It is evident that there is an established trend of technology companies developing software for schools. Some of the recent activities are from established players in the technology world. This includes Google’s Chromebook initiative, which created a stripped down, powerful laptop computer that relied on cloud-based services instead of native software. These laptops have been widely purchased by many districts and school boards in North America. One could also give credit to Apple for its initiatives in EdTech, with many districts providing an iPad for every student to enhance the learning process.
There are also a lot of startups entering the EdTech space. This includes Top Hat, classroom engagement software that lets teachers ask questions to students, with the students submitting responses via their cell phone or laptops. Another is Remind 101, a texting solution that allows teachers to send text-based reminders to students and their parents about events, homework, and other important information.
While it is exciting to see innovation surrounding the education space, I am skeptical about the consequences of new software entering our school systems and am against some of the technologies being introduced. While many technologies are shiny and appear to be useful, I question whether they will truly impact the lives of students. Many technology companies are trying out different ideas to promote a better learning environment, but I also worry about the impact these ideas can have on a school system. Imagine a software product that a school has become dependent on over these past few years: What if the developers decided to drastically alter its current direction, seriously affecting the classroom’s activities? Is the software developer obligated, as an organization, to provide alternative services to the customer as compensation?
At the same time, who, on the other end, is regulating new technology companies in the EdTech space? With intimate details such as parents’ financial information, cloud storage of students’ assignments, grades, and personal communication, and even the ability to keep track of a student’s activity on their Chromebook or iPad, who’s regulating the companies, school administrators, and distributors’ access to sensitive information? Who’s deciding what information can be collected and who can see this data?
Despite these risks surrounding new technologies, I am even more concerned about the actual impact they can have on our school systems. How can a private firm stick to developing technologies that improve the educational experience for students? What benchmarks can they compare themselves to and who can assess these statistics fairly? How does a developer know they are making an impact?
Take, for example, software that my younger brother uses as a part of his curriculum, known as Raz Kids. This software requires students to read books created by Raz Kids to collect points and stars, and the teacher eventually grades him based on his involvement with the application. While the software can be commended for its narration and ability to highlight words they think the students will mispronounce or read, the problem is that all of the books Raz Kids offers to students are books created by the platform itself. There is no room for literature or classic novels or reputable authors, and instead of providing thoughtful books for kids that they will remember for the rest of their lives, the platform serves up half-baked books on loosely generated topics by unheard-of authors. Instead of providing kids with a way to truly fall in love with reading through great story telling, Raz Kids has provided a platform for students to get their required grades by reading shitty content that they will immediately forget after consuming.
You’d think that established educators with years of experience would create the content from EdTech companies, but you couldn’t be more wrong. Recently, I had the opportunity to visit a software vendor responsible for supplying online courseware for Sheridan and many other notable higher education institutions. Their workspace was literally an apartment suite they had rented out. Complete with makeshift desks, a sketchy mattress in a separate room, and a messy kitchen. The headquarters was unimpressive, and the “educators” themselves did not have relevant degrees and had virtually no teaching experience. Yet, here they were, providing educational content for many established institutions. The place felt more like a content farm than a place where the boundaries of learning were being challenged. I wouldn’t be surprised if Raz Kids created its content under the same conditions, with the same types of unqualified authors.
It pains me to think about the generations of children who will continue to grow up without a proper introduction to literature. With such poor inputs, I wonder what kind of outputs these children will be capable of as a result.
I have spoken to other teachers about technology entering the school system. One teacher quite plainly told me, “you don’t need some fancy predictive software to detect which students are likely to fail the course, I can tell you usually after the first week or two – sometimes even based on who they are sitting with and how they interact with me as a facilitator.” As such, I can’t help but wonder why so many school boards are adopting useless software in the first place.
At the heart of my concerns is this issue: schools can potentially adapt to include new kinds of software they really don’t need and that doesn’t address the root of their problems. After all, technology spending in education looks great: parents are happy because their kids are getting access to the latest equipment and school boards look like they are actually doing something – or at least trying to solve a problem. The deep-rooted issues, however, like a lack of support for staff, remain standing. Instead of offering teachers additional support, there is online video software so teachers can record lectures in advance, a faster way for students to hand in things, and a faster way for teachers to mark – none of which actually provide staff with the teaching assistance support they actually need.
This doesn’t go without saying: I believe the introduction of EdTech into schools is inevitable, and despite my concerns, I still avidly support EdTech startups. However, as a student myself, I’ve rarely been impressed by the software school boards tend to select. It is apparent that boards have no taste when it comes to technology, and I always imagine a big group of consultants and senior school officials scratching their heads over the latest “responsive mobile based application” presented by a group of 20-somethings fresh out of Silicon Valley.
I dream of a world where a school board chooses a more expensive software vendor because they were behind a cutting edge, imaginative platform that could have impacted the lives of many students. However, it pains me to see schools adopt cutting-edge, bulky software while liberal arts programs are cancelled left, right, and centre, or the phys. ed. department has to sell much of its needed equipment. I dream of the day when school boards will learn to recognize the potential of technology in schools without severely hindering the well-rounded educational experiences of students.
New entrants pose many privacy risks and concerns, with EdTech companies trying out new ideas that could drastically affect the school system. However, it is difficult to truly assess if technology is positively or negatively impacting the educational system. I believe that often, technology can simply provide school administrators with a scapegoat, rather than addressing problems at their core. It will be interesting, in the future, to see the impact of EdTech adoption policies in school systems and on students’ futures, interests, and personal growth.