Like something from a science fiction film, they appeared out of nowhere. Now they are everywhere and increasing exponentially. I have tried to get a closer look, but there is a conspiracy to stop me. Children hide them away when I approach and pretend not to be using them, but I’m not that easily fooled. In rare moments of quiet I hear their soft humming. It is like a whispered threat.
Colleagues think I am being unnecessarily alarmist and have tried to put a more positive spin on them. “They’re nothing to worry about...it’s just a fad... they’ll disappear as quickly as they came...it’s a bit of harmless fun.” But what if it isn’t harmless? What if an alien intelligence is behind their appearance? What if something extra-terrestrial is using them to control the minds of our children in order to take over the planet?
I am talking about the sudden and unexpected invasion of those three-bladed rotating toys known as fidget spinners. Where did these curious objects come from? What is the true source of their fascination? Why are our children increasingly obsessed with them?
As yet I have no answers, but in the interests of planetary security I am doing my best to fight back. Jamie’s is the fifth one I’ve confiscated today.
He tells me that it stops him getting stressed out, but of course this isn’t true. There is no scientific evidence to support claims that fidget spinners help reduce anxiety.
Sending children into a tailspin
He asks me when he can have the spinner back, but the look of desperation in his eyes reminds me of an addict wondering when he will get his next fix. I tell him that he can collect it from me after school and he begins to shake. There is a sheen of cold sweat on his brow.
It is unlikely that an alien intelligence is behind the fidget spinner phenomenon, but that doesn’t make it any less dangerous. I have witnessed first-hand how it can unleash in children the dark forces of greed, jealousy, theft, dishonesty and aggression. The resolution of ownership disputes and user conflicts through negotiation doesn’t work. Expropriation seems harsh, but it seems to be the only solution.
Why Jamie forgot to collect his after school is a mystery. But here it is in my pocket when I arrive home. And now, alone in the quiet of the living room shortly before midnight, I decide to investigate the mysterious power of its attraction.
I take a deep breath, grip it firmly between thumb and forefinger, and give it a gentle spin. It whirs effortlessly in a vaguely satisfying sort of way, but not enough to suggest it could become addictive. Then I notice the luminescence.
I turn out the lights and spin it again. In the darkness, it glows with a greater intensity. Coded patterns of green phosphorescence radiate outwards with an effect that is strangely hypnotic.
I spin it again…and again… and become so engrossed that I fail to notice the sudden appearance of a figure silhouetted in the doorway. A menacing creature, wearing a look of disdain and Mrs Eddison’s dressing gown.
Steve Eddison teaches at Arbourthorne Community Primary School in Sheffield
