
Banning EdTech Doesn't Protect Every Child Equally. It Doesn't Protect Their Teachers Either.
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By: Mara Rodríguez

The debate about educational technology in classrooms is often framed as a simple trade-off: screens versus childhood, efficiency versus connection, technology versus real teaching. But this framing obscures something important—something that affects every student in the room, and every teacher standing in the front of it.
Good adaptive technology doesn’t exist only to remediate. It exists to meet every student exactly where they are: the advanced reader ready to go deeper, the on-grade level student who needs the concept explained one more way, and yes—the student working hard to close a gap. Removing technology doesn't create a more egalitarian classroom. It creates one where differentiating for every learner becomes harder—and where both the students who need something different and the teachers trying to provide it are the ones who pay a price.
When I was teaching middle school, I had 120 students. The range of readiness was staggering—some nearly ready for pre-calculus, others still counting on their fingers, multilingual learners, students with IEPs, and kids carrying years of disrupted learning through no fault of their own. Every one of them deserved to grow.
I arrived at school at 6 a.m. and left at 6 p.m. I tutored on Saturdays. I graded papers at night until I developed carpal tunnel syndrome. I gave everything I had—and my students grew, achieving the highest growth in Massachusetts. But here’s what I couldn’t do, no matter how hard I worked: I couldn’t simultaneously challenge the student who had already mastered the concept, reteach it to the one still confused, and offer a completely different entry point to the one who processes information differently. Not every day. Not for all 120 of them.
That’s not a failure of dedication. It’s a structural impossibility.
As an administrator, I watched this same pattern play out across talented teachers throughout the building. Skills gaps widened. Student needs became more complex. Expectations rose. And we were still asking teachers to solve it all manually: photocopying every worksheet, grading every assignment by hand, creating individualized interventions for dozens of learners simultaneously, all while being told the answer was simply to care more and work harder.
It's no surprise, then, that we are losing great educators at a rate this profession cannot sustain. Telling teachers they must meet every student’s needs without any tools to help isn’t a principled stance. It’s a guarantee of more burnout and fewer talented people staying in the classroom, particularly in those classrooms with the highest needs.
If we care about students, we must care about the teachers who serve them. Technology used well is one of the things that can make this profession sustainable for the people it demands so much from.
Later, as an administrator, I explored platforms like i-Ready Personalized Instruction. What changed my thinking wasn’t the efficiency—it was seeing teachers gain more time for the human side of teaching: leading small groups, having conversations that re-engage students, and pushing those who had quietly checked out because the work no longer challenged them. The technology didn’t replace any of that. It created conditions for it.
There's something a well-designed adaptive tool offers that a whole class lesson rarely can: the ability for a student to work hard on challenging material without an audience. One student captured it simply: "I don't feel embarrassed because only the computer and me know I'm learning skills other kids already know."
For a student who has already started to believe they can't catch up, that kind of dignity can be the difference between re-engaging and withdrawing entirely. Good educational technology, when used well, isn't about screens for their own sake. It's about ensuring that every student—advanced, on grade level, or working hard to close a gap—receives instruction personalized to their needs.
Every student loses something when adaptive technology is removed—the chance to move faster, go deeper, or approach a concept from a different angle. But the loss is not equal. For a student who arrives each September carrying a learning gap, a language barrier, or the weight of a disrupted year, and who has no tutor or enrichment program waiting at home, the classroom may be the only place where instruction can truly meet them where they are.
This isn't abstract. The data is clear.
Research shows that students in lower-income communities and majority Black and Hispanic schools are still the furthest from pre-pandemic academic trends. This is not because of any failure of effort, but because the disruption hit hardest where the safety nets are thinnest.
And yet, some of the most inspiring stories of recovery are unfolding in exactly these communities.
Ontario-Montclair, CA—88% Hispanic, 87% economically disadvantaged—outpaces peers in both math and reading. Perry County, KY, one of Appalachia's most economically depressed communities (83% free and reduced-price meals), surpassed similar districts in both subjects. Maury County, TN, where nearly a third of students are Black or Hispanic, leads peers in a top-2 state for math recovery nationally. All three are among 108 districts named to the 2026 Districts on the Rise list by the Education Scorecard.
These results didn't happen in spite of educational technology. They happened alongside rigorous, thoughtful implementation of tools like i-Ready—tools that allow a teacher to understand exactly where each student is, differentiate instruction at scale, and free up more time for the human work that no technology can replace.
When select communities push to remove educational technology from schools, they are making a choice with consequences they may not fully see—and that they may not fully feel. The students who have nowhere else to turn lose the most. So do the teachers who are already stretched too thin to fill the gaps alone.
The question worth asking isn't just whether technology belongs in classrooms. It's whether we're being honest about what's lost when we take it away—for every student in the room and the teachers we’re counting on to reach them.
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Sources: Curriculum Associates, State of Student Learning 2025; CGCS Success Snapshots, 2025; Student Growth in the Post-COVID Era: Middle School, 2025.

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