William Pflaum article

Technology vision statements describe the big picture – the view from 10,000 feet. From that distance the gritty details are undetectable.

I didn’t want to start with the big picture. I wanted a street-level view of school technology. I wanted to see close up what kids actually did with school computers; I wanted to quietly observe the details as kids used or didn’t use computers and to listen attentively to teachers’ hopes, anxieties, successes, and frustrations.

I was curious about something: Why, with all the resources that have been spent on school computers, do the measurable results appear to be so meager?

For twenty years computers have been essential to my life. My first was a very early Apple, followed by a succession of long-gone makes and models: Kaypro, TRS-80, Commodore, IBM jr and more.

I was a typical early adopter. I was a believer; and I still am. But my faith in the computer’s transformative role in schools faltered several years ago. Was I naïve in my enthusiasm for what I thought computers could bring to classrooms, swept up in the hopes and rhetoric of the 90s?

Certainly that was a part of it, but in my own life I had solid evidence of the transformative impact of computers. Didn’t I use my computers to research; to write; to exchange instant messages with my sons in Boston and San Francisco; to listen to music and sports; to trace genealogies; to order air line tickets and reserve cars and hotel rooms; and to buy books, clothes and more computers?

This is powerful technology. Why, then, did I have this nagging sense that computers proved nearly powerless to effect measurable classroom learning? If there was failure, was it the technology, the implementation, or were other constraints at play?

I took this issue personally. For two decades I had helped manage the development of educational software for home and classroom. That started in the early 80s with reading and math programs for the TRS-80 and has continued through the creation of Internet-delivered textbooks, assessments, and activities. These were good materials, always state of the art. But I had this suspicion that they, and thousands more programs flooding classrooms, just didn’t make much difference in student performance.

How, I wondered, could governments, publishers, and schools spend billions on technology and have so little to show for it? I’d read the literature on major studies like West Virginia’s and many narrower studies conducted across the country. The evidence of technology’s impact was not convincing and was not reflected in SAT, ACT, or NAEP scores which have remained nearly static.

I could have read more studies, listened to visionaries painting pictures of a new world ahead, or waited for that new world to appear. But I didn’t want to wait. I was 62 after all. It took twenty years of computer technology to get this far. Twenty more years and I mightn’t be around to learn the answer . . . or learn whether the question was even relevant.

I decided to take a sabbatical to study the matter. For the first few months I read widely in journals, books, and on line. I engaged a university prof who taught graduate seminars in learning theory to guide my reading.

I visited several major universities where I met with theorists and practitioners, but most of my study took place in elementary, middle and high school classrooms. That is where I sat, watched, listened and took notes on what I saw and heard. I looked at little things, not all directly related to technology. At the end of each day, I transferred the notes to my computer.

Most of the schools I visited did not wear blue ribbons. I didn’t want to spend my time with technology superstars. That would skew my observations. Instead I sought a cross section of average schools: urban, suburban, rural; rich, poor, and in between. I sought a geographic and socioeconomic cross section and visited schools in Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Pennsylvania, North Carolina, Georgia, Ohio and northern and southern California.

It wasn’t a perfect geographic cross section, but this study wasn’t for publication. It was for me. I had no plans to write a book or publish my thoughts and conclusions in a magazine, a Web site, or blog. Besides, I had never written a book and had only published a couple of articles in obscure journals for school administrators. This was to be my own, self-indulgent effort to satisfy a curiosity. I had no ax to grind, no position to defend, no economic ground to protect.

Sure, I had my biases. Computers have meant a lot to me, so I was puzzled why they seemed to make no measurable difference in schools. If I published my observations and conclusions, I expected that technological skeptics would consider me naïve and technology evangelists wouldn’t believe my neutrality.

So what did I see, hear, and conclude, and what have I recommended as a result? That’s too much for this article, but can be found in detail in The Technology Fix, published by the Association for Supervision and Curriculum Development (ASCD). In brief, I found some things that will surprise no one:

I came to other conclusions, none of which will surprise those familiar with school dynamics. However, other things I saw were less predictable: for example:

These are generalities. In The Technology Fix I get into specifics. I report on teachers who said things like...

An answer to my question about measurable results is in the book as well, but I recognize that the complex issue of computer use allows no simple answers. Segments of the book are on line at the ASCD Web site , including my opening disclaimer (the book is politically incorrect, relying on anecdote and opinion, not quantitative data), an introductory chapter (some ideas from which are in this article), and two chapters with close-up descriptions of school visits. Also on line is a chapter-by-chapter teaching guide should the book be used in pre-service or in-service courses.

I’ve not, I realize, explained why I wrote a book when I said I wouldn’t. A friend who is an experienced field geologist convinced me that I should preserve my notes; to her they were a type of data, a record of a slice in time. As I cleaned them up, a book started to emerge. If you read the book, or the on-line segments, let me know if I’d have done better to spend my nights and weekends painting the walls of my house, which need it badly. If you have questions or comments, write me at wdpflaum@ix.netcom.com

(To read more from William Pflaum get a copy of his book....

Pflaum, William D. (2004). The Technology Fix: The Promise and Reality of Computers in Our Schools. Alexandria, VA: Association for Supervision and Curriculum Development.)


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The Technology Fix: The Promise and Reality of Computers in Our Schools By Willam Pflaum Technology vision statements describe the big picture – the view from 10,000 feet. From that distance the gritty details are undetectable. I didn’t want to start with the big picture. I wanted a street-level view of school technology. I wanted to see close up what kids actually did with school computers; I wanted to quietly observe the details as kids used or didn’t use computers and to listen attentively to teachers’ hopes, anxieties, successes, and frustrations. I was curious about something: Why, with all the resources that have been spent on school computers, do the measurable results appear to be so meager? For twenty years computers have been essential to my life. My first was a very early Apple, followed by a succession of long-gone makes and models: Kaypro, TRS-80, Commodore, IBM jr and more. I was a typical early adopter. I was a believer; and I still am. But my faith in the computer’s transformative role in schools faltered several years ago. Was I naïve in my enthusiasm for what I thought computers could bring to classrooms, swept up in the hopes and rhetoric of the 90s? Certainly that was a part of it, but in my own life I had solid evidence of the transformative impact of computers. Didn’t I use my computers to research; to write; to exchange instant messages with my sons in Boston and San Francisco; to listen to music and sports; to trace genealogies; to order air line tickets and reserve cars and hotel rooms; and to buy books, clothes and more computers? This is powerful technology. Why, then, did I have this nagging sense that computers proved nearly powerless to effect measurable classroom learning? If there was failure, was it the technology, the implementation, or were other constraints at play? I took this issue personally. For two decades I had helped manage the development of educational software for home and classroom. That started in the early 80s with reading and math programs for the TRS-80 and has continued through the creation of Internet-delivered textbooks, assessments, and activities. These were good materials, always state of the art. But I had this suspicion that they, and thousands more programs flooding classrooms, just didn’t make much difference in student performance. How, I wondered, could governments, publishers, and schools spend billions on technology and have so little to show for it? I’d read the literature on major studies like West Virginia’s and many narrower studies conducted across the country. The evidence of technology’s impact was not convincing and was not reflected in SAT, ACT, or NAEP scores which have remained nearly static. I could have read more studies, listened to visionaries painting pictures of a new world ahead, or waited for that new world to appear. But I didn’t want to wait. I was 62 after all. It took twenty years of computer technology to get this far. Twenty more years and I mightn’t be around to learn the answer . . . or learn whether the question was even relevant. I decided to take a sabbatical to study the matter. For the first few months I read widely in journals, books, and on line. I engaged a university prof who taught graduate seminars in learning theory to guide my reading. I visited several major universities where I met with theorists and practitioners, but most of my study took place in elementary, middle and high school classrooms. That is where I sat, watched, listened and took notes on what I saw and heard. I looked at little things, not all directly related to technology. At the end of each day, I transferred the notes to my computer. Most of the schools I visited did not wear blue ribbons. I didn’t want to spend my time with technology superstars. That would skew my observations. Instead I sought a cross section of average schools: urban, suburban, rural; rich, poor, and in between. I sought a geographic and socioeconomic cross section and visited schools in Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Pennsylvania, North Carolina, Georgia, Ohio and northern and southern California. It wasn’t a perfect geographic cross section, but this study wasn’t for publication. It was for me. I had no plans to write a book or publish my thoughts and conclusions in a magazine, a Web site, or blog. Besides, I had never written a book and had only published a couple of articles in obscure journals for school administrators. This was to be my own, self-indulgent effort to satisfy a curiosity. I had no ax to grind, no position to defend, no economic ground to protect. Sure, I had my biases. Computers have meant a lot to me, so I was puzzled why they seemed to make no measurable difference in schools. If I published my observations and conclusions, I expected that technological skeptics would consider me naïve and technology evangelists wouldn’t believe my neutrality. So what did I see, hear, and conclude, and what have I recommended as a result? That’s too much for this article, but can be found in detail in The Technology Fix, published by the Association for Supervision and Curriculum Development (ASCD). In brief, I found some things that will surprise no one: •Technology is a tool; in the hands of an experienced teacher, it can work wonders; the teacher is essential; without a teacher’s understanding and involvement, it doesn’t work. That can be said of other instructional tools as well, like books, lab equipment, whiteboards, calculators, or overhead projectors. • Strong leadership from the school principal is essential for effective computer use in a school; without the principal’s active support, computer use will be fragmented and largely inconsequential. • Standards and assessment drive financial and curriculum decisions today; to receive continued financial support, computer technology must serve the standards movement and support improved test performance. I came to other conclusions, none of which will surprise those familiar with school dynamics. However, other things I saw were less predictable: for example: • Computers as instructional tools are inefficient and uneconomical for the majority of students; they are better used as testing devices, productivity tools, Internet portals or data processors. • The demand that all students have equal access to computers has diluted their impact; though difficult to carry out, computer use would be better focused on the needs of those students who will benefit most. • Computers may deliver the most benefit to students at the low end of the performance curve. These are generalities. In The Technology Fix I get into specifics. I report on teachers who said things like... • ”When technology saves me time, then come see me.” • “I love these kids. That box [computer] doesn’t love these kids.” • “Computers in the future will be very different from what we have today. We can’t get caught up in the mechanics.” And administrators told me, • “We immerse kids in technology, but the missing piece is, how do we know that kids are learning?’ (district superintendent) • “I have a school full of computers that the district won’t support.” (elementary school principal) • “Take away the computers and there is no reason for our kids to be here.” (principal of technology magnet high school) An answer to my question about measurable results is in the book as well, but I recognize that the complex issue of computer use allows no simple answers. Segments of the book are on line at the ASCD Web site , including my opening disclaimer (the book is politically incorrect, relying on anecdote and opinion, not quantitative data), an introductory chapter (some ideas from which are in this article), and two chapters with close-up descriptions of school visits. Also on line is a chapter-by-chapter teaching guide should the book be used in pre-service or in-service courses. I’ve not, I realize, explained why I wrote a book when I said I wouldn’t. A friend who is an experienced field geologist convinced me that I should preserve my notes; to her they were a type of data, a record of a slice in time. As I cleaned them up, a book started to emerge. If you read the book, or the on-line segments, let me know if I’d have done better to spend my nights and weekends painting the walls of my house, which need it badly. If you have questions or comments, write me at wdpflaum@ix.netcom.com (To read more from William Pflaum get a copy of his book.... Pflaum, William D. (2004). The Technology Fix: The Promise and Reality of Computers in Our Schools. Alexandria, VA: Association for Supervision and Curriculum Development.) • Previous Articles