What are we deciding about children this term, and how have we asked them?
My first two posts in this series were about how we read the noise and what governments are doing about it. This one is about who’s missing from the conversation.
The response that’s closest to the classroom
The most visible response to all of this so far has been to restrict, and it’s happening close to schools. New Zealand’s Online Safety Bill, introduced in August, would require platforms to take reasonable steps to keep under-16s off social media. It also brings AI companions into the framework and would establish an online safety regulator within the Department of Internal Affairs. The Prime Minister said when introducing it that one in three 13 to 17-year-olds now spend at least five hours a day on social media. The bill won’t progress before the election, though, and ACT and NZ First have said they won’t vote for it.
Elsewhere, restriction is reaching schools directly. The EU has drafted a Kids Act that would restrict under-15s’ access to social media, AI chatbots and online games. It still needs agreement from member states and the Parliament, and services designed for education are reportedly excluded. Norway has blocked generative AI for students in Years 1 to 7 from this school year. New York City has announced a one-year moratorium on student-facing generative AI from the youngest years through eighth grade, with companion chatbots prohibited in every grade, alongside AI critical-thinking modules for high schoolers.
The concern behind this isn’t hyperbole. Britain’s technology minister has described children forming one-to-one relationships with AI systems that weren’t designed with child safety in mind. A lot of this is covered in the podcast conversation I had with Ray Finch earlier this year where we discussed the emergence of nihilistic violent extremism – coercion and radicalisation for no ideological purpose at all, “just because they can.”
The evidence is early, and the reactions are mixed
Many young people say they feel relief at the idea of restrictions, while others argue it’s a breach of their rights. The weight of opinion currently leans towards restriction, but the evidence on whether it works is early. A peer-reviewed study of Australia’s under-16 ban found little sign that teenagers had turned away from social media, and critics of Norway’s school ban call it avoidance rather than discernment.
I’m not arguing against restriction. I’m arguing that it’s a decision made about children and not with them, and that it doesn’t keep the technology out of their lives beyond the school gate. A ban can be part of a response, but it isn’t a strategy.
The conversation that’s missing
Notice who’s absent from most of this. The debate is framed around the economy, security and the companies. Even Australia’s national framework, which at least names education, lists it alongside climate, energy, jobs, copyright and defence as one area among many. Education is one portfolio among many, and children aren’t in the room at all.
Here’s what’s easy to forget. A five-year-old who started school this year will finish Year 13 around 2038. Whatever we decide, or fail to decide, in the next few years will shape the world those tamariki inherit, and they have no say in how it’s decided. We’re making decisions on behalf of mokopuna who will live with them far longer than we will. The imagined future in this debate isn’t ours. It’s theirs.
What I’m asking of us
I want to end with three things, each building on the earlier posts.
- Ask them. Ask rangatahi and ākonga what they think, what they’re seeing, and what they want us to understand. They’re already living with this technology. If we’re going to restrict, regulate or teach with it, they should be part of the conversation, and their views should reach the people making decisions.
- Hold ourselves to the evidence. When a new ban, moratorium or tool arrives, use the four questions from the first post. What has been committed to, by whom, and how would it be verified? Be as sceptical of the quick fix as of the headline, and that applies as much to bans as to hype.
- Act now on what’s already real. We don’t need to settle the existential debate to deal with the near-term risks in our own schools. That means clear guidance on AI companions, a plan for responding to deepfake incidents, hard questions for vendors about data and safety, and honest, plain-language communication with whānau. And it means pressing, in the way I described in the last post, for education to have a seat wherever the national conversation happens.
The wolf may not come, or it may arrive in a form we didn’t expect. Either way, the adults in the room should be the ones who read the headlines carefully and then acted, on behalf of the children who’ll live with the result.
Something to think about
What are we deciding about children this term, and how have we asked them?
What policy exists in your school that addresses the issue of AI use? Has it been developed by you and your community, or is it a copy of something you’ve found online? How have you actively involved your students in its development – is their voice represented?
Have you considered using my Thought Piece titled Lead Like a Wayfinder, that offers guidance for school leaders and boards on how they might develop a policy for their school?
Further Reading:
- Reading the headlines – Part 1 in this series
- Watch what governments do – Part 2 in this series
- Lead like a wayfinder – and AI policy framework for education leaders and school boards
- AI, Education and the future we choose – a post based on webinar with Rebecca Winthrop, introducing the notion of a ‘pre-mortem’
- AI just changed the rules – now what – a reflection an appropriate education response
- Keeping our kids safe online – conversation with Ray Finch on what some of the danger are and the responses we can be making
