CONNECTICUT LIBRARIES
July/August 2001, Vol. 43, No. 7
A series of power outages had wrecked my computer's hard drive and I had taken it into a shop for repair. While waiting to pick it up, I watched the store manager put the finishing touches on a sale to a friendly family of three. Mom wore a white waitress' dress. Pop had on a blue shirt with his name over the pocket. Sonny was 8 or 9. Their new computer was on a hand truck, ready to be wheeled out to the car. Apparently, they had a few bucks left over because the manager steered them to the educational software aisle. When Sonny asked about games, the manager reminded the lad that he needed the computer for his education. Mom and Pop beamed at the manager's words of wisdom.It was my turn. I needed a letter to my insurance company explaining the cause and cure of my computer problem. The manager was pleasant and helpful. Unfortunately, his five-line letter consisted of incomplete sentences filled with misspelled words. Yet, this man had quickly earned the friendly family's respect as an expert on children's education.
The Alliance For Childhood thinks we have all been too uncritical in our rapid acceptance of computers as learning tools for children. The Alliance describes itself on its Web site (www. allianceforchildhool.com) as "a partnership of individuals and organizations committed to fostering and respecting each child's inherent right to a healthy, developmentally appropriate childhood."
The authors believe that advocates of the use of computers in schools mistakenly assume that the machines will speed up intellectual growth. Such efforts, they argue, are doomed because they ignore the natural cognitive progression of children. Childhood development, they stress, occurs on many fronts: physical, emotional, social, sensory, and cognitive. Childhood learning requires reinforcement on all of those fronts. For example, a child doesn't just learn the alphabet. He experiences it. Mom shows the child the letter "a." She pronounces it several times. She invites the child to say it. She writes out the letter. The child copies it with his crayon. He writes "a" over and over again, using all of the colors in the crayon box. He says "a" again and again. He builds a tower of blocks, placing the block with the letter "a" at the very top. When he walks down the street with Grandpa, the child alertly points out all of the "a's" he can see. Grandpa reinforces the learning process with a proud smile and a hug. The letter "a" is more than an abstract symbol on a screen or keyboard. It is part of the child's life.
Members of the Alliance worry about repetitive stress syndrome in children working for lengthy periods of time at ergonomically inadequate workstations. They fret about eyestrain and long-term vision problems, radiation and toxic emissions. They are troubled about what children miss when they spend so much time at the keyboard: healthy exercise, direct interaction with nature, socializing with peers, the company of loving adults, imaginative play, creative experiences with music and art. They fear that the instantaneity of computer feedback leaves children impatient, unfocused, and isolated from reality. They prefer that older children be taught how computers work, not just how to use them. They reason that the hardware and software will change many times over before the youngsters reach adulthood.
The authors have found no research that demonstrates that computers improve the education of children. They allege that the public and the government have relied heavily on the promises of hi-tech business leaders and computer gurus, rather than the expertise of educators. They fear that resources devoted to wiring schools and purchasing computers have been diverted from more important challenges like reducing class size, improving teacher salaries, repairing and constructing school buildings, removing lead paint, improving arts programs, and increasing library services.
The authors' arguments are credible because they base their concerns on our understanding of childhood. In fact, their first chapter is a succinct primer on human growth and development. However, their criticism is more about how we use computers, and less about the nature of computers themselves. If we parents, teachers, and librarians expect computers to do our jobs for us, then we have ourselves to blame, not the PC. We cannot avoid our responsibilities for loving, raising, educating, and mentoring young people.
Fool's Gold gave me much to think about. Chapter 3, "Childhood Essentials," should be read by anyone who provides services to children and by the administrators who manage those service providers. After reading that chapter, you may not feel obligated to unplug the multi-media PC's in your children's services department, but you will feel motivated to expand your story hour programs to every child in your community.
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