A colleague once asked me a question that has stuck with me for years.

“If you were hiring a contractor to build a house, and one showed up with just a hammer and nails, while another arrived with a full set of tools—a power nailer, an air compressor, a hammer, everything they needed—who would you hire?”

For most of us, the answer is immediate. We would hire the contractor with the tools. Not because the hammer-and-nails approach can’t work, but because we understand what the right tools unlock: efficiency, precision, and the ability to do the job well at a higher level.

That question has come back to me often as I think about teaching and technology.

The Tools Are Already Here

In education, we now have access to powerful tools—many of them not new, not experimental, but embedded in our systems for years. Learning platforms, feedback tools, content creation tools, collaboration spaces. In many districts, these have been available for five, even ten years, with training, coaching, and support structures built around them.

And yet, we all know the reality. There are classrooms where those tools are used in thoughtful, purposeful ways that elevate student learning. And there are classrooms where those same tools sit largely untouched.

This is not about cutting-edge innovation. It’s not about asking every educator to chase the newest thing or become a technology expert. In fact, I would argue the opposite. The goal has never been “technology for the sake of technology.”

For years, many of us have used frameworks like SAMR to guide this thinking. If technology doesn’t meaningfully improve the learning experience, we leave it out. If it allows us to redefine learning, to give students opportunities they wouldn’t otherwise have, then it’s worth exploring.

The power is not in using more tools. It’s in using the right tools, well.

When Does It Become a Problem of Practice?

So the question becomes harder, and more uncomfortable.

If a tool has been available for years…
If support has been offered…
If colleagues are using it effectively…

At what point does choosing not to engage with that tool become a problem?

Not a preference. Not a style difference. But a problem of practice.

This is where the conversation needs nuance. Teachers are asked to do an extraordinary amount with limited time. We do not build enough space into the profession for deep learning, experimentation, and growth. Much of what educators learn is done outside of contract hours, driven by personal commitment rather than systemic design. That reality matters, and it should temper how we approach this conversation.

However, it cannot fully excuse it.

The truth is that on the other side of that equation are students. Students who move from classroom to classroom experiencing very different levels of access, feedback, efficiency, and opportunity depending on whether a teacher has engaged with the tools available to them. That inconsistency of the student experience is where this becomes more than a personal choice.

This Is Not About Being “All In” on Technology

It’s important to say this clearly: this is not a call for more screen time, more apps, or more noise in the classroom.

Some of the best teaching happens without technology. Some of the most powerful moments in learning are rooted in conversation, reflection, and human connection. But when a tool can enhance feedback, streamline workflow, increase access, or allow students to create and think in new ways—and that tool has been sitting within reach for years—the expectation shifts. Not toward perfection. But toward engagement.

There is also something to be said for depth over breadth. One well-understood tool used across multiple contexts can be far more powerful than a dozen tools used superficially. A kind of “Swiss Army knife” approach to technology reduces cognitive load, increases efficiency, and allows both teachers and students to focus on learning rather than navigating systems.

Again, this isn’t about doing more. It’s about doing what matters, better.

A Collective Responsibility

What makes this conversation challenging is that the expectation to hold these individuals accountable often defaults to leadership. The common wisdom that prevails in the minds of most educators is that they do not provide feedback to colleagues. Principals evaluate. Districts set expectations. Systems define “non-negotiables.”

While all true statements, there is another layer that matters just as much, if not more: the profession holding itself accountable.

The reality is, teachers listen to teachers. A colleague’s voice often carries more weight than a directive from above. A quiet conversation in a hallway can move practice more effectively than a formal evaluation cycle. An excited share out about a success in your own classroom, or an offer to support a colleague that is unwilling to take the first step — these are the gold standard for encouraging professional growth.

We can tell ourselves that the stick of administration pointed at teachers is the only thing that works to move these individuals (and it is a small set of individuals). Yet, time and again when I have seen that approach yielded, I have watched teacher colleagues quietly defend or empathize with the teacher in question. We typically do not love a top-down approach when we see it utilized. And that makes us responsible for taking the reasonable next step — nudging and supporting our colleagues before anybody else has to get involved.

So the question becomes:

What do we say to one another?

What does it look like when a colleague says, “I don’t use that,” and we know the tool has value—not as a mandate, but as a meaningful way to support students?

Moving the Conversation Forward

This is where tone matters. This is not about calling people out. It’s about calling people in.

It might sound like:

“I used to feel the same way, but this actually saved me a lot of time once I got into it.”
“Our students are going to see this in other classes—it might be worth taking a look together.”
“If you ever want to try it, I’d be happy to walk through it with you.”
“This has been really helpful for feedback—I think it could make things easier for you.”

None of those statements carry judgment. But they do carry expectation. They signal that the work is worth doing. They keep the focus where it belongs: on improving the experience for students.

Holding the Line—Together

The question isn’t whether every teacher needs to use every tool. They don’t.

The question is whether, as a profession, we are willing to engage with the tools that meaningfully improve our work—especially when those tools have been in front of us for years. At some point, the line between preference and responsibility begins to matter.

Not because of compliance. Not because of evaluation. It is because of what students experience every day in our classrooms.

We have a collective responsibility to move the profession forward—not perfectly, not all at once, but steadily and intentionally. And in many cases, that work doesn’t begin with a mandate.

It begins with one teacher turning to another and saying, “Hey, this might be worth your time.”

Holding the Line on Tech Use in Classrooms