Digital Literacy: The Non-Negotiable for College and Career Readiness
What does it really mean to prepare students for the future? Is it enough to put a Chromebook in every student’s hand and install the latest learning app? Or are we fooling ourselves into thinking “access” is the same as “readiness”?
Let’s be honest: many K–12 school systems have poured millions into technology integration. Smartboards. Tablets. Learning management systems. But here’s the uncomfortable truth: buying shiny devices is not the same thing as teaching digital literacy. If students don’t know which tools to use, when to use them, and why they matter, then all we’ve done is create a very expensive distraction. And now, enter artificial intelligence. Teachers are scrambling to figure out what to do with ChatGPT and other AI tools, while students are already using them, sometimes wisely, often recklessly. AI is exposing the gap between technology access and true digital literacy in real time. Do we really want students outsourcing their thinking to machines without ever learning how to question, evaluate, and apply the output? Or will we finally seize this moment to teach them the deeper skills of discernment, adaptability, and responsible use that AI demands?
The real challenge isn’t just giving kids technology, it’s teaching them how to learn in a digital environment. Because here’s the reality: technology will change tomorrow, next year, and five years from now. What won’t change is the need for students to adapt quickly, think critically, and apply tools wisely. That’s the essence of digital literacy. Without it, students won’t be college and career-ready—they’ll be left behind.
David Conley’s landmark EPIC report, Redefining College Readiness, laid this out back in 2007. He identified four critical dimensions for success:
Cognitive strategies
Content knowledge
Self-management
Knowledge about postsecondary education
Notice anything? Each of these dimensions is directly affected by digital literacy. Students who are digitally literate can deepen their content knowledge through authentic, tech-enhanced learning experiences. They can manage their time, tasks, and goals more effectively—or use tools to compensate when they can’t. They can explore colleges, programs, and career pathways online, equipping themselves to make smarter academic decisions. And yet, here we are in 2025, still trying to figure out how to teach digital literacy. Let me be clear: digital literacy is more critical today than ever before. It is the backbone of college and career readiness. Without it, we are sending students into the world unprepared, expecting them to swim in waters we’ve never taught them to navigate. The question isn’t whether we should embed digital literacy across every layer of K–12 education. The question is: what are we waiting for?
If we want our students to thrive in the real world, and not just survive, it’s time to move past token technology integration and commit to teaching digital literacy as a core skill, not a side lesson. AI is already rewriting the rules of work and learning. If schools don’t catch up, they risk becoming irrelevant—and worse, leaving their students defenseless in a world they don’t fully understand. Anything less is educational malpractice.
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The 500-Pound Gorilla: The Role of Culture in Mathematics Education
There is no racial bias in mathematics education, right? Well, I am sure we all cringe whenever someone brings up race and culture in the context of everyday life, but when we do, are we avoiding reality? If we cannot separate ourselves from our culture, then we must examine education with culture in mind.
When I look at mathematics education in general, I see countless factors that impact student achievement. One of the most significant—and often overlooked—is culture. As a math and science educator of color, it’s easy to assume that the culture of the student matters most. After all, we’ve been taught that understanding a student’s background, experiences, and community is critical to helping them succeed. But what about my culture?
Could my cultural lens, beliefs, and experiences as a teacher be just as important? Could they influence how I approach teaching, how I perceive students’ abilities, or even how I interpret their challenges? And what about the broader culture of mathematics education itself—the unspoken norms, expectations, and assumptions that shape the way we teach and learn math?
It’s uncomfortable to talk about, but we may be overlooking the 500-pound gorilla in the room when we skirt around the role of race and culture in student achievement in mathematics. While math may be universal in its principles, the way it is taught and learned is anything but.
Consider the ways cultural norms shape how we view intelligence, problem-solving, or even the value of education itself. In some communities, math is seen as a gateway to opportunity—a means of breaking generational cycles of poverty or underrepresentation. In others, it may feel distant, inaccessible, or irrelevant to daily life. These perceptions are not inherent; they are shaped by history, experiences, and societal messages.
Now add the cultural lens of the educator to the equation. Teachers bring their own assumptions into the classroom—about what “good math students” look like, how success is demonstrated, and what kinds of behaviors signal engagement or disinterest. These assumptions, often unconscious, can create barriers for students whose cultural expressions of learning differ from those expectations.
Then there’s the culture of math education itself. For decades, math classrooms have been dominated by rigid practices that reward speed and correctness over exploration and understanding. Students who don’t conform to these expectations are often labeled as “struggling” or “behind,” when in reality, they may simply approach learning differently.
So where does this leave us? If we truly want to improve mathematics education for all students, we must be willing to confront the cultural factors at play—ours as educators, those of our students, and the broader systems in which we work. This means embracing uncomfortable conversations about race, bias, and equity. It means challenging the traditional norms of math education and creating spaces where every student can see themselves as capable mathematicians.
Ultimately, addressing the role of culture in mathematics education is not about assigning blame; it’s about broadening our perspective. It’s about recognizing that math is not just a set of numbers and formulas—it’s a human endeavor, shaped by the experiences and identities of those who engage with it. And if we can approach it with that understanding, we can create a more inclusive and empowering environment for every learner.
Well, maybe these aren’t such random thoughts after all.
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Who is Really "At-Risk" in Education?
What’s the one thing humans can’t seem to resist? Labels. We name, sort, and categorize everything. From the dawn of time, we’ve been obsessed with putting things in boxes—sometimes literally. And nowhere is this habit more entrenched than in education.
We label students. We label classrooms. We label entire schools. “At-risk.” “Gifted.” “Special ed.” “Low-performing.” “High-achieving.” The list never ends. But here’s the real question: are these labels helping us—or quietly hurting the very people we claim to serve?
Think about the term “at-risk student.” Sounds harmless, maybe even compassionate, right? Except it isn’t. It’s a warning stamp, a flashing red sign hung around a kid’s neck. Poverty, unstable housing, limited resources—these are real barriers. But once a child is branded “at-risk,” the risk shifts. Suddenly, teachers lower expectations. Peers view them differently. Worst of all, students start to see themselves through the label. And that’s how a word becomes a prophecy.
We do the same with classrooms. “Advanced Placement.” “Inclusion.” “Remedial.” These labels might help with scheduling and resources, but they also carve invisible hierarchies into the school culture. Students quickly learn where they’ve been placed—and what that supposedly says about their intelligence, their future, their worth. Once you’ve been slotted into a category, how easy is it to climb out?
And then there are campuses. “Title I.” “Low-performing.” “Failing.” Yes, those words drive funding and policy, but they also brand entire communities. A Title I school may be full of brilliant kids and dedicated teachers, but the label often overshadows everything else. Who wants to be defined by a deficit before they even begin?
Here’s the uncomfortable truth: labels aren’t neutral. They carry weight. They shape mindsets. They reinforce ceilings. And when used carelessly, they trap students and schools in narratives they may never escape.
So, who is really at risk in education? Not just the students. All of us. Because the moment we start believing our own labels, we stop seeing possibility. We stop investing in growth. We stop imagining more.
Education should be the great door-opener, not the great box-builder. Labels may tell us where someone starts, but they should never decide where they finish.
The next time you hear someone described as “at-risk,” ask yourself: at risk of what? Failure—or being underestimated into failure?
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