Educational Technology, it is widely argued, shouldn’t be about the technology. The cool new bells and whistles are not what matters; it’s the content of the learning that matters.

This belief is what has fueled the technology integration movement: Computers and other gadgets should be used within the context of the curriculum. It is the curriculum that matters; gadgets are the way we can have our students better access and process that curriculum.

But is this dichotomy—technology versus the curriculum—necessarily true? Perhaps it is a false one? For the most part, I have heartily agreed with the notion that computers should be integrated into the curriculum. The gadgets are merely tools and many times I have admired a cool new bell or whistle but recommended against its use in a particular classroom if it’s going to create more work and yield little value.

“But is this dichotomy—technology versus the curriculum—necessarily true?”

And for the most part, schools have gotten rid of “Computer Class” and instead expected teachers to seamlessly weave these skills into their daily classroom routine. Many teachers are fine with this. For whatever reason—be it generational (younger teachers are more comfortable with computers as a part of daily life) or personal tenacity (older teachers who readily master new skills)—many teachers are comfortable using computers in their work and pushing—no, allowing, really—their students to do so as well. But there are some teachers who feel they don’t have the time to teach computer skills, that it’s the content of their curriculum that matters more. This tension builds resentment: resentment between the teacher and the administration, the teacher and the perhaps younger or more technically adept teachers, the teacher and this “new world” that demands this of them.

I do sympathize with these feelings, but at the risk of alienating some of my teacher friends who feel this way, I’m going to go out on a limb and proclaim the following: Computer skills DO matter; they are extremely important. But when proclaiming this, I’m not thinking about “job readiness.” Nor even “college readiness.”

I’m actually thinking of thinking skills. I’m thinking of literacy, logic, and reasoning. Of creativity and risk-taking. Here is one example of what I mean:

If I plunked you on a deserted island and gave you a strange machine, a strange machine you have never seen before, and I told you you can use it send messages to the outside world, would you be able to figure out how it works? If you have a lot of prior experience with message-sending machines, you might be able to transfer some of that knowledge to this new situation. You see the buttons above. This is a NEW machine, but those buttons look familiar. Could that “B” button make your “Rescue Me” message look bold? You try it and indeed, it does. Two important things have happened here: 1) You have transferred your prior knowledge to a new situation; and 2) You have taken a risk and tested that knowledge.

While exploring your new machine, you find a file named “Rescue” with this icon next to it:

I certainly hope you click on it! Hopefully, because you have worked with media players before, you recognize this ubiquitous “Play” symbol. Sure enough, the “Rescue” video plays and offers you valuable tips on smoke signals and how to flash Morse Code with your cell phone screen or compact mirror.

In my years of teaching people of all ages how to do things on a computer, I have noticed that for the most part, folks break down into two categories. Those who tinker and those who don’t. The tinkerers push the buttons, pull down the menus, press, tweak, and play, often with the same joy as a kindergartener with a lump of Play-Dough.

When a young child first picks up the lump of Play-Doh, she doesn’t necessarily know what she’s going to make. As she rolls and twists the pliable mass in her hands, she gains knowledge of its properties and capabilities. Slowly, her imagination fires and the lump becomes something. As she gains more and more experience with Play-Dough, she learns what it can and can’t do and stores that understanding in her imagination’s toolbox. Then, in third grade, she is asked to make a model of a pair of lungs. Because she is familiar with these properties and capabilities, she thinks, “Play-Dough will be perfect for that!” Gaining familiarity with the tool allows her to integrate the tool into how she thinks and creates.

“Gaining familiarity with the tool allows her to integrate the tool into how she thinks and creates.”

The non-tinkerers want to know the steps for how to get something done—how to print that report and print that report only. How to open that email. How to merge that mailing.

This has affected how I teach people computer skills. In a recent “Computers for Beginners” class, I was asked for a step-by-step outline of all the skills I taught that night in the two-hour session. I immediately felt guilty that I hadn’t provided such a crib sheet. But I realized that I really don’t like to do so. I want my students to think. I want the two hours to be experiential, but also thoughtful. I want them to process the hows and whys behind the steps so that when they go home or when they are faced with a new software application, they are comfortable tinkering and thinking. When faced with a new interface of some sort, can they recognize how the menus are organized? Do they know what a palette is? Do they recognize the red x in the top right corner of the window and even though they’ve never used this application before, can they close it by clicking that red x?

Or when they get stuck on a desert island, will they press a “Play” button they have never seen before?

Learning how to use a computer—really learning it—is an exercise in thinking and too many of us relegate “computer skills” to the job-readiness part of the curriculum. Much has been said recently about how in 10, 15 years, our students will be working in careers that haven’t been invented yet. How will they be ready if they don’t practice learning how to experiment, transfer prior knowledge, and implement what’s in their imagination’s toolbox?

“How will they be ready if they don’t practice learning how to experiment, transfer prior knowledge, and implement what’s in their imagination’s toolbox?”

The ability to deeply learn a tool doesn’t end with Play-Doh and computers. All kinds of 21st century situations will demand that people call upon something they know and apply it to a new situation. Indeed, hasn’t all human growth and progress demanded this of us?

As I watched a cable show tonight on Paroxysmal Extreme Pain Disorder, I was struck by the kind of thinking involved in treating this rare condition. There are only 15 known families with PEPD in the world, so therapies have obviously not been extensively researched. They know that the terrifying and painful sysmptoms are caused by irregularities in the sodium channels, so doctors are taking what they do know about sodium channel modulators and testing it on these patients. While treatment protocols for many illnesses have been standardized—and one is considered an excellent doctor if one can select and apply the appropriate protocol–the effective PEPD doctor does not look for a step-by-step crib sheet—the algorithm—for how to treat this disorder. Because there is none.

So, yes, I believe in so-called Technology Integration. But I am frustrated when schools say they don’t have time to teach computer skills, that they are too busy with the “curriculum,” as if the two are diametrically opposed. We should all be in the business of teaching thinking.

Tags: critical thinking, technology integration