The Roundup - Edition 90

A message from 
Rich Jones, Head.

The irony of my headship has not been lost on me or my family. I must admit that I spent a surprising amount of time in the Head’s office during my formative years and was, perhaps, best described as a frequent flyer on the seats outside those cigarette-and-coffee-smelling 1980s offices. I was usually waiting for the inevitable reprimand, the familiar “what you find funny doesn’t mean it is funny”, or, on the worst days, a meeting with the Head’s metal school ruler – a curious tool that delivered justice with confident clangs. It was the 1980s, after all.

One such incident involved my friend Geoffrey and me discovering all the rude words you could spell by turning a calculator upside down. It was our first real introduction to mathematical technology, and we were absolutely determined to extract as much fun as possible out of it. The ruler was brought out for that one.

I’ve returned to that moment more times than I’d care to admit. Not because of the punishment, but because of the pattern it marks. A new tool appears. Children explore it relentlessly. Adults worry about what is being lost rather than what might be gained. And authority steps in to restore what feels like order.

Of course, technology does not stop. Schools are permanently at a pivot point. From exercise books to Google Classroom, chalkboards to smart boards, texts to Kindles, paper quizzes to Kahoots, and now calculators and Google searches to artificial intelligence, the landscape keeps shifting under our feet. With each shift comes real opportunity and, equally, real anxiety.

And that anxiety is not foolish. It is human. It comes from care. We worry not so much about the tools themselves, but about what might erode beneath them: attention, resilience, human connection, curiosity, kindness and deep thinking.

I guess history offers us one clear lesson. The danger is not in engaging with new tools, but in mistaking resistance for protection. Calculators did not weaken mathematical thinking. What they changed was where the thinking happened. Less time on manual computation created more space for concepts, patterns, problem-solving and higher-order reasoning. The tool did not replace thinking. It reshaped it.

Today’s moment feels similar but is more complex. AI and other digital systems are not merely extensions of existing technology. They are accelerants. They bring enormous potential to personalise learning, to support teachers’ workloads, to unlock creativity, to open up worlds of exploration previously inaccessible. But they also bring real risks.

Recent research from the Sutton Trust highlights early signs of a new kind of digital divide, where well-resourced schools and students are moving ahead rapidly in adopting and benefiting from AI, while others risk being left further behind due to differences in access, training, support and infrastructure.

This is not a lament about technology. It is a call to clarity about our purpose. If we allow tools to be adopted unevenly, without attention to equity, empathy and care, then we risk amplifying existing gaps rather than narrowing them.

So how do we navigate this? How do we harness the opportunities while safeguarding what matters most in education?

First, we refuse the false choice between tradition and innovation. Technology should enhance our humanity in the classroom, not erode it. That means prioritising kindness, curiosity, care and connection in every decision about adoption.

Second, we insist on access for all. Not just access to devices, but access to the confidence, skills and support to use them in ways that deepen thinking and foster agency rather than dependency.

Third, we centre our practice on exploration and ethical use. Tools should help learners ask better questions, not simply produce faster answers. They should support teachers’ insight into individual learners, not replace it.

Most importantly, we hold fast to the idea that education is about equipping young people to live rich meaningful lives in community with others. Technology can be a powerful ally in that mission, but it cannot be the mission itself.

At St Chris, that means we will continue to encourage creativity, critical thinking and compassionate engagement, and use technology in service of those ends, not the other way around. It also means paying attention to who benefits and who might be left out, and acting with intentionality to close those gaps rather than widen them.

The tools will keep changing. But our values do not.

Let’s just keep the metal rulers in the 3D design department!