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The day my five-year-old son came home from school proudly announcing he had learned to download apps on what he called \u201cmy iPad,\u201d I felt two things: the instinct of a father sensing something was off, and the reflex of a physician recognizing a familiar problem. It wasn\u2019t his excitement that gave me pause. It was the word \u201cmy.\u201d After a few weeks of school, he was personally identifying with a device before he was developmentally ready to contextualize his relationship to it.<\/p>\n
As an emergency physician, I evaluate interventions the same way every time, by weighing the evidence of benefit against the risk of harm. When the data is unclear, I fall back on medicine\u2019s oldest principle \u2014 primum non nocere<\/i>. First, do no harm. I never imagined I would be applying that framework to my son\u2019s pre-K classroom.<\/p>\n
The echoes of COVID remain familiar: an expert class prescribing an untested solution, dismissing the concerns of the people it serves. The pandemic increased reliance on technology in education but also exposed the priorities of America\u2019s elites. When the public sought explanations, officials issued mandates. Conformity to dogma ruled the day, and any criticism was swiftly labeled misinformation. The cost was staggering. A generation\u2019s trust in institutions was spent in just about two years. At the core of it all was a simple belief \u2014 that experts know best.<\/p>\n
I am watching a similar phenomenon take place in our children\u2019s classrooms. Every day our kids go to school, we are extending an act of trust \u2014 placing them in the school\u2019s care, expecting that parents and teachers will work together in the children\u2019s best interests. Increasingly, the educators\u2019 posture has shifted to something more insular: we know best, and we\u2019ll take it from here.<\/p>\n
The deeper irony is that on this specific question, the evidence is not on the educators\u2019 side.<\/p>\n
In January, neuroscientist Jared Horvath testified before a Senate subcommittee about the impact of screen time and classroom technology on kids. And in his book, \u201cThe Digital Delusion,\u201d he notes that the impact of classroom interventions is measured using a metric called \u201ceffect size.\u201d The threshold for meaningful impact is +0.40. Teacher-led direct instruction averages approximately +0.56 \u2014 the gold standard. Broad educational technology interventions average around +0.29 \u2014 well below the impact threshold. For context, the negative effect of bullying is -0.28. OECD countries noted an almost two-letter-grade drop on standardized testing for students who used computers \u201cvery frequently.\u201d The MIT-based Poverty Research Center, after examining 126 studies, found that programs expanding computer access \u201cdo not improve K-12 grades and test scores.\u201d<\/p>\n
Many schools claim that children need early digital exposure to succeed in the modern world. But this isn\u2019t supported by evidence, nor does it pass the common-sense test. Digital skills can be acquired in minutes to hours, and they are not what predict deep learning or professional success.<\/p>\n
What makes this particularly corrosive is what the apps are doing to learning itself. Early childhood is the most sensitive period for attention, executive function, and self-regulation \u2014 precisely the capacities most at risk. Research consistently shows stronger comprehension and retention on paper versus screens. Horvath notes that learning requires productive struggle. The friction of sitting with a hard problem, resisting distraction, and building toward mastery is not a flaw in education; it is the process. Apps are engineered to eliminate this friction. The result is what researchers call the \u201cillusion of mastery.\u201d Students feel<\/i> they are learning, but the depth is not there.<\/p>\n
COVID accelerated this without resolving it. The academic consequences were severe, and so were the mental health ones \u2014 anxiety, depression, and social withdrawal spiked across age groups and have not fully recovered. We poured energy into getting children back into classrooms, then handed them the same devices back.<\/p>\n
Worse still, many educators don\u2019t realize that much of the \u201cevidence\u201d backing these programs traces back to the for-profit education tech sector that created this ecosystem. These companies have cultivated academic voices to carry their message into schools, funding research through channels educators rarely scrutinize. Meanwhile, Silicon Valley\u2019s founders have largely kept their own children off these devices. When Peter Thiel revealed as much at a recent summit, it elicited audible gasps. Educators who believe they are following the science are, in many cases, following a sales pitch.<\/p>\n
Pennsylvania Governor Josh Shapiro recently signed legislation mandating cursive handwriting in classrooms, explicitly to keep kids off tablets, while 10 states across the political spectrum are considering legislation to reduce screen time or restrict device programs in some way. This is no longer a fringe position.<\/p>\n
As a father, I feel this differently than I do as a physician. Parents are watching in real time as young children develop a compulsive relationship with devices \u2014 fidgeting for the next stimulus, the next dopamine surge from apps designed to engage. Boys are particularly susceptible to these reward structures \u2014 the variable reinforcement, the next level, the next hit. The gaming addiction literature has documented it for years. We are now introducing that architecture to boys in pre-K through a school-issued device they are taught to think of as their own.<\/p>\n
And yet the response from most schools has been silence, or worse, reassurance. Parents notice concerning changes in their children, review the data, bring their concerns to administrators, and are met with polished explanations that best practices are being followed. Parental concern is treated as a feature of the process, proof almost that the school is doing something bold.<\/p>\n
Educators dismiss those concerns at their own peril. The trust parents extend to schools is not unconditional, and it is fraying. At a minimum, parents should have the right to opt their children out of individual device programs, and schools should provide information to parents on the potential harms. Regular efficacy assessments should accompany all device programs. No responsible physician would deny a patient the ability to decline an unproven intervention. Schools should extend a similar respect.<\/p>\n
The larger obligation falls on the system itself. The education establishment should not be mandating device programs without a far stronger evidence base. When physicians, researchers, and parents all raise the same alarm, the appropriate response is curiosity or caution, not defensiveness. Before mandating a new intervention, demonstrate that the benefits outweigh the harms. If you can\u2019t, don\u2019t. Primum non nocere<\/i>.<\/p>\n
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Dr. Benjamin Chacko is an Emergency Medicine Physician and the father of two sons.<\/i><\/p>\n<\/div>\n