I taught English in the Czech Republic from February to June 2002. During that time, I saw more kids screwing around with cell phones than I care to count.

There was one particularly problematic seventh-grade class. Tomas was one of its ringleaders and his behavior ensured that I had it out for him. One day he was fucking around with his phone. I walked up and grabbed it. I told him I was keeping it overnight and he could have it back the next day.

You'd think the Third World War had dawned in Class 7B. The kids freaked out. I stayed firm.

Later he rounded up his buddies and his many, many cousins. They came kicking at the door of the office I shared with the rest of the English department. I couldn't believe the entitled rage. You'd think I hadn't lived in and around Berkeley for years, but I digress.

Eventually I was pressured into giving his phone back that day. He was a little scared of me for the rest of the year, though. I do take comfort in that.