“What scares you most?” was the question asked to members of Mrs. Devonshire’s fourth-grade class.

The little hands went up.

“AI scares me,” said one boy.

Mrs. Devonshire was perplexed. “But you’re only nine years old.”

“I’m afraid technology is going to make me obsolete. My brother uses ChatGPT to do his homework. His professors use it, too. So why even go to college if everyone is cheating? Why should employers hire graduates when they can hire GPT?”

Mrs. Devonshire was taken off-guard. “What about snakes and spiders? Is anyone afraid of those?”

Another hand rose. It was a little girl sitting in a position which we used to call “Indian style” before that was incorrect and now nobody knows what the heck to call it.

“I’m afraid of culture wars,” replied the girl. “It’s getting where you can’t say anything without offending someone. Everyone is analyzing everything about everyone else. From the brand of coffee you buy to the restaurant you choose. For example, the Cracker Barrel logo—”

“STOP!” said Mrs. Devonshire who had already broken into a nervous sweat. “We’re not going to discuss Cracker Barrel. I might get fired.”

Another hand went up. “I’m afraid my attention span is being ruined by overuse of technology. By the time I’m an adult I won’t be able to pay attention for more than three seconds without checking my phone.”

“Sorry,” said the teacher, putting her phone in her pocket. “What did you just say, sweetie? I was replying to a text.”

“I’m afraid of Cancel Culture,” said another. “Fear of being cancelled is leading to self-censorship and killing free speech. Online mobs flood comment sections and reach a verdict before the accused even has a chance to respond. Seventy-three percent of social media users have changed their online behavior due to this fear.”

In the back of the class, more hands rose.

“I’m afraid of the loneliness epidemic. We’re more connected than ever, but headed toward permanent social isolation. The U.S. Surgeon General declared loneliness a public health crisis as lethal as smoking 15 daily cigarettes.”

“We don’t say ‘cigarettes,’” said Mrs. Devonshire. “We say ‘nicotine abuse.’”

“I am afraid of deepfakes,” said one little girl.

“I have FOMO,” added another, “that’s fear of missing out.”

“I’m afraid our civilization’s history is biased and being re-written by the loudest and most hateful voices.”

“Billy,” came the teacher’s rebuke. “We don’t say ‘history,” that’s gender microaggression. We say ‘PERSON-story.’”

“I’m afraid of school safety,” said another kid. “Weekly ‘active shooter’ drills remind us all that school shootings are a constant concern.”

“I have a fear of Parental Over Sharing,” said another child. “My mom posts thousands of social media items about me, she is constantly forcing me to perform for the camera so she can get likes and shares and go viral, it’s poisoning my self-image and will cause me to seek validation in online interaction statistics.”

“I have Nomophobia,” another kid said. “That’s no-mobile-phone-phobia, fear my phone battery will die.”

“I’m afraid of my Digital Permanent Record,” said another. “If I make one wrong post or photo in my youth it will last forever online, resurfacing years later to ruin my career or social standing.”

“I am afraid of inflation. Housing costs have risen 105 percent since I was born.”

“I have privacy paranoia. Our technology is always listening to us. There are 100 million surveillance cameras in America.”

A little girl in the back of the class had remained silent all morning. Taking it all in. Finally, her hand rose slowly.

The teacher called on her.

“What about you, Mrs. Devonshire?” asked the girl. “What are YOU afraid of?”

“Truthfully?” Mrs. Devonshire said, drawing in a deep breath. “I’m afraid you’re all right.”