should do Mean Girls.”
“I want to try for a solo.”
They weren’t thinking about what they’d post on Instagram. They were planning, together.
I’m so grateful that opportunities like this exist at schools. Not just because they’re “enriching” but because they give kids something screens can’t: real connection.
For those few hours every week, my daughter switched off. Because what was happening in that rehearsal room was more interesting than anything on her feed.
She made friends. Real ones. The kinds who remember each other’s costume sizes or lend a ball gown if the one ordered doesn’t arrive on time. She talked. Not typing. Talking face to face.
This experience gave me an unexpected realisation. It may sound obvious but it felt profound: proof that kids can still have genuine connections through shared experiences, not shared followers.
Which is why I’m grateful for St Catherine’s High School and organisations like Virtually Unplugged Kids, a group dedicated to helping parents have fun beyond devices.
My daughter didn’t need me to ban her phone to engage fully with this production. She just needed something better to do. That’s the secret. We can’t just take screens away. We have to give them alternatives worth choosing.
The musical was one of those alternatives. A chance to create, connect, perform and belong. Entirely device-free, entirely real.
Virtually Unplugged Kids champions exactly this philosophy. They’re not about demonising technology. They simply want children to have access to experiences like school musicals, outdoor adventures, creative projects, or even something as simple as going out on their own to buy bread, milk and eggs. To remind them life is richer when you look up from the screen.
As a parent, that gives me hope. Because if we create spaces where kids genuinely want to put their phones down, then maybe we haven’t lost them to the digital world after all.
If you’re a parent looking for ways to help your child unplug, visit Virtually Unplugged Kids to learn more about creating device-free moments that matter. For more information, visit the Virtually Unplugged Kids Facebook page, Facebook Group or Instagram account.
For inquiries about registering your child at SCHS, e-mail registrations@stcatherines.eu.
