A growing number of Jewish day schools are following a national trend proudly announcing a return to paper and pencil. Laptops are disappearing from classrooms; devices are being limited or eliminated. Technology is increasingly viewed not as an educational tool, but as an obstacle to learning.

I understand why.

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Illustrative.

The evidence is impossible to ignore. Too much educational technology has delivered too little educational value. Parents have watched children spend hours on screens with little to show for it. Teachers have been handed platforms with promises of transformation but little meaningful support for implementation. School leaders have watched attention spans shrink and social interactions suffer. Add artificial intelligence to the mix, and the instinct to retreat feels understandable.

But this is the wrong response. The answer to poor educational technology is not abandoning technology. The answer is demanding better.

Let’s be honest about what went wrong.

Educational technology has too often become a substitute for thoughtful teaching rather than a tool that enhances it. Students watch feature-length movies instead of engaging in authentic learning experiences. Videos fill lunch periods and indoor recess instead of conversation, play and community. Digital worksheets replace meaningful inquiry. Games marketed as “educational” consume instructional time without advancing learning in any meaningful way.

When technology is used this way, we shouldn’t be surprised by disappointing results. This is not simply a failure of technology. It is a failure of educational leadership.

We digitized classrooms without fundamentally rethinking instruction. We invested in devices before investing in educators. We measured technology adoption instead of meaningful learning. We confused access with innovation.

Now, faced with the unintended consequences of those decisions, some schools are choosing to reverse course entirely. That may feel like progress, but it isn’t.

Our students are growing up in a world where artificial intelligence is rapidly becoming part of higher education, the workplace, healthcare, finance, law, engineering, the arts and everyday life. Colleges increasingly expect students to understand how AI can support research, writing, coding and problem-solving. Employers increasingly seek graduates who know how to collaborate with AI responsibly rather than ignore it. Beyond school and work, AI is shaping how we access information, make decisions, communicate and create.

Digital and AI literacy are no longer optional. They are becoming as foundational as reading, writing and numeracy – not because students need to know every tool, but because they need to know how to think critically, act ethically and exercise sound judgment in a world increasingly shaped by them.

If Jewish schools choose not to teach these skills, our students will still encounter AI; they will simply do so without the guidance of trusted educators grounded in Jewish values.

That should concern us far more than the presence of devices in our classrooms.

Jewish education has never been about preparing students for the world their parents grew up in. It has always been about preparing them to live Jewish lives in the world they will actually inhabit. Every generation has faced profound technological and cultural change. Our tradition has never responded by withdrawing from the world. Instead, it has wrestled with change, not asking simply, “Can we use this?” but “How do we use this in ways that reflect our deepest values?”

Pirkei Avot (2:16) teaches: “Lo alecha hamlacha ligmor, v’lo atah ben chorin l’hibatel mimena.”  “You are not obligated to complete the work, but neither are you free to desist from it.” We are not responsible for solving every challenge AI presents. But we aren’t free to pretend it doesn’t exist either. Our responsibility is to teach students how to engage these technologies with wisdom, discernment, humility and ethical responsibility.

Jewish educators have always done more than transmit knowledge. We cultivate judgment, character and moral responsibility. That calling has not changed; only the tools have. And unlike many of the cautionary tales that dominate today’s conversation, I have also seen what is possible when schools get this right.

I have stood in classrooms where an AI-enabled lesson, guided by a skilled and thoughtful teacher, adapted in real time as students learned at different speeds. I have watched struggling learners receive the scaffolding they needed while their classmates were simultaneously challenged to think more deeply, not through separate lesson plans but through thoughtful personalization that allowed every student to move forward. I have seen AI open doors for students with language-based learning differences and other learning needs — students who might otherwise struggle to thrive in a Jewish day school classroom. I have seen it make Jewish texts more accessible without making them less challenging, creating new pathways into learning rather than lowering expectations. 

If technology can help more children see themselves as capable participants in Jewish learning, that isn’t merely an educational opportunity — it is a Jewish imperative.

And I have seen technology do something that matters even more than efficiency: bring Jewish learning to life. When used with intention, AI can help students wrestle with timeless questions, connect ancient texts to contemporary dilemmas, see themselves as part of the ongoing story of the Jewish People and carry that learning beyond the classroom. That isn’t replacing great teaching; it is expanding what great teaching can make possible.

AI will never compensate for weak teaching. But in the hands of an exceptional teacher, it can expand what excellent teaching makes possible.

None of this happens simply by handing every student a laptop.

It means teaching students when AI can deepen learning and when it should not be used. It means helping them evaluate sources, recognize bias, verify information, ask better questions, protect privacy and understand the limits of machine-generated responses. It means cultivating creativity rather than outsourcing it, strengthening human relationships rather than replacing them and using technology to amplify (not diminish) the uniquely human capacities for empathy, judgment, curiosity and moral reasoning.

Most importantly, it means investing in teachers.

If we expect educators to prepare students for an AI-enabled world, then we must prepare educators first. Professional learning can no longer focus on which buttons to click or which platform to adopt. It must help teachers redesign learning experiences, rethink assessment, personalize instruction and use technology in service of deep learning rather than superficial engagement.

This is harder than banning devices. It is easier to eliminate AI than to teach students to use it wisely. It is easier to remove laptops than to redesign instruction. It is easier to retreat than to lead.

But Jewish education has never chosen the easier path.

The central question has never been whether new technologies will shape the world. They always have. The question is whether we will equip our students to shape those technologies with wisdom and purpose.

Our graduates will enter universities, workplaces and communities where AI is woven into daily life. They will need to know not only how these tools work, but how to use them ethically, thoughtfully and in ways that honor human dignity.

That is not a distraction from Jewish education. It is Jewish education.

Jewish education is not in the business of preserving classrooms; it is in the business of preparing people. Our responsibility has never been to recreate the world we inherited. It has always been to prepare the next generation to carry Torah into the world they will inherit.

Sarah Rubinson Levy is an educational consultant and principal of Sarah Rubinson Consulting and Contracting. A scholar-practitioner with more than 20 years of experience in education, she specializes in educational innovation, organizational strategy and helping schools navigate the opportunities and challenges of a rapidly changing world.