JE3 - Technology and Its Discontents: Concerns and Challenges

Technology and Its Discontents: Concerns and Challenges

Sunday, 22 November 2009 23:43

Lo! Men have become the tools of their tools. ~Henry David Thoreau

In the previous sections we have detailed some of the ways in which technology opens up new possibilities and directions for Jewish learning and teaching. Technology empowers contemporary learners in unprecedented ways. It greatly increases the potential for connection and communication. And, it expands the settings and media in and through which learning can take place. On the whole, these represent a boon for Jewish education, promoting wider access, more engaging learning, and broader networks of conversation.

But technology is not an unmitigated blessing. The changes that technology brings to the practice of Jewish education have profound implications for its structure and culture as well. Some have argued that these changes threaten important values that have been integral to Jewish learning and teaching, in some cases for millennia. Further, by making new demands on the talents and skills of students, educators, and program organizers, technology may actually reduce the quantity and quality of learning taking place. Poorly used technology may be worse than no technology at all.

These concerns should not be dismissed lightly. They are worth careful consideration, not because they are likely to lead us to retreat from the expanded use of technology (if such were even possible), but because they may help us shape that use in ways that can diminish what some see as the unintended negative consequences of the embrace of technology. At least five such concerns and challenges have been articulated, each of which merits a response both in principle and in practice.

Concern/Challenge #1: Technology substitutes virtual experiences for real ones.

Perhaps the most fundamental critique of the spread of technology, not only in Jewish education, but in society as a whole, is that the virtual worlds it creates deter us from experiencing the real world to its full extent. It’s easy to list (and lampoon) the “sins” of “virtualism” to which we have fallen prey: emailing colleagues down the hall instead of walking over to speak with them; “playing golf” on a Wii instead of on the golf course; spending hours surfing the web instead of devoting time to our families. For education, the challenge lies not just in the fact that technology-based activities like surfing and texting can be distractions from the “serious business” of learning. Even the growing incorporation of virtual experiences into the learning process itself raises questions. For all the benefits that emanate from being able to connect students to peers thousands of miles away via videoconferencing or from virtual tours of ancient (or modern) Jerusalem, if these become substitutes for building face to face community in the classroom or sending young people to the real Israel, we may rightly question whether technology is enriching or diminishing the educational experience.

The response to this concern seems obvious: don’t let virtual experiences crowd out real ones. On a philosophical level, there are those who would challenge the entire notion of a distinction between “virtual” and “real” experiences – anything we experience, whether directly in front of us or on a screen in front of us is “real.” But we need not get enmeshed in philosophical debates in order to embrace the common sense wisdom that says that virtual and real experiences can and should be structured to complement one another. This is what good educators do, and what good learners seek.

Young people themselves seem to recognize that the "virtual" and the "real" need not be seen in opposition to one another. Lisa Colton cites a conversation on this topic with participants in a class on digital technology that was part of the Genesis program for teenagers:

We had a fascinating discussion about this at Brandeis this summer. I was amazed how the students saw this with 20/20 vision, but really pushed back on "what is real." Many said online steps led them to MORE in-person connections, and accused many adults of thinking about this in a shallow way. "We seek meaning just as much as you do -- we wouldn't be content just playing a stupid game all day -- we also want real relationships with people, we just have different ways of going about it." "People thought the phone was radical and "distancing" when it was invented, but no one questions it now!"

Education today needs to incorporate a wide range of experiences to do justice both to the diversity of learners and the variety and complexity of the content we want to encourage these learners to explore. There is no reason why virtual experiences should not be among these. Web sites and videos allow us to experience what is happening in Darfur in ways that reading or hearing about the devastation cannot match. We may even be able to respond meaningfully by signing an online petition or making an online donation. But, if we are concerned about hunger in our own communities, then serving in the local soup kitchen will likely be the most powerful educational experience we can offer. There is more to life than can be shown on a screen or piped through a headphone. We don’t know where technology will take us in the future – perhaps we will someday live much of our lives in virtual reality, as the cyberpunk novelists of the 1980s and ‘90s imagined. But, for the present and the immediate future, our concern should be less that the “virtual” will displace the “real” than that we will fail in both realms to provide the kind of compelling experiences that lead to meaningful learning.

Concern/Challenge #2: Technology undermines textual skills that are central to Jewish learning.

When Moslems labeled Jews “the People of the Book” they captured a profound insight about Jewish education. Judaism is an overwhelmingly verbal tradition (“these words shall be in your heart”), and the study and interpretation of written text has been the central feature of Jewish education for centuries. In recent years, some observers have asked: Is the growing use of technology making text and the study of text less central to Jewish learning? Are students failing to gain the skills and dispositions required for close analysis of text and, ultimately, for adding their own insights to the accumulating body of interpretation that constitutes Jewish tradition? In an age of rapid-fire stimulation and short attention spans, will learners have the patience to work through complex material, to read and wrestle with foundational texts?

These are not far-fetched questions. Developing the skills to study Jewish texts in a serious way requires both time and effort. Developing in students the motivation to do so is probably an equal or greater challenge. The modes of learning that technology encourages do not naturally reinforce a classical approach to Jewish education that places the intensive study of text at its center. The issue runs far deeper than just technology, and it is not Jewish education alone that is affected by the current culture that de-values text study in favor of other, more “dynamic” modes of learning. Nonetheless, the spread of technology seems both to invite a culture clash and to serve as a potential barrier to continuing the long tradition of text study that has been the hallmark of Jewish learning.

In fact, however, there is a widely noted irony here that may help us bridge the apparent gap between technology and text. Traditional Jewish texts and text study are already infused with many of the characteristics and sensibility of today’s communications technology. From the “hyper-text” page and abbreviations of the Talmud to the layering of commentaries on top of commentaries, Jewish text learning is itself a “non-linear” experience. Thoughtfully employed, technology can in fact be an enormous aid to traditional text study, facilitating the rapid cross-referencing of multiple sources that is essential to deriving maximal meaning from any given piece of text. Indeed, technology may even be able to make serious text study a more accessible, engaging, and rewarding experience for both students and teachers.

This does not mean that technology and the styles of learning it encourages cannot also be detriments to or diversions from serious text study. The question, as it is in nearly every instance, is how we choose to make use of technology and the capabilities it makes available. If technology does undermine textual learning, it is only because we have let it do so.

Concern/Challenge #3: Technology diminishes the role and authority of the teacher and contributes to the illusion that learning can be entirely self-directed.

Judaism places extraordinary value on teachers. We owe our teachers the same respect that we give parents, rulers, even God. We bend over backwards to give our teachers and our teachers’ teachers credit for whatever wisdom we might presume to pass on. At the same time, the ideal relationship between teacher and student is one of intimacy as well as respect. The teacher is our “rebbe,” not just in the sense of “master,” but someone we look to as a role model, a source of values as well as knowledge.

Does technology threaten this relationship? Even as it empowers learners, some fear that technology may disempower teachers. With Google and Wikipedia a mouse click away, do we still need or want to depend on the teacher as a source of knowledge? With the tools currently available, self-directed learning is easy and generally satisfying. Even children are getting used to doing more and more of their learning via computers. And, when we do seek out teachers, technology gives us many to choose from. We can see them on video and computer screens and listen to them on iPods. We can even interact with them without ever meeting them in person.

In truth, the role of teachers in both Jewish and general education has been changing since long before current technologies began to affect the classroom and beyond. Technology merely accelerates and will almost surely accelerate further the movement away from the teacher as an authoritative transmitter of knowledge (“the sage on the stage”) to the teacher as facilitator of student learning (“the guide on the side”). Increasingly, the role of teachers is not to dispense information, but to help learners find that information and make meaning from it. From a pedagogic standpoint this is a healthy transformation, as long as it does not delude us into believing that teachers are superfluous or that the relationships learners have with teachers are unimportant. In fact, we would argue that the metaphor of a "guide on the side" understates the potential role and impact that teachers can have, even in a technology-infused learning environment. A better description might be the teacher as "mentor at the center," helping to shape a powerful, authentic, and reflective learning experience for their students.

The challenge, again, is one of adapting to the new realities that technology makes possible and perhaps inevitable in ways that take advantage of its benefits without giving up precious elements of traditional values and practices. For teachers, this means embracing the role of counselor, guide, and exemplar and giving up claims to a priori authority. Information that can easily be accessed still needs to be assessed. Helping students to become discerning and responsible self-directed and collaborative learners is perhaps the definition of what teachers in the 21st century ought to be aspiring to do. This includes guiding students in the effective use of technology, but it also embraces cultivating dispositions and values that apply well beyond the technological realm. Ultimately, relationships – whether fostered face to face or electronically (which is harder, but not impossible) – remain central to sound learning. Technology may offer the illusion that solipsistic learning is possible, but experience quickly teaches that it is not.

We need not fear, therefore, that technology will eliminate teachers, or the “authority” that comes with being a trusted goad and guide for learners. The roles of teachers and the skills they need to play these roles effectively clearly are changing, however, and we must embrace, not avoid, the implications. If we do so, the payoff will be worth the effort. If we can help Jewish teachers take on new roles and acquire and employ new skills successfully, it should result in education that is not only attuned to our times, but that meets one of the core objectives of traditional Jewish study: motivating and equipping all students to become lifelong learners.

Concern/Challenge #4: Using technology effectively requires skills, time to learn them, and resources to make use of them that most Jewish educators simply do not have.

Contained within this last proposition is a big “if.” Can we, in fact, prepare a generation of educators who will be ready and able to make effective use of technology to advance Jewish learning? Some are skeptical.

Popular literature has made much of the supposed distinction between “digital immigrants” and “digital natives,” with most educators today -- both teachers and, perhaps especially, institutional leaders -- in the “immigrant” camp. The same applies, with possibly even more far-reaching effects, to community and national leaders, including funders, who often set the agenda and provide the resources for educational institutions, programs, and those who run and teach in them. The "immigrant-native" distinction may be exaggerated and one that time will in any case erase, but the reality is that there are numerous practical barriers to Jewish education’s taking full advantage of the potential of contemporary technology. Some of these do reflect the fact that many (most?) of today’s Jewish teachers and administrators are not well trained in how to use the variety of technologies available to enhance their work. Some are frankly uncomfortable with the entire arena, and especially with students who seem to be operating in alternate reality. Some want very much to take advantage of what technology can offer, but simply don’t know how. Regardless, there is a real gap here, and closing it will be difficult given the part-time nature of many educational positions, the relative paucity of professional development opportunities for Jewish educators generally, and the particular challenges inherent in adopting technologies that, as we have argued, profoundly change the ways in which Jewish learning and teaching are done.

These are systemic problems, not the fault of individual educators. So too is the underdeveloped state of applications of technology for Jewish education. Developing really outstanding and readily usable tools and resources to support learning requires significant investments of time, talent, and money. Jewish education has limited supplies of all of these, and a limited market to justify commercial investment. As a result, Jewish education frequently operates in “catch-up” mode when it comes to cutting edge implementations of technology for learning and teaching. There are a handful of exceptional examples, but they are relatively few and often lack the resources to fulfill their full potential.

These realities should temper any excesses of enthusiasm over the prospect of a rapid technology-driven revolution in Jewish education. There is a lot of work to do on the ground before the benefits lauded in this paper are realized on a broad scale. But, these are practical challenges, addressable through a combination of measured steps in professional training and application development and the increased investment needed to support these. The pace at which these steps are taken may be frustratingly slow for those who champion technology’s transformative potential. But, given the state of our society and the inevitability of technology’s continued penetration of every sector of human endeavor, Jewish education and educators will be carried along with the tide of change taking place. We can do much more to accelerate that process, and there is at least a reasonable chance that as more and more “digital natives” ascend to positions of influence within Jewish education and Jewish philanthropy, we will. Jewish education is not yet quite ready for the digital revolution, but the truth is: ready or not, it’s here.

Concern/Challenge #5: Technology encourages and facilitates ethically questionable behavior.

Spiderman reminds us that “with great power comes great responsibility.” As tools for communication have become more powerful, more personal, and more pervasive, we’ve learned that there’s a real risk of their misuse – to embarrass, to deceive, to damage. Education offers its own set of opportunities to approach or cross ethical boundaries. The web is a vast storehouse of information, and it doesn’t require downloading a finished paper from one of the sites that provide such a service to indulge in just a bit of hard-to-detect plagiarism. Stories, apocryphal or not, about students hacking school servers to steal tests or sharing answers via surreptitious texting point to the many new ways in which cheating can now be done.

Added to these are the broader ethical questions that come with today’s technology. For Jewish education, in which values play such a prominent role, questions about the privacy of communication, about lashon hara, about mocking or shaming another publicly, about creating false identities, or false images (photoshopping), cannot be peripheral. If we embrace technology to enrich our teaching and learning, don’t we also have to try to ensure that students learn how to use that technology in ethically sensitive and responsible ways?

Surely, the answer is yes. Happily, the ethical dimensions of technology use are beginning to be addressed in Jewish forums. But, it is not clear that this discussion has become a routine part of Jewish educational discourse. As technologies evolve and their use continues to grow, it is likely that additional ethical questions will arise. Jewish education must be prepared to deal with these directly if its budding romance with technology is not to undermine its own mission.

We have cited these concerns and challenges because responding to them should be part of the process underway in which Jewish education is slowly but surely absorbing new technologies into its practice. They remind us that the benefits of technology are not free, not free monetarily, and also not free in terms of exempting us from having to think deeply about the implications of the new toys and tools we have been given. It makes no sense to exaggerate the concerns – in each case there are responses that can minimize the potential damage – but neither should we proceed naively or willfully to ignore them.

The bottom line remains the same: The future is here, and we need to be prepared to meet it – imaginatively, determinedly, but also thoughtfully and realistically.