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This review has been accessed times since May 15, 2006

Oppenheimer, Todd. (2003). The Flickering Mind. New York: Random House.

528 pages
$15.95   ISBN 0-8129-6843-3

Reviewed by Andrew J. Rotherham
Education Sector

May 15, 2006

For another review of this book
see the review by Groff (2005).

Todd Oppenheimer is not a Luddite. That it is important to mention a caveat like that in a discussion of educational technology speaks to the pervasiveness of technology and the strength of our collective faith in its transforming potential. It is an important caveat though because Oppenheimer has produced a 400-page indictment of one of the most popular (and expensive) school reforms of the past twenty years: The massive effort to put computers and technology in the nation's classrooms. Seeing him as a reflexive opponent of technology would make it too easy to dismiss his important observations out of hand.

In The Flickering Mind Oppenheimer walks readers through a history of computers in school, the bold promises about technology’s potential, some case studies about various communities, and some general ideas about ways he thinks schools must now reform the technology reform. Along the way he offers some penetrating insights and interesting reporting about the impact of technology on education and he sounds some useful cautions. However, though I share many of Oppenheimer’s concerns and share many of his conclusions, The Flickering Mind is in places a frustrating book because it reads with the confidence of an analysis that is easier in hindsight than at the messy inception of an idea. But this gets ahead of the story.

The idea of technology in education is nothing new. The current generation of proponents of e-learning, distance learning, online classes and so forth stand on the shoulders of previous generations who have tried to improve on the basic teacher to student relationship. Oppenheimer notes this and gives a brief summary of the various educational promises made on behalf of “technology” long before computers were anything more than the imaginings of futurists and dreamers. He recounts the enthusiasm of Thomas Edison for motion pictures as a way to revolutionize teaching and later similar predictions from others about radios. He also discusses the federal government’s first forays into technology, which would later grow into major programs and initiatives.

His reporting is vivid. Oppenheimer goes inside schools in Harlem, rural West Virginia, Napa, California and Maryland's affluent Montgomery County to paint a fascinating picture of their experiences with technology in classrooms. This is no mean feat. Writing about what happens inside schools with texture and perspective is a challenging task, especially when policy issues are also involved. Oppenheimer succeeds in conveying both an account of the experience of these schools and how it relates to his larger narrative.

He takes us to Hundred, West Virginia, the sort of small isolated community that does not jump to mind when thinking about the dot.com revolution. But Hundred High School has many of the whiz-bang gadgets that you would expect to find in any latte soaked Seattle company. Yet it is no panacea. Oppenheimer writes about a math class, graphing equations using computers. The computers enable the students to work faster and plot more graphs and tackle more problems in class as a result. These are ostensibly exactly the sort of enhancements that proponents of technology seek. But, before they get to work, Oppenheimer reports that it takes the teacher 20 minutes of valuable class time just to get all the students ready to use their computers for the lesson. Perhaps in the end trade-offs like this are worth it: the additional time spent getting things in order is outweighed by the increased productivity the technology will generate over time. Oppenheimer doubts it, no one knows for sure, but everyone on all sides of the technology debate can agree that there are trade-offs. It's just one example of how technology is not an absolute blessing in the classroom.

In New York City, Oppenheimer relays the frustration of teachers who have computers and other gizmos dropped in their classrooms and are unable to use them, get support or service and ultimately end up frustrated with what amounts to overpriced paperweights cluttering up their space. He argues that rather than blaming the teachers, or just calling for more training for them, these problems are symptomatic of deeper problems with the current approach to technology in schools.

In the end, these and other problems convince Oppenheimer that the current tradeoffs are not balance positive for students and schools. Aside from the distractions and shortfalls of much of the hardware, he argues that even when everything is working like it should the internet is too often merely a data dump of information some valuable, some incomplete, some biased or misleading, and some flat out wrong. The problem, as he sees it, is that like other media sources a critical view is necessary for active and informed consumption. He worries that the passive nature of the internet experience for many students, and the reliance on technology rather than teaching that often comes with it, is dulling these skills if imparting them at all.

Those promoting technology, whether in government or industry, come in for particular criticism for fostering this state of affairs. Oppenheimer chastises Clinton Administration officials for their unbridled enthusiasm about technology and many of their efforts to expand its reach in schools. To be sure, various industries stand to gain or lose a lot depending on government policies and companies promoting classroom technology are no exception. Consequently they're not shy about pushing their agenda with those in government. But technology’s biggest boosters in the administration and the public sector in general are not craven, opportunistic, or deluded by lobbyists. Rather they are motivated by the best of intentions.

And that’s a big part of the problem, Edison was sincere too. Like many educational policy issues, this one boils down in no small part to a clash between good intentions, practical realities, and what historians Larry Cuban and David Tyack have called “the grammar of schooling,” namely the enduring characteristics of education that are slow to change.

Some of the educational problems that Flickering chronicles are neither unique to nor caused by technology, and in places the book does read like a fault finding mission made easy through the lens of hindsight. Still, there are trenchant observations in Flickering with important implications. Oppenheimer notes that it is entirely possible that some of the inequities that plague our schools will only be exacerbated not lessened by technology. This is not the well known concern about a “digital divide” in access, but rather a subtler problem of differences in the curriculum, teaching, and learning between affluent children and other children. After all, despite the prevalence of technology in the lives and work of upper-middle class professionals, the kind of schools they most often seek out for their own children tend to emphasize small classes, personal connectedness, and quality interactions between teachers and students.

But technology has reach in education beyond the classroom. Unfortunately, Oppenheimer does not deeply examine its potential outside the classroom. Here is where technology may help us address larger issues. For instance, the venerable financial analysis firm Standard and Poor's has developed a data platform that allows policymakers, and the public, to examine educational performance, expenditures, demographics, and other variables. Just a few years ago, this sort of analytic leverage was a pipe dream for wonks and analysts. Likewise, on-line assessments are showing early promise to lessen the amount of time devoted to student testing, get results back to teachers faster, and offer greater sensitivity than today’s pencil and paper tests. Over time, initiatives like these, which complement teaching rather than seeking to fundamentally change or replace it, may well have a more lasting impact on what happens inside classrooms.

Flickering should not be read as a determinative verdict on the potential of technology in schools but Oppenheimer’s cautions are worth heeding as the educational technology juggernaut goes forward. Besides the issues he raises, a tempered enthusiasm and critical eye are healthy considering that, for all its promise, technology alone cannot solve some basic problems in education, for example the “preparation gap” that starts poor children off in school on an uneven footing or funding disparities between different states and school. In terms of classroom applicability it's regrettable, though, that Oppenheimer largely stays away from making recommendations of his own beyond generalities and related educational issues such as funding and teacher pay and respect. Those issues are not unimportant, and he's right in noting that educators are bombarded with plenty of recommendations and advice as it is. Yet on the heels of a critique like this it seems like a cop-out.

In the end, Oppenheimer is right that technology in schools hasn't been an unbridled dot.com boon. Nor, however, has it been a dot.com bust and the potential remains impressive. Thankfully, not unlike shrewd investors in the dot.coms, savvy educators are becoming more particular about technology and are internalizing the lessons of the recent past. Like most things, progress here will be messy and full of mistakes and false starts, but despite the problems there are signs of progress nonetheless. Today we shake our heads when we consider that the ubiquitous Blackberries have more computing power than the spacecraft that took Americans to the moon. A generation hence we may look back on the infancy of classroom technology with similar bewilderment.

About the Reviewer

Andrew J. Rotherham is co-director of Education Sector (www.educationsector.org), a senior fellow at the Progressive Policy Institute, and a member of the Virginia Board of Education. He writes the blog Eduwonk.com. Rotherham previously served at The White House as Special Assistant to the President for Domestic Policy. He managed education policy activities at the White House and advised President Clinton on a wide range of education issues including the reauthorization of the Elementary and Secondary Education Act, charter schools and public school choice, improving educational options for disadvantaged students, and increasing accountability in federal policy. Rotherham also led the White House Domestic Policy Council education team, the youngest person to have done so.

Copyright is retained by the first or sole author, who grants right of first publication to the Education Review.

Editors: Gene V Glass, Kate Corby, Gustavo Fischman

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