Technology and the classroom

As there has been with any form of advancement or progress in the past, there is now considerable hesitancy on the part of some to embrace the educational tech revolution going on around us. Reputable newspapers like The New York Times and the Boston Globe have published pieces that express concern and anxiety over the growing role of electronic media in education, and many professors still disallow the use of laptops in their classrooms. The reasons behind their resistance, though sometimes difficult to quantify exactly, seem to range from personal preference in some cases all the way to societal dissatisfaction in others.

Many of these roadblocks may appear to be well founded but hopefully will evaporate in light of more careful consideration. Take, for example, the charge that is probably the most frequently levied against laptop use in the classroom, which is that the personal computer, rather than enhancing a student’s learning experience, serves instead as a distraction.

The underpinnings of this problem are obscured by the obviousness of this observation. Of course the laptop offers the opportunity for distraction in a classroom setting; that is undeniable and is not in dispute. However, it’s not the fault of the laptop that a student becomes distracted any more than it is the fault of the Sudoku puzzle in the back pages of the newspaper that they’ve brought with them. It is up to each and every student to maintain his own focus during class, and the mandate against the computer misses the mark in that it is an attempt to inspire attention in students that could be more adequately fostered by alternative means. After all, if a student spends the entirety of his semester in lecture on Facebook and his test scores do not suffer, then I would suggest that it is not laptop usage that that professor needs to be evaluating and reforming.

The suggestion of personal responsibility is not an unreasonable one. In fact, it follows the pattern that society has set for almost anything that is capable of abuse: alcohol, tobacco, fatty foods and even exercise. It is up to consumers to use responsibly, and their motivation is, or at least should be, derived from their sole implication in the consequences of failing to do so.

But there is another, far more subtle repercussion of the presence of the laptop in the classroom, and that is the silent restructuring of the educational hierarchy. Traditionally, the economy of the classroom has operated as what can very reductively be labeled the “arrow of information.” The professor disseminates his lesson to the students, who in turn consume it without immediate alternative or complement. Even in seminar settings, in which matters of opinion may be openly disputed or discussed, thus giving the appearance of equitable exchange, the flow of source information is controlled entirely by what the professor chooses to incorporate into readings, handouts and other preparatory devices.

The laptop alters this arrangement because it places the student on the same plane as his professor. He now controls the same power over information and the lesson as the teacher, with vast implications for practicality. A student can momentarily delve deeper into a given subject if he feels that the lecturer has not given it enough time, or he can access secondary sources to immediately buttress an argument he is preparing to make. He can clarify basic points of personal confusion without slowing down a seminar discussion in order to do so. In short, the laptop helps to synthesize and centralize the daily learning experience so that it occurs holistically and in a sort of “real-time” setting. If anything, it has the potential to increase a student’s focus on a given subject, should he be that aforementioned sort of student that seeks to harness the aid’s true capacity in the classroom.

Unfortunately, even these arguments, solid as they may be, fail to totally see the point, and they share their pitfall with the naysayers. Whether the laptop is supremely beneficial or the most superfluous of distractions is irrelevant, and moralizing on the topic is ultimately a waste of time. It is here, and it is becoming increasingly incorporated in the settings of work and education. Rather than resist or promote this inevitable revamping, it is ultimately more important simply to accept it and to become acclimated with the contemporary classroom frontier that it seems to be bringing along. By moving past personal feelings on this new aspect of education and instead hastening to streamline interaction with it, an individual can help to guarantee himself further success in his field, whatever it may be.

If only the strong survive, then those who until this point have abstained might be wise to catch up. It’s better late than never.