For decades, schools have integrated technology with little scrutiny, assuming its benefits outweigh the risks. Now, a growing chorus of neuroscientists and researchers are questioning this assumption, arguing that the rush to digitize education may be harming cognitive development. Jared Cooney Horvath, a neuroscientist and education consultant, outlines this argument in his new book, The Digital Delusion, echoing similar concerns raised in Jonathan Haidt’s The Anxious Generation. The core issue? Excessive screen time, even in educational settings, interferes with fundamental learning processes.
The Unverified Promise of EdTech
The integration of technology into schools wasn’t driven by rigorous testing or proven efficacy. Unlike other innovations that must demonstrate value before adoption, digital tools arrived without clear claims. Developers openly admitted uncertainty about their impact, yet schools embraced them anyway. Horvath points out that this stands in stark contrast to how other products gain acceptance: “If I invented something, I had to convince you. This [product] will get rid of that stain on your shirt… If you promised something, you had to live up to it.” Digital technology made no such promise, yet it permeated classrooms.
The Critical Role of Play and Early Development
Neuroscience emphasizes the importance of unstructured play for optimal brain development, particularly before age five. During this period, the brain is in “input mode,” absorbing information indiscriminately. Introducing digital habits early can create lasting neurological pathways that are difficult to break. Horvath warns that forming tech-dependent behaviors before age five may have long-term consequences: “If you’ve already addicted your kid before age 5, be careful. I don’t know what that’s going to mean when they get older.” This is because the brain undergoes a “lockdown” around age five, solidifying patterns established during early childhood.
The Superiority of Traditional Learning Methods
While some educators advocate for integrating AI and digital tools to prepare students for a tech-driven workforce, Horvath argues this misses the point. He insists that education should prioritize fundamental thinking skills over tool proficiency: “Teach someone how to think and they’ll be able to use any tool.” Moreover, research consistently demonstrates that traditional methods, such as handwriting and reading physical texts, enhance learning more effectively than digital alternatives.
The act of handwriting, in particular, is a complex motor skill that promotes cognitive development in ways that typing cannot replicate. It forces slower, more deliberate processing, strengthening focus and analytical thinking.
The Case for Banning and Creating Desire
Horvath advocates for stricter limits on technology in schools, even suggesting bans. This approach, counterintuitively, may create a healthy desire for technology rather than fostering dependence. He draws a parallel to his own generation’s experience with driving: the restriction made access more desirable. By creating a mystique around technology, schools can train students to use it responsibly when they reach adulthood.
Practical Resistance and Systemic Change
Horvath offers pragmatic advice for parents and educators, including letter templates to mobilize action at school board meetings. His approach emphasizes reclaiming education as a “deeply human endeavor” rather than surrendering to the allure of digital solutions. Australia’s recent ban on social media for anyone under 16 demonstrates that such measures are feasible and, according to initial reports, effective in improving student behavior.
Ultimately, the debate isn’t about resisting technology entirely, but about prioritizing learning over convenience and ensuring that education remains rooted in proven cognitive principles. The rush to digitize schools without careful consideration has created a situation where we may need to take a step back to move forward.
