Across the country, schools are rethinking their relationship with technology.
At least 38 states and the District of Columbia are restricting cellphones during the school day. Parents are pushing back on screen time and social media use. Educators are questioning whether technology in classrooms has improved learning or simply made it harder for students to focus. And the rapid rise of artificial intelligence has intensified concerns that students are losing opportunities for deep thinking, productive struggle, and meaningful human interaction.
Much of this backlash is understandable.
As a parent of three children—two of whom attend a public school system currently grappling with its use of technology—I understand why so many families are pushing schools to rethink screens, devices, and artificial intelligence. I, too, want my children to spend less time with technology that distracts them, isolates them from their peers, or encourages passive consumption during “free time.” I want classrooms centered on discussion, relationships, curiosity, debate, and deep learning. And I want schools to be cautious before introducing any technology into students’ lives.
But my professional life adds another layer to this thinking. After nearly a decade in the tech sector, I now work at a foundation that supports organizations working to improve educational outcomes for students. Some use technology and artificial intelligence; others do not. What matters is not whether a tool is digital. It’s whether the addition of technology improves outcomes for kids.
That perspective leaves me worried that, in our effort to remove harmful technology from schools, we may inadvertently eliminate tools that help teachers teach and students learn.
There is an important difference between consumer technologies designed to capture attention and evidence-based instructional tools designed to improve teaching and learning. There is a difference between passive screen time and adaptive academic support. And there’s a difference between tools that replace human interaction and connection and tools that strengthen it.
Yet, the current conversation too often collapses these distinctions, treating these different categories as if they were one and the same.
Consider Tennessee or Kansas or a district like Los Angeles that, in response to legitimate concerns from parents, aims to reduce screen time by eliminating Chromebooks for elementary-age students. In the process, a virtual tutoring program that provided struggling young readers with individualized support could get eliminated. Teachers could lose access to tools that helped them provide timely feedback on student writing or quickly identify common misconceptions in math, which they could then tackle live in the classroom. And new-language learners and children with learning differences could lose translation and accessibility supports that allowed them to succeed.
Schools adopted lots of technology rapidly, often without clear evidence that it improved student outcomes.
None of these consequences was the intention. But they illustrate the risk of simplifying the current debate.
Instead of asking whether technology belongs in classrooms at all, the more important question is how that technology is designed to support learning and whether it delivers on that promise.
The past decade offers plenty of reasons for skepticism. Schools adopted lots of technology rapidly, often without clear evidence that it improved student outcomes. One study of tools built specifically for education purposes found only 1 in 5 showed any evidence of impact. It’s no wonder that teachers experienced firsthand how devices and poorly designed products could interrupt learning rather than support it and that parents watched children struggle with attention, social connection, and mental health in an increasingly digital world.
Those lessons matter. But another lesson matters too: Schools, teachers, and students continue to face real challenges, and technology can help address them.
Many of the conditions that fueled the growth of ed tech remain today. Teachers are overwhelmed. Students continue to struggle academically, particularly in math and reading. Districts face persistent staffing shortages, especially in high-need communities, making promising interventions like high-dosage tutoring difficult to staff.
When designed to address specific problems and implemented as intended, technology can help tackle these challenges. Curriculum-aligned instructional tools can at least modestly accelerate student learning. High-dosage tutoring delivered in a hybrid or virtual setting can provide students with individualized support even when human tutors are scarce. Translation and accessibility tools can expand access for multilingual learners or students with disabilities. AI-supported assessment tools can help teachers provide more timely feedback while freeing up time for instruction and relationship-building.
Through this lens of added value for learning, artificial intelligence deserves especially careful scrutiny. Tools that minimize critical thinking, replace student writing, or foster dependence do not belong in classrooms. (Researchers from Stanford University recently reviewed over 800 studies of generative AI tools in education; none was identified to be a high-quality causal study in K-12 settings for students in the United States.) Still, banning AI altogether ignores its potential to reduce administrative burden, help teachers personalize instruction, and expand access to academic support for students who need it most—as well as empower children to understand and leverage the technology of the future.
The question of technology in classrooms shouldn’t be a yes or no. At Overdeck Family Foundation, where I work, we’ve considered the existing research and the experience of our grantees to develop questions to guide decisionmaking about digital tools going forward. The questions won’t make the decisions easy, but the decisions will be sounder. As district leaders reconsider what belongs, they should ask:
- Is there credible evidence that this tool is the best way to address the problem you’re hoping to solve? If so, what is the expected impact on student outcomes?
- When implemented well, does the tool support, rather than replace, strong teaching?
- Does the tool connect to and enhance current instructional approaches and curricula? Is it developmentally appropriate for the age band?
- Once procured, is there a process in place for tracking and evaluating impact on student outcomes? What is the plan if impact is not detected?
- Can educators clearly explain to families what the technology is, and is not, being used for?
The work ahead is not deciding whether schools should use technology. It’s becoming much more sophisticated at distinguishing between technology that undermines learning versus technology that advances it.
We owe it to students, like my daughters, to get that distinction right.
