When it comes to teen crises, a TikTok ban falls somewhere between getting a pimple right before prom and learning that your parents are getting a divorce.

That's the impression I got after spending last Tuesday morning with 16 students from St. Paul Academy, most of whom defended their use of a social media app that could soon be hard to download.

This was a smart bunch — some of them even take advantage of the high school's free access to the New York Times. But they're not above giggling at videos of dancing cats.

When the ban was in effect for about 12 hours last month, sophomore Murphy Miltner was at a volleyball tournament in Milwaukee.

"When we got the message, we all started crying. It was all anyone was talking about," said Miltner, who, like her classmates, works on the school's award-winning newspaper, the Rubicon. "When it came back, there was widespread celebration."

The future of the Chinese-owned app in America remains unclear.

In March 2024, Congress passed a bill banning TikTok unless it was sold, a decision backed by the U.S. Supreme Court. Shortly after returning to office, President Trump issued an executive order that allowed the company to stay online in the U.S. for at least 75 more days.

Young people like junior Andrew Lipinsky wonder why elected officials aren't focused on more important issues.

"Why is the government focused on banning a social media app instead of helping the homeless?" he said. "The only thing Democrats and Republicans can agree on is banning social media while we're funding wars and don't have free health care."

I didn't want to get too much into the political weeds. I have no idea whether China would use TikTok to manipulate us. But I do know a few things about pop culture. I worry about the Z Generation's choices. Is watching a whining influencer as rewarding as bingeing "My So-Called Life" or listening to Joni Mitchell's "Blue" on vinyl?

When I asked the class how many had heard of Paul Newman, only senior Aarushi Bahadur raised her hand — and she avoids social media.

She recently started watching "Twin Peaks" with her family. She finished the series; her parents gave up.

But other students wonder if there are enough hours in the week to commit to an entire series. It's much easier to scroll 20-second clips from classic sitcoms.

"When my parents talk about their childhood, it sounds like they had more time," junior Lani Ngonethong said. "Today, it seems like there's a different kind of hustle."

But today's teens find ways to engage that older folks couldn't have imagined in the '80s, when the best way to know a pop star was through Tiger Beat magazine.

Rachel Grae, a New Jersey-based singer-songwriter with over 1.3 million TikTok followers, uses her platform to let fans know they're not alone in sweating over topics like body shaming and mental health.

"If someone is looking up to me, I want them to see that I'm not a perfect person," said Grae, who will be performing Feb. 14 at 7th St. Entry in Minneapolis. "Sometimes it feels like a therapy session."

TikTok also can lead to real-life encounters. Grae, 22, sets up chatrooms so her followers can meet at concerts.

"Some people don't have anyone to go to a show with, so they arrange to hang with someone," said Grae, whose tunes have been featured on "Love Island UK." "It's a way to gain friends."

Dillon White, a Minnesota attorney who hosts @dadchats on TikTok, believes the social media app does a better job than other apps of favoring videos that are relatable and substantial.

"Instagram is for lives we would never lead with fancy vacations, fitness models and going to the beach. You feel like the nerd at the cool kids' table," said White, who has more than 2.5 million followers checking out his thoughts on being a parent. "We talk about normal things. We don't glorify the lives that we are living."

White isn't sure if the TikTok ban will ever become permanent — and he doesn't want to spend any more time worrying about it.

"I don't want to play this game anymore," he said. "It's like we're playing pingpong, and I can't decide if I'm the ball or the paddle. The problem is out of my hands."

In the meantime, some adults are applying their own sorts of bans. Starting this semester, St. Paul Academy students can no longer use their cellphones during school hours without special permission.

Sophomore Audrey Peltier said she doesn't feel like she's being more productive during her free periods, when she used to check in on social media.

"I try, but I get distracted in other ways," she said.

And it's not like it's dampening her love for TikTok.

"Not being able to have my phone makes me want to scroll even more when I get home," she said. "Just to catch up."