A couple of years after I graduated from high school, my alma mater, a school composed – unfortunately – of many rich, self-entitled, bookless sloths (who, rather sadly, often overshadow the more industriously academic students who cower in the footsteps of their boisterous or sometimes somnolent classmates), introduced an “iPad for everyone” campaign. Upon learning this news, I groaned in exasperation and annoyance, and the entire academic world felt the pang of educational sin committed by the small prep school I attended in suburban St. Paul, Minn.
Like any iPhone owner, I realize the value of the small miracle that Apple has sold me; without my phone, how would I stay in touch with people in this newly digitized world?
The lure of technology in education is thus understandable. With iPads, a student can have both multiple textbooks in one place and the ability to do factual research quickly, all on one, very portable device. But where do we as a society draw the line between what is actually necessary and what is just a phase – a marketing stunt with no academic value – as the iPad program is? iPads are cool, but there is no need for them, or any portable electronic device, for that matter, in the classroom.
Admittedly, sometimes it is necessary to use computers, tablets or cell phones in class, but these devices also have inherently distracting qualities: Facebook can’t be checked with a textbook, for instance, and text messages are not sent with a pen and paper. Using these distracting devices in an academic setting reveals a starting idea that seems to be emerging across the country today: learning is all about data collection, and the future rests on the shoulders of those who can analyze the great mass of information swimming around out there.
But college, as with all education, is more than just collecting information. Education is about thinking, and students need to realize that regurgitation, while a fundamental part of the process, is only the beginning; knowledge comes through pondering and imagining – to which portable electronics have no answer.
In a recent piece published in the New York Times, David Brooks addresses this idea of the increasing role that technology plays in human interaction, including learning. He argues that the data-crazed devices (like cell phones, computers and tablets) have their value; there is not much to argue against about the value of instant communication or immediate data acquisition.
But he counters these benefits with the warning that we must not let personal technology interfere with our own ability – indeed, calling – to think critically, and this maxim can be applied more specifically to higher education; learning in college is not all about data collection and regurgitation, which Internet connected devices like iPads encourage. Much of what is learned here at a university is centered around critical thinking and the ability to engage in profound, thought-provoking discussion.
As Brooks says, “in the age of smart machines, we’re not human because we have big brains. We’re human because we have social skills, emotional capacities and moral intuitions.” Digital devices, especially the socially-oriented ones like cell phones and iPads, have the paradoxical possibility of making us more antisocial and unengaged; ignoring the world around us (our class discussions, for instance) by being glued to a reality that is, literally, in the cloud, represents the nadir of social stupidity.
There is, however, hope in this data-driven, electronics-obsessed, academic future. Easy access to data on an iPad, for instance, can allow students to focus on deeper educational endeavors by making the rudimentary facts easily obtainable. And “in this future,” Brooks writes, “there is an increasing emphasis on personal and moral faculties: being likable, industrious, trustworthy and affectionate.” Maybe, because it’s still in its early stages, I shouldn’t be so critical of “iPads for everyone.”
Maybe this whole program will work out, but for now, I’ll stick with pens, paper and my books.
