(The forthcoming book: From the Principal’s Desk – A Journey of Lessons)
Dr Arun Prakash
It all started one evening when I was invited to the Verma household for dinner. The aroma of freshly made rotis wafted through the air as the family gathered at the dining table. But what was supposed to be a peaceful meal soon turned into a lively debate.
“Digital learning is ruining everything!” Mr. Verma exclaimed, stabbing his fork into a piece of paneer. “Rohan now claims he’s ‘studying’ when he’s watching YouTube. Last week, I found him glued to a video of a man wrestling an alligator. Alligator!”
Mrs. Verma laughed. “At least it wasn’t another cat playing the piano. That’s what the neighbour’s son watches!”
Their teenage son, Rohan, rolled his eyes. “Dad, it wasn’t just a random video—it was a wildlife documentary. And besides, digital learning is the future!”
“The future? The only thing I see in your future is glasses from staring at screens all day,” Mr. Verma shot back, shaking his head.
As they laughed, I found myself smiling. This scene was a familiar one, playing out in countless homes across the world. On one side are parents, wary of technology taking over their children’s lives. On the other are children, defending the screens that, to them, seem to hold the keys to the universe. And in the middle lies a truth that’s more nuanced than either side cares to admit.
Digital learning, I told the Vermas, is both a blessing and a challenge. But to understand it, we need to start with its promise.
I shared the story of Aarav, a boy I’d met in a remote village. His school didn’t have proper classrooms, let alone computers. But one day, his uncle gifted him a second-hand tablet. That device transformed his life. Aarav discovered free online resources and began teaching himself math and coding. Last year, he even developed a simple app to help farmers in his village track market prices. Aarav’s story is a powerful reminder of what digital tools can achieve—they break down barriers, bringing opportunities to those who might otherwise be left behind.
And it’s not just accessibility. Digital platforms like Khan Academy and Duolingo adapt to each child’s pace. A struggling student can revisit concepts until they grasp them, while an advanced learner can move ahead. Technology doesn’t get impatient. It doesn’t scold. Instead, it nudges, encourages, and keeps going until the lightbulb moment arrives.
But every silver lining has its own cloud. And in the case of digital learning, the cloud comes with distractions, over-reliance, and the occasional cat video. I recounted the story of Meera, a bright girl whose mother had come to me with a peculiar problem. Meera excelled in online quizzes but froze during written exams. She had grown so accustomed to the instant feedback and structured environment of digital apps that she struggled with the unpredictability of real-world problems.
Then there’s the issue of screen fatigue. I once met a father who proudly told me his son studied for six hours a day on his laptop. The boy, sitting nearby, looked more exhausted than excited. Prolonged screen time can strain the eyes, disturb sleep, and even dampen the joy of learning. And let’s not forget the digital divide. For every Aarav with a tablet, there’s another child who lacks even basic access to the internet. Technology can only be a bridge if both sides of the river are connected.
By this point, the Vermas were nodding thoughtfully. “So, what’s the solution?” Mrs. Verma asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.
“It’s about balance,” I replied. “Technology is like salt in food—you need just the right amount. Too little, and you miss out. Too much, and it overpowers everything.”
I shared the story of Mrs. Gupta, a mother who found that balance in the most creative way. Her son, Kabir, loved playing a geography game on his tablet. He could name every African desert but couldn’t locate Indian states on a map. Frustrated, Mrs. Gupta declared a digital detox for the weekend. She brought out a paper map of India and a box of colorful pins. Kabir resisted at first but soon got engrossed. By Sunday evening, he not only aced his Indian geography but also discovered the joy of moving pins around with his own hands. Sometimes, I told the Vermas, we need to remind children that the world is more than pixels on a screen.
Rohan, who had been quiet for a while, spoke up. “But isn’t everything going digital? What’s the point of maps and pins when we have Google Earth?”
I smiled. “You’re right, Rohan. Technology is here to stay. But think of it like this—would you trust a pilot who learned to fly on a simulator but never touched a real plane? Digital tools are wonderful for practice, but real-world experience is irreplaceable.”
As the evening wound down, Mr. Verma leaned back in his chair, his earlier frustration replaced with a thoughtful expression. “So, you’re saying we shouldn’t ban digital learning, but we need to guide it?”
“Exactly,” I said. “Think of technology as a fire. It can cook your food or burn your house. The key is to control it.”
Later that night, as I left their home, I thought about how much the world of education has changed since I started my career. Back then, technology meant an overhead projector that hummed louder than the fans. Today, we have virtual classrooms, AI tutors, and apps that gamify learning. But for all the advancements, one thing remains constant—the role of parents and teachers as guides.
The next day, I received a message from Mr. Verma. “Rohan just showed me a video on wildlife conservation. No alligators this time. Thank you for the perspective.”
And that’s the essence of digital learning. It’s not about choosing screens over books or vice versa. It’s about teaching our children to use every tool wisely, to embrace the wonders of technology without losing touch with the real world. After all, the goal of education isn’t just to create tech-savvy individuals. It’s to nurture thinkers, dreamers, and doers—people who can navigate a world that’s evolving faster than we can imagine.