I recall the first time that I was amazed by technology. I was just a kid when I learned that the nearby bank was going to have a tube outside of it that could be used to deposit and withdraw money. I was in awe that not only did we not have to see a teller face-to-face, but also that we could trust putting funds in a tube and letting go. Within a short time, that invention paled in comparison to the television’s remote control. Equally amazing was that we could eliminate the aluminum foil that somehow helped our rabbit-ear antenna detect the three local channels we enjoyed. And so it was. As the years went on, we no longer needed phones connected by cords to the wall; the first credit cards appeared (although if you were female, you needed a husband or father’s signature); a garage door could ascend and descend like magic, and a computer card inserted into a machine could quickly determine if there would be space for us in a class.
In my early days of teaching, I would come home with chalk dust and poster board, carefully penned essays written in cursive, and plenty of ditto masters to use to run off copies. I used overhead projectors and single slides and magic markers for visual aids. Fast forward just a few years, and here we are with computers and iPads, iPhones, 3-D movies, and space travel. We now utilize recording cameras and devices to monitor our front porches, microwave ovens to heat up our meals, GPS trackers to get us safely from one destination to another, computer apps to document every aspect of our lives, medical miracles to keep us alive probably longer than we should be, Chat GPT to be our alter-egos, and so much more.
Inevitably, technology is both an incredible blessing and a frightening curse. I am thrilled that I can bank online, that I can communicate with friends, relatives, and former students with relative ease. How I love to capture a touching or inspiring scene with the quick touch of a button on my iPhone, then immediately pass it on to my grandkids. I have come to trust the machines that bring crisper vision to our eyes, that detect a malignancy, or that hold a vein apart so that the blood continues to flow. Where would we be if not alerted that we are driving too close to someone or that a burglar is on the back porch or that a tornado is rapidly approaching? Although I marvel at the building of the pyramids so many centuries ago, I am glad that my descendants will never have to break their backs from such excruciating labor. From skyscraper to subway, our architectural world has been adapted to the needs of modern man in valuable and creative ways.
For all its benefits, technology carries intrinsic danger. The hours spent on social media have changed the way we communicate effectively. We can disguise our appearance and expressions in ways that present something far from truth. We can perpetuate racism, bully others, disguise or reject facts, steal money and identity, all with a computer stroke. The rich and powerful among us can control our livelihoods via their access to everything from our identities to our health care, travel, and media access. I am sometimes appalled at the number of hours I spend on my phone: banking, researching, shopping, checking out people on social media, gambling, playing Wordle and other games, checking my sleep score, my step count, my net worth. I have indirectly spied on my ex-husband, tracked down previously unknown relatives via a DNA swab submitted to an ancestry website, looked up the value of the homes that my siblings own, and checked out the arrest records of people I have known throughout my life. I miss those days when the family gathered for a meal to talk for hours without someone pulling out a phone to check whether something we said was accurate.
Nevertheless, technology holds the promise of our future with its innate capability to cure disease, predict climate change and survival rates, rebuild environments, protect the best and brightest inventions, and stretch our boundaries in amazing ways. Its promise will always be tempered by those who have the power to harness and guide it for the overall good of mankind. Let us hope they make the right decisions so that in some future time, our grandchildren will note how far the world has advanced since 2026. May they also guarantee that technology will never exceed their humanity.
Janet Call
Janet Call is a loving grandmother, avid reader, storyteller, and retired educator. After nearly 50 years in the classroom, she published her first novel Empty Deskand continues to search for writing inspiration daily.
