ICT

1 April 2006

In Ray Bradbury's apocalyptic tale "Fahrenheit 451" firemen are employed to burn all books, driving underground all those who cherish them. That such a stark warning of what happens in a bookless society should appear in the very medium made illicit in the tale is an irony not lost on his readers.

We return Bradbury's book to the shelf alongside the Orwell, Huxley and Atwell, safe in the comforting knowledge that we are far too wise in the real world to allow anything of such magnitude to happen. Surely before any major change to our society becomes a reality there will always be referenda, debate in parliament, media coverage and discussion everywhere? Besides, aren't there experts at the highest level currently considering the ethical dimensions of genetic engineering, of alternative fuels, of identity cards and of cloning? What then is there to fear?

Some of us in education, however, share a growing discomfort with the relentless, unchallenged inclusion of ICT into our schools and thus into the lives of the young. But, rather like those book lovers in Bradbury's tale, we are almost afraid to raise a word of opposition. There is a pervading belief at large that ICT will solve all classroom ills, will "personalise" learning, and will lead to higher standards of literacy and numeracy, in ways no human ever could. It is difficult to argue with such powerful aims.

Books are passé we are told; schools were only ever convenient centres where students could access available materials. Now a bungalow in Australia can service the learning needs of 90,000 "Moogle" aficionados. We must think outside the traditions: teachers will soon morph into facilitators in a virtual classroom's sound-bite superhighway.

Everywhere, at each national and international educational conference, at every Whitehall think tank, are those gurus of technology, mostly young and male, all promising educational Nirvana with a religious zeal. They speak a special language not always understood by the older people in power whom they seek to persuade and whose coffers these experts target so persuasively.

Meanwhile, at the Dfes innovation unit, the imminent Head-teacher shortage has been neatly resolved. ICT to the rescue! It's simple. Appoint a "Superhead" electronically linked to a group of affiliated schools. From CCTV screens in all corridors and classrooms this distant demigod can then address thousands of pupils at once. And the technology exists already for full interactive dialogue from that screen. Sounds familiar? It was the world of Winston Smith, of course.

Now at this point I should come clean .I'm no luddite: I believe ICT is an exceptionally clever tool. My laptop and palmtop are an invaluable part of my working life, and I make sure all my pupils leave with a first-rate understanding of what ICT can do.

But I question the vision of those who advocate a future without schools, without teachers, without books. Where is there the serious debate on the desirability of so much technology in our schools? Who is asking where it will stop?

Does the eventual replacement of teachers by ever-smaller, affordable machines not have as great a long term repercussion on society as genetic engineering? Are our elected leaders so enchanted by the visuals on offer, so indoctrinated by the mantras, so embarrassed at times by their own technological incompetence that they are failing to ask the most basic of questions, namely:  Just because it is possible does it mean we should do it?

Where is the evidence, for example, that proves a machine will teach literature any better than my English department? Have we as a society debated and decided that it will no longer matter how children write and spell, since all examinations will be on line soon, with the spell checks in place for the multiple choice answers required. Who monitors the desirability of all these decisions? Were parents asked if they wanted their children to spend hours in front of a screen each day?

It is a matter of a few years before the "virtual school" will be accessed from a child's bedroom. When did you last hear a politician discuss the dangers of such a potentially isolating social development? Now is the time to ask, to challenge the concept of this Emperor's new clothes.

The best lessons come from inspired individuals passionate about their subjects. ICT can enhance and support, but we fool ourselves if we believe it will ever replace the rigour and the magic of face-to-face interaction. I'll bet all those advocating the onslaught of technology in schools were themselves inspired by an individual, someone who took them out of what was prescribed, or beyond what could have been readily available in a computer programme. Machines are one step removed from passion. Facts may be acquired swiftly on-line, and shallow learning is quick and easy to assess. Deep learning, or the power and serendipity of robust debate, and a wisdom which lasts for life all come much more slowly, and I have yet to access the computer programme where they lie.

I know I am not alone in my concerns. Others abhor the paucity of public debate about where ICT is taking education. We owe it to the next generations to at least consider the wisdom of such developments. It could well be an area where independent schools, able to select an alternative means for delivery of the curriculum, stand firm in the belief that machines assist but never replace teachers, that the actual social experience of going to school matters, not just the way a child has access to a curriculum whilst there.     

Bradbury's is a book to revisit, as we hurtle into this techno-future. His rebellious outcasts "become" books at the end, each committing to memory a favourite text and reciting it continuously. I've chosen mine already, just in case....