I’ve never known a classroom without Wi-Fi. My assignments have always lived somewhere between Google Docs and class group chats. For people my age, education and technology grew up side by side—we’ve never really seen one without the other.

But that doesn’t mean we take it for granted. If anything, we’re surrounded by it—blinking notifications, tabs piled on tabs, Zoom calls, and AI tutors. Technology in education isn’t some shiny new tool anymore; it’s the air we study in. And that’s what makes it worth thinking about.

Technology has become the heartbeat of modern education. It's the late-night glow of a student's screen as they rewatch a physics lesson online. It's the tablet in a teacher’s hands, filled with dashboards and learning curves. It’s a classroom that stretches across continents—where a child in a village can take the same coding course as one in a skyscraper.

Perhaps its greatest gift is access—the democratization of learning. No longer must a child be wealthy or well-located to have a seat at the table of knowledge. Now, the table has no edges. Apps, videos, and virtual classrooms open doors for those who were once locked out. That’s powerful.

And then there’s personalization—something traditional classrooms could never quite manage. With the right tools, education can now whisper to each student: “I see where you're struggling, and I’ll meet you there.” Adaptive platforms slow down when they need to, speed up when they can.

Still, not everything that glows is gold.

Technology brings with it a quieter battle—distraction. The same device that opens a portal to the world also holds reels, games, memes, and rabbit holes with no bottom. Focus is no longer something we stumble into; it’s something we must fight for. In this age of infinite tabs, the greatest skill might be learning to close a few.

We must teach students not just how to use technology, but how to resist it when it whispers the wrong things. To learn how to be present in the classroom—even if the classroom is digital. Discipline and awareness must become part of the curriculum, just as much as algebra or grammar.

And of course, the digital divide still cuts deep. For every student with a laptop and Wi-Fi, there’s another relying on a shared phone or no device at all. Tech has the potential to connect, but it can just as easily isolate those left behind.

Still, I believe the future of education and technology can be beautiful—if we are intentional. Virtual reality might one day bring ancient ruins into history class. AI tutors could explain math in a hundred different ways until the student says, “I get it.” And maybe, just maybe, we’ll learn not just from the machine, but from how we interact with it.

Technology will never replace teachers. It can’t replicate the gentle encouragement in a teacher’s voice, the understanding look when a student falls behind, or the magic of a class discussion that goes off-script but leads somewhere real. But it can support that magic. Amplify it.

In the end, education is still about connection—between minds, between ideas, between generations. Technology is just the newest thread in that ancient tapestry. If we use it wisely, and stay mindful of its shadows, it can help us weave something stronger, more inclusive, and more alive than ever before.