Lisa Nielsen: The Innovative Educator

Why Elementary Students Need Access to Screens

2026-09-02T04:37:38.658-04:00

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

2026-08-24T20:11:24.419-04:00

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

2026-06-20T12:01:28.564-04:00

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