Timely Reading: A Case Study
Dear Reader,
In a season of panic, and I think enough people are panicking that we might consider ourselves in one, it’s easy to avoid thinking beyond survival.
Several months ago, I was reading a book about a group of intellectuals in the midst of World War II. Their conundrum: Should they consider the intellectual life in a season like this? And if so, how should they consider it?
Their answer to whether people should consider the intellectual life in the midst of war was a resounding “Yes!” (though they were probably still contemplating their position right up until the end of the war).
The answer to how people should consider it included wrestling with the ideas of what sort of humanity and what sort of education they (and those after them) would want, would truly contribute to human flourishing. As in World War II, education today—literally today—is experiencing a shift in the midst of much larger events. That shift might be temporary; it might be permanent. It’s a shift that educational technology vendors have dreamed about.
Many years ago, when I was still actively developing ed-tech products myself, I wrote a cautionary piece about the direction in which I saw things moving. I laugh now at my inability to foresee the direction (direction, not growth) of Khan Academy towards becoming yet another data factory. (I’m still annoyed with how the final formatting worked out, including the chosen title, as writers don’t make those decisions for other publications.) But aside from a few lines I’d now modify slightly, my hesitations expressed in that piece remain ones I’d stand behind. If anything, I’m disturbed with how ed-tech has developed since then, down the very path it should not.
My sophomoric grappling with educational technology, though, is brought into sharp focus when one reads a real ed-tech researcher. Not that my role then as an ed-tech creator provided no valuable insight. It’s simply that whatever value I provided pales next to what Audrey Watters provides. (In fact, I’m thankful for her work, as it’s spared me spending my own energies on habitual ed-tech research and commentary.)
I must warn readers that her language at Hack Education would fit in with a set of drunken sailors. Her every conclusion, opinion, and insight are most definitely not my own. And I don’t necessarily even enjoy the reminders of how horrible ed-tech can be.
If I decide, like those in WWII, that even in the midst of calamity I should think. Think about education. Think about the world that comes after, and perhaps even during. Well, then exploring the ed-tech shift students are experiencing today is part of that equation.
So here’s how I handle reading something that isn’t a pleasant read—but is still important for being an informed citizen—when all I’d prefer is pleasant reads, or at least something that doesn’t absolutely depress me. (If you recall from this newsletter’s description, it’s about the art and science of reading. This is unmistakably art, psychology of coping mechanisms aside.)
Audrey Watters dropped some knowledge in her end-of-the-decade review of ed-tech. That is, she took a decade’s worth of absurdly detailed research, and then shared it freely for anyone to benefit from. It’s also painful to read, because it makes you weep to realize what’s sold to schools and families as “for our good.” (If you don’t yelp aloud at least once, you’re the sort of person who can read Bad Blood without wincing or thinking anything seems amiss.)
Fortunately, Watters has arranged matters so that our daily time in the intellectual sewers needn’t overwhelm us. You see, it’s “The 100 Worst Ed-Tech Debacles of the Decade..” So how does one engage with something that will be unpleasant but also seems valuable to know? The smallest of chunks. I suggest taking on two debacles a day, four at the most.
After reading that piece over several weeks, try her single year review. It’s much shorter, but also quite good. And amusingly so considering that 2019 is the year she spent the least amount of time tracking things second-by-second.
Here’s the thing about timely reads: we don’t have to become experts in all things educational technology. We don’t even have to read everything Audrey Watters writes. But reading just enough that we aren’t dazzled dazed by visions of ed-tech salvation can be an important part of the intellectual life in a crisis.
What are we all hunkering down for, if not the betterment of our lives and the lives of those we love? If ed-tech does indeed become “an integral element in the contemporary classroom”—Oh words I would retract—what ed-tech will it be, and how shall we help our learning communities use it wisely?
Here’s to the only occasional sobering read. May they not be too frequent or taxing.
Kreigh
P.S. Yes, in the spirit of solidarity, I’m re-reading Watters’ piece, starting tomorrow. Just in case any of you decide to join me. And yes, my first read of it was broken across many days.
P.P.S. As background knowledge can be helpful in reading, if Watters’ tone and approach seem strident, it’s because she’s been on this beat for a decade. If she seems exhausted and dismissive, well, you would be too after hearing the same ed-tech marvels repackaged as novelty year-upon-year. But when else can you read a critic at her peak, dropping lines like “The greatest trick the ed-tech devil ever played was convincing people that clicking was “active learning”?