Tech Doesn’t Teach
Aformer student of mine recently dropped off donuts and a funny note for me at school. The gift was extra special because this was a student who really struggled with the expectations of school. But as I got to know him, I found him to be funny and sweet. With some extra help, he passed the English Regents exam and graduated.
The glazed donuts reminded me that building relationships with students is the most important part of my job. Children learn the most when they feel valued as human beings, when they feel part of a community, when they know we are in this thing called “school” together.
For the past two decades as a high-school English teacher, I have guided students through a multitude of books and writing strategies. I’ve ridden the teacher-assessment wave from tests, to portfolios, back to tests again.
But the heart of my teaching hasn’t changed. I still love class discussions, reading aloud, laughter, decorating my classroom with Charlie Brown comics and writing comments on students’ papers in rainbow-colored flair pens, sometimes with my lame attempts at drawing.
To my younger colleagues and administrators, I’m a bit of an anachronism. Districts today are investing the majority of their time, money and faith in technology. If you walk the halls of a school today, you will often find quiet classrooms, where students are engaged in solo work on computers. Grading and teacher-student communication happen through comments typed onto a student’s document, and group work occurs silently in the virtual world.
Proponents point out that technology is now central to nearly every workplace. True enough. But kids are already experts at using computers: They spend the majority of their free time on devices. And whatever apps and programs we “teach” them to use today will undoubtedly be outdated by the time they enter the work world.
Computers are tools, not teachers. Besides, as any Silicon Valley executive will tell you, computers are designed to be super user-friendly, so where’s the skill? And what other skills are being neglected and lost in the technology craze?
How will students learn to work collaboratively if they are always working alone? When will they hear from peers with different perspectives, cultures and passions? How will they learn to share their beliefs respectfully?
Teaching has always been more than disseminating information or honing academic skills. Good teaching is mentoring, motivating and listening. The most meaningful learning occurs when students are engaged with their teacher and each other.
It also seems a bitter irony that in an age when teen depression is at a historic high, up 52 percent in the last 10 years, according to the National Institute of Health, we are substituting computers for human interaction. Historically, teachers have been a bridge to connect students with much needed social and emotional support, but that only happens when the teacher knows the student, and if the student trusts the teacher.
In this disembodied age of teaching, how long will it be before teachers disappear altogether? How long before the cost-effectiveness of online classes becomes the norm? And what happens to children when one of the last actual, in-person communities available to them disappears?
In an increasingly lonely world, where kids spend so much time virtually existing on social media, school must remain an interpersonal experience. It requires a lot more of a teacher to get to know students and extend their concern and humanity. Truthfully, it’s exhausting, but that connection is what matters most and what kids remember the most.
Teaching has always been about helping kids. Today, they need help learning how to put the computers and phones away for a while, and participate in life.
No app or device will ever be as glorious, confounding or inspiring as the person sitting next to you. In an increasingly detached and isolating world, teachers need to be present to remind kids that no matter what they are struggling with, math or literature or sadness, they are never facing it alone.