No, Tech Leaders Aren’t Keeping Their Kids From Learning With Technology

We often hear that leaders in the technology industry kept their own children away from technology. There is truth to that claim, but it leaves out the most important distinction. Many limited phones, social media, non-educational games and passive entertainment at home. They did not limit technology used to code, research, create, collaborate or access learning.

Rules about phones at dinner, devices in bedrooms and endless scrolling are not evidence against school laptops used for purposeful learning. We have confused limits on social and recreational technology with limits on instructional technology.

What Tech Leaders Actually Limited

The examples are mostly about home life: Bill Gates delayed phones and barred them at meals. Tim Cook opposed social media for his nephew. Steve Jobs limited technology at home. Susan Wojcicki restricted phones and unrestricted YouTube.

None of that demonstrates opposition to students using technology to learn. A Columbia Journalism Review analysis found that media coverage repeatedly stretched ordinary family boundaries in the home into claims that technology insiders wanted “the least tech” for their children. The parents featured in those stories were intentional about how tech was used and often encouraged technology use for learning even when the headlines suggested otherwise.

Ali Partovi, founder of iLike and cofounder of Code.org, made the distinction clearly in the original coverage. He separated time spent consuming from time spent creating and compared digital creation to painting, playing piano or writing. “I think it’s absurd to limit her time spent creating computer art, editing video, or computer programming,” he told The New York Times.

Affluent families also have more resources to replace recreational screen time with tutors, caregivers, travel, sports, music lessons and other enrichment. Removing technology from public schools does not create those opportunities. Without additional people, programs and experiences, it simply removes a resource.

Many Benefited From Early Access

In 1968, the Lakeside School Mothers Club paid for access to a computer terminal when few schools offered anything comparable. Bill Gates used it to play, experiment, program and solve real problems. Gates called the terminal his first opportunity to learn about computers. That access helped put them on the path to Microsoft.

Mark Zuckerberg began programming around sixth grade. His parents noticed his interest, hired a tutor and gave him the guidance and time to explore a talent.

They had time to experiment, make mistakes and persist. That rarely fits an arbitrary time block.

What Tech Leaders Encourage Their Own Children to Do

The reality is that these leaders encourage their own children to use technology with intention because it is often the best tool available for learning.

Peter Diamandis says he is teaching his twin teenage sons to be curious, find a purpose and use AI to go deeply into subjects they care about. He distinguishes between superficial AI use and genuine exploration.

Even the recent New York Times piece that renewed this narrative contains counterexamples. Mark Zuckerberg says his eight-year-old can code her ideas and produce videos, and that they use AI together while baking. Evan Spiegel limits phones and passive entertainment for his younger children but says his 15-year-old is “all-in on technology.” These are age- and activity-based limits, not a rejection of technology for learning.

Elon Musk created Ad Astra for his five children and a small group of SpaceX families. It rejected grade levels and standardized instruction, not technology, offering a Mac laptop to every student along with robotics, chemistry and hands-on problem solving. It was elite and experimental, but certainly not no-tech.

Even Waldorf Uses Technology Intentionally

The Waldorf School of the Peninsula is often presented as proof that tech families reject screens. It is one small, elite private school, not representative evidence. Its low-tech model also replaces textbook- and test-driven instruction with small classes, arts, gardening, field trips and hands-on learning. With tuition ranging from $34,900 to $47,500, most public schools cannot replicate it.

Even Waldorf does not reject technology. Students study computer science, algorithms, hardware and large language models, while its robotics team builds and programs robots. The school says students should use technology as creators rather than consumers. That is intentional technology use.

Stop Counting All Screen Time as Equal

This distinction matters when schools treat evidence for phone and social media restrictions as justification for limiting all technology. A student scrolling through videos and a student coding an app may spend the same time on a screen. That does not make the activities educationally equivalent.

I support phone-free classrooms, age-appropriate social media restrictions and limits on addictive platforms and passive consumption. I also support evaluating which technologies provide meaningful learning, protect privacy and give students and teachers agency to choose the features and settings that work best for them. Teachers and students should decide when technology is the right tool for effective, accessible learning. Those positions do not conflict.

We should stop asking only, “How much screen time?” and start asking the kinds of questions technology leaders like Ali Partovi are actually asking: “What are students doing, and is it worth doing?” 

Why Elementary Students Need Access to Screens

Just as schools are preparing to open, New York City is putting new limits on technology use. As reported in The New York Times and Chalkbeat, there will be no individual screens before third grade and recommended caps on screen time for grades 3 - 8.

I understand where this is coming from. Students need to talk, play, move, build, draw, read, write, collaborate, and interact with teachers and classmates. Students should not spend their days sitting at desks consuming information and doing rote work, but taking away individual screens is not the same thing as improving learning.

As I wrote recently in Screen Time Is the Wrong Unit of Measurement, the problem with screen-time rules is that they measure the device rather than what students are doing with it. That's particularly problematic with young children because sometimes the screen is the thing giving a child access to learning.

Sometimes the screen is an accessibility tool

Think about what an individual device can provide: text-to-speech, speech-to-text, enlarged text, captions, adjustable text, dictionaries, audio, translation, and access through a refreshable braille display. For some students, these aren't extras. They're how they access learning.

Accessibility also extends beyond students with an official disability designation. A child learning English may need translation. A struggling reader may benefit from hearing a word or passage while following along. Another child may need larger text. If a student needs one of those supports before third grade, an individual-screen restriction becomes more complicated.

Another concern is that students who need screens may become stigmatized. We may also end up testing and labeling students who were learning successfully with built-in accessibility features simply so they can regain access to those supports. Technology can meet many learning needs without requiring a disability classification. Remove the technology, and the analog environment may turn a learning difference into a labeled disability.

Technology can help children learn to read

There's also an assumption in some of these discussions that screens and literacy are in opposition. The research is much more nuanced. A large systematic review comparing children's reading on paper and digital devices found that no difference was the most common result. Print had advantages in some circumstances. Digital had advantages in others, including vocabulary, engagement, and support for diverse learners. Knowing which platform is best for the learning goal is key.

I've seen the potential firsthand with Footsteps2Brilliance, an early literacy program. Research I’ve shared about the program has found strong literacy outcomes when young children use it consistently. What is best for students is using what works for the child and the learning goal, not dictating the platform. 

Sometimes the screen is the library

A laptop or tablet isn't just a screen. It can be a child's personal library. Young children should have physical books and access to digital ones. However, a classroom has only so much shelf space and providing books at all reading levels and languages is not practical. Digital libraries can provide thousands of additional choices along with features that paper can't easily provide. Students can enlarge the text, hear or define an unfamiliar word, translate something, or listen to a book while following along.

Access to learning by providing more books in more formats is something we should be expanding, not restricting.

Individual screens also make individualization possible

Elementary classrooms don't contain children who all read at the same level, learn at the same pace, speak the same language, or need the same supports. Technology can help with that. Tools such as Newsela can provide content at different reading levels while students explore the same topic. The student sitting next to them doesn't need to know which version they're reading. That's not just differentiation. That's dignity.

Technology can also provide additional practice, immediate feedback, audio, translation, and other supports while the teacher works with individual students or small groups. A teacher can't simultaneously rewrite every text at five reading levels, translate it into several languages, read it aloud at different speeds, and provide individual feedback to every student. Technology can.

Who should decide?

There's another problem with blanket restrictions. They take decisions about learning away from the people closest to the learning: teachers and students.

Teachers know their students. They should have the expertise to know when a device is helping a child and when it's getting in the way. Students also know things about how they learn that policymakers sitting far from the classroom don't.

One student may benefit from listening to a book while another does better with the print version. A student may discover that enlarging text helps them concentrate or that hearing a word helps them understand it. Another may be better off putting the device away because pen and paper works best.

Those are learning decisions. There will be times when young students should put the screen away, and there will be times when that screen gives a child access, choice, independence, or a better way to learn. A blanket policy making those decisions in advance puts agency in the wrong hands.

We should give teachers and students guidance for making good choices about technology, then trust them to make those choices.

Stop Romanticizing School Before Screens

A recent Gothamist article reports on a bill introduced by Sen. Andrew Gounardes known as the Fostering Optimal Classroom Use of Screens (FOCUS) Act. It would push New York classrooms to become more analog and limit technology use in schools.

I understand the concern. Too much school tech has been poorly used. We have digital worksheets, screen-based test prep, low-quality apps, privacy issues, surveillance tools, and students clicking through tasks that were not meaningful in the first place.

But “make classrooms analog again” is the wrong answer.

The problem is not that school became too digital. Digital is a scapegoat for the real problem. Too often school was boring, passive, and disconnected long before students had smartphones, laptops, or AI. Technology gave students a place to turn when the classroom was not stimulating or relevant enough. 

I know because I was one of those students. I played the game of school, but I was checked out. Sometimes I was asleep. Usually I was just waiting for class to be over.

There is a myth that students paid attention before screens. Many of us who were in school then might disagree. Like me, students slept in class, daydreamed, stared out windows, doodled, passed notes, and whispered to friends. These actions may feel more human than digital distractions, but they served the same purpose: connection, humor, disengagement, or escape when class was not meaningful enough to hold attention.

This is not a new argument for me. Years ago, in Fix Boring Schools, Not Kids Who Are Bored, I wrote about students who were labeled distracted, hyperactive, or inattentive when the real issue was that school was not engaging them. I had lived that myself. I was labeled as incapable but after extensive testing at UCLA’s Fernald Child Study Center my diagnosis was boredom in school. The resolution having me skip a grade and placing me in a more challenging environment. 

We keep confusing compliance with learning. Sitting still is not engagement. A classroom without phones is not automatically a classroom where students are thinking. The nostalgia is also about achievement. There is a version of this story that suggests students were smarter, stronger readers, better writers, and more successful before they had access to screens. That does not hold up cleanly.

The data does not give us the neat story some want. NAEP long-term trend data shows a more complicated picture. Nine-year-olds in 2025 scored higher in reading and math than students did in the earliest assessments from the 1970s. Thirteen-year-olds in 2025 scored higher in math than in 1973, while reading was not significantly different from 1971. The status dropout rate was 15.0 percent in 1970 and 5.0 percent in 2022. The “students did better before screens” argument needs evidence, not vibes.

For decades, schools operated as if they had a monopoly on information and attention. The teacher had the lesson. The textbook had the content. The teacher’s guide had the correct answers. Students were expected to sit, receive, remember, and repeat.

That world is gone.

Students are no longer limited to the answer in the back of the book. They can access explanations, tutorials, experts, communities, and AI-supported help in seconds. The most valuable person in the room is no longer the one with the answer key. It is the one who helps students ask better questions, evaluate information, connect ideas, solve problems, and create something meaningful with what they learn.

A return to paper is the easy way out for adults, but it is not a serious learning strategy by itself. A worksheet does not become better because it is online. And it does not become better because it is back on paper. If the work is passive or meaningless, the format is not the fix. 

This is what I argued in Reverting to Pen & Paper Won’t Improve Learning. Better Learning Design Will and Laptops Did Not Take Away Their Brains. The School Model Did. The problem was never the device. The problem was the model built around it.

Yes, schools should stop buying every shiny platform a vendor sells. They should address privacy, surveillance, addictive design, and passive screen use. But a pencil is not automatically better than a keyboard. A printed book is not automatically more meaningful than an accessible digital text. A screen-free classroom is not automatically a better classroom.

This matters even more for accessibility. If learning is not digital, it is not fully accessible, translatable, or readable for a student who needs text enlarged, listened to, adjusted, organized, or supported. Exemptions are not the same as inclusion.

The better question is not how many minutes a student looked at a screen. The better question is what the student was doing. Were they doing low level activities such as completing digital worksheets, or were they doing more valuable learning activities such as interviewing someone, producing a podcast, analyzing data, translating materials, publishing writing, building a model, or collaborating beyond the classroom? Different activities have different learning value and that matters more than time on a screen. 

Strong learning models existed long before today’s devices. In 5 Innovative School Models You Might Not Know, I wrote about approaches that put students, interests, strengths, and authentic work at the center. Tools should support that kind of learning.

Bad edtech is a real problem. The answer is not to get rid of all tech. It’s to evaluate the tools. Privacy is a real problem. So improve privacy protections. AI misuse is a problem. So teach AI literacy and responsible use. But don’t pretend paper magically fixes school. 

Children need movement, conversation, play, collaboration, hands-on work, outdoor learning, art, music, reading, writing, and relationships. They also need to learn in a world where technology is real.

The answer is not to “make classrooms analog again.” The better response is to make classrooms meaningful again, with learning worth paying attention to.

Don’t Make This Mistake When Presenting

We've all seen it happen.

A speaker gets to the front of the room and suddenly everything stops. The screen is dark. The audio does not work. The laptop needs an update. No one knows the WiFi password. Someone is searching for the right adapter.

The audience waits. The speaker stalls. Someone calls for “the tech person.” Everyone acts like this is just part of presenting.

It should not be.

The bring-your-own-device model turns public speaking into a technical gamble. Each new presenter brings a different laptop, a different charger, a different adapter, different settings, and different problems.

That is not a presenter problem. It is a room design problem.

In my latest Tech & Learning article, The Presentation Station Should Belong to the Space, Not the Speaker, I make the case for a better model: the presentation station should belong to the room.

That means the host provides one dedicated room device that is already connected, tested, and ready before the speaker steps up. The internet works. The display works. The audio works. The agenda and materials are in the cloud. Access is simple.

This is not about being fancy or high-tech. It is about reducing failure points so presenters can focus on their message and participants can focus on learning.

The article also includes a simple checklist for schools, districts, conference organizers, and event hosts who want presentation spaces that are connected, tested, accessible, and ready to go.

Read the full piece in Tech & Learning:
The Presentation Station Should Belong to the Space, Not the Speaker

Devices Down is the Wrong Goal

The AFT’s new 10-point plan, “Devices Down, Eyes Up, Hands-On,” gets some things right. Students do need more active, human, hands-on learning. They need career-connected experiences, civic engagement, collaboration, movement, and opportunities to solve real problems.

But the “devices down” frame points schools in the wrong direction.

The problem is not the device. The problem is passive learning, poor infrastructure, weak support, and policies that confuse classroom management with meaningful instruction.

In my latest piece, Devices Down Is the Wrong Goal, I respond to each of the AFT’s 10 points and explain where the plan gets it right, where it falls short, and why preparing students for the future means teaching them when technology helps, when it gets in the way, and how to use appropriate tools well.

Sometimes devices should be down.

Other times, devices should be up.

The goal is not more technology or less technology. The goal is better learning. 

Webinar: Why Digital Well-Being Must Be at the Center of AI in Schools

As schools move from talking about artificial intelligence to actually using it, the real challenge is not just access. It is building the conditions for technology use that is thoughtful, supportive, and responsible. That means clear expectations, strong partnerships, coordinated staff support, and a culture where educators feel confident and students are protected.

This Brisk Innovators webinar explores what that looks like in practice and how, as district leaders, my colleagues and I are approaching digital well-being as a foundation for responsible AI use in schools. You can check it out on the Brisk webinar page.

Reverting to Pen & Paper Won’t Improve Learning. Better Learning Design Will.

Some educators believe that better learning occurs when we remove laptops and go back to pen and paper.

But that raises an important question. Are we confusing easier classroom management with better learning?

In my latest Tech & Learning column, I explore why blaming laptops for declining learning outcomes misses the bigger issue. The problem was never the devices. It was the learning model we built around them.

The article examines why the paper vs. screens debate is often misunderstood, why arguments about the “primary use” of technology oversimplify learning, and why schools must help students learn to manage attention, choose the right tools for the task, and operate responsibly in a digital world.

It also looks at how this same debate is already emerging again with AI.

Read the full article at Tech & Learning. 

Could the Future of AI Reconnect Us to What Mattered Most?

Much of the conversation around artificial intelligence (AI) is framed in fear. White-collar professionals are increasingly anxious about AI replacing cognitive work once thought untouchable, a concern captured in The Atlantic’s piece on the worst-case future for white-collar workers. Blue-collar workers have their own version of this fear as employers test automation that shows up in the real world as robots and drones doing physical jobs once reserved for people, including delivery and warehouse work, like Amazon’s reported testing of humanoid delivery robots.

The anxiety is real. But what if we are asking the wrong question?

Instead of asking how we preserve jobs as they exist today, what if we ask whether working less might actually be progress?

We have changed the work week before. In the late 1800s, industrial workers routinely labored 60 to 70 hours per week. The 40-hour work week was not inevitable. It was the result of labor organizing and policy reform, as documented by the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics.

Now imagine this: because of AI-enabled automation, your employer tells you that you no longer need to work 40 hours a week to earn the same pay.

That sounds radical, but the idea of a shorter workweek is not new. In 1930, economist John Maynard Keynes argued that technological advances could eventually make a 15-hour workweek realistic, leaving society with a different challenge: how to use all that newfound freedom well, an idea he explored in Economic Possibilities for our Grandchildren.

And the redesign continues. The UK four-day workweek pilot found that most companies maintained reduced hours after the trial ended, with improved well-being and stable productivity. In Iceland, public-sector trials reducing work hours without cutting pay showed similar results: productivity held steady or improved, and worker well-being increased.

Reducing work hours did not collapse those economies. In many cases, it strengthened them.

So what if AI reducing the number of hours required to sustain society is not a crisis, but a correction?

Back to What We Once Had Without Going Backward

For much of the 20th century, many families lived on one income. One parent worked outside the home, and the other had more time for caregiving and community life.

That model was imperfect. It was rigid. It was often inequitable. It was not equally accessible across race and class. But it did provide something we are chronically short on today: time. Time scarcity is now one of the defining pressures of modern life.

Over time, dual-income households became the norm. Consumer culture expanded. Work hours expanded. Our cost of living expanded with it.

In How Consumerism Co-Opted Feminism to Reshape Work and Family Life, I explore how economic forces reshaped family life in ways we now assume are natural. They are not.

If AI reduces the hours required to earn a living, we have an opportunity to design something healthier this time. Not a return to rigid gender roles, but a future where adults work fewer hours, shared caregiving becomes normal, time with children is not squeezed into evenings, and community is not optional. Technology could make that possible.

Less Work Could Mean Better Health

More than 40 percent of U.S. adults meet the criteria for obesity, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) adult obesity data.

This is not primarily a nutrition problem. It is a time problem.

Long workdays compress everything else in life. Cooking becomes optional. Sleep becomes negotiable. Movement becomes aspirational. When time pressure decreases, health improves.

More discretionary hours could mean walking instead of rushing, cooking instead of ordering, and growing food at home or in community gardens that strengthen both nutrition and social ties.

AI does not just increase productivity. It reduces the human hours required to generate output. That time matters. Fewer work hours can mean more movement, better food, deeper rest, and healthier daily rhythms.

If Work Shrinks, Income Must Stabilize

Of course, this only works if productivity gains are shared.

For years, the discussion centered on universal basic income, a guaranteed baseline payment to every citizen. Peter Diamandis explored this in “free money, no strings attached”, arguing that exponential technologies make such models increasingly plausible.

But the conversation has shifted. Today, some technologists speak of universal stable income or even universal high income, language that reflects a move from scarcity to abundance. The Mosaic model proposes one framework for ensuring that when automation dramatically increases productivity, citizens participate in the upside.

This is not theoretical. Sam Altman’s OpenResearch unconditional cash study found that unconditional cash improved recipients’ financial well-being and ability to weather shocks, including more stable month-to-month spending, modest gains in credit outcomes, and increased savings in the early years. It also found that recipients remained engaged with work, with higher rates of job searching and applications, even as average hours worked dipped slightly.

If AI replaces large categories of labor, it strengthens the argument that efficiency gains should not accrue to a small fraction of society. They should be distributed through wages, reduced hours, and income guarantees. Income stability does not eliminate work. It prevents disruption from becoming collapse.

Stability creates freedom. Freedom creates time. Time creates space for purpose.

A Question for Education Leaders

For those of us in education, this conversation matters.

If the economy requires fewer traditional work hours, how do we prepare students? For nonstop competition, or for meaningful lives?

If abundance becomes technologically possible, schools cannot continue preparing students exclusively for scarcity. They must prepare students to use time well. That means cultivating creativity, civic engagement, health, collaboration, and judgment, not just résumé optimization.

Working Less and the Return to What Matters

For generations, long hours have been equated with virtue. But meaning does not require exhaustion.

Most of what makes life rich is not a job title. It is family, health, learning, service, creativity, and connection.

A reduction in the work required to sustain society does not have to signal collapse. It could signal maturity. We once fought to reduce 70-hour workweeks to 40. The next evolution may not be about producing more. It may be about living better.

If designed intentionally, AI could move us forward by restoring something we quietly lost: time for caregiving, time for health, time for community, and time for purpose outside the office.

The future of AI does not have to be dystopian. It could simply give us back what once mattered most: time for what matters.

Nutrition Labels Transformed Food. It’s Time for Environmental Labels to Transform AI.

I’m hearing more educators and students cite the environment as a reason not to use AI. 

Energy use. Water consumption. Emissions.

Those concerns are real.

But giving up AI isn’t the answer. Accountability is.

Check out my recent piece in Tech & Learning Magazine, where I argue that just as nutrition labels changed food, environmental labels can change AI. 

The article includes classroom-ready lessons and a practical student activity: designing an AI Environmental Label that schools can use to push vendors toward transparency and cleaner infrastructure.