I understand I am responsible if my child renders her Chromebook a paper weight by mercilessly and giddily jamming a Bic pen into the power jack, creating a beautiful flash across the screen, and, if the TikToks are accurate, a slight puff of acrid smoke emanating from within.
I will replace my child’s Chromebook screen if she slams it over the corner of her desk or on the back of her chair, as if the future of civilization depends on her, a seven-year-old child, creating a pile of electronic waste out of a learning device that operates as the very thing that stands between her and peace of mind.
If, under any circumstances, my daughter douses her school-issued Chromebook in lighter fluid, setting it ablaze to summon evil spirits during the pledge of allegiance, I will furnish the school with a new device.

