Some moments cant be automated.
I still remember my daughter, at five years old, curled beside me on our brown leather sofa, proudly reading the Bob Books. Today my preschoolers wander through the house carrying their Alef-Bet and Kriah books, turning pages back and forth, placing them in special spots they call mine.
Those small acts—holding a book, flipping a page, owning their learning—matter. Literacy isn’t just about acquiring skills; it’s about connection, meaning, and the joy of progress made tangible. As parents and educators, we want children to feel how important their learning is, to sense that we are with them every step of the way—emotionally, practically, intellectually, and spiritually.
These moments of warmth, connection, and shared attention are what make learning human.
The Promise—and Caution—of Technology
Technology and AI are transforming everything around us. They can be extraordinary helpers—accelerating progress, offering feedback, and providing access to children in places or situations where a teacher can’t always be present.
AI-based tutors and intelligent tutoring systems (ITS) can provide immediate, individualized feedback and more practice opportunities—especially valuable where trained Hebrew literacy teachers are scarce. Meta-analyses of K–12 AI tools have found measurable learning gains when design and implementation are strong. For Hebrew literacy, speech-enabled systems that listen to a child read, flag errors, and prompt corrections could extend a teacher’s reach—never replacing the teacher, but amplifying access.
We can all agree: technology and AI bring both wonder and worry. Used well, they’re like a right-hand helper—accelerating our work, offering shortcuts and opening access we couldn’t dream of a decade ago. Thoughtfully designed digital tools can widen the doorway to Hebrew literacy: automatic access anywhere, fewer trees cut for printing, and timely feedback for children who may not always have an adult available.
But with all this possibility comes responsibility. We decide what enters our classrooms and homes. Just as we choose what foods we serve or what media our children consume, we can—and must—choose what kind of learning environment we create. This isn’t about “preparing them for the digital age.” It’s about protecting their mental health, nurturing their attention, and preserving the conditions that let Hebrew literacy take root.
(See also: UNESCO, 2023, “AI and Education: Guidance for Policymakers,” which emphasizes that AI should support, not replace, the teacher.)
Why Hands Still Matter
Maria Montessori famously said, “The hand is the instrument of intelligence.” Modern neuroscience agrees. When children move their hands—turning pages, tracing letters, writing with a pencil—their brains light up differently than when they tap or type.
Studies show that forming letters by hand strengthens the neural pathways that help children recognize and remember them later (Longcamp et al., 2005; Ihara et al., 2021). This is called haptic learning—learning through touch and movement. When fingers, eyes, and mind work together, a child doesn’t just see a letter—they feel it. Movement anchors attention, supports memory, and connects symbols to sound and meaning.
Reading on screens, by contrast, often leads to lighter processing. Experiments comparing children’s reading on tablets and on paper found that those using paper were better able to focus, navigate, and comprehend what they read (Mangen et al., 2013; Delgado et al., 2018).
And beyond cognition, the tactile experience itself brings emotional satisfaction. Turning a page, feeling progress through a book, closing a cover—these are sensory and emotional cues of accomplishment that deepen motivation and pride.
Keeping the Reader Close
At this point, AI is advancing at breathtaking speed. Tools are learning to converse with us, evaluate our work, and offer feedback in seconds. Yet for all its brilliance, AI is not yet a teacher. Children still need to be held close—guided by human warmth, patience, and discernment—until they’re ready to learn more independently.
We might think of this like the gradual release of responsibility:
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- I do — the teacher models and guides.
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- We do — we learn together, side by side.
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- You do — the learner practices independently.
Perhaps, in time, AI can serve meaningfully in that final stage, providing structured practice once foundational skills are secure. But even then, children need us watching, listening, interpreting, providing feedback and celebrating progress. For now, AI is the assistant—the extra set of ears and eyes—not the teacher.
Finding Balance in Different Realities
Every classroom, family, and child is different. Some educators now rely on slides, tablets, or digital programs to manage learning and engagement. Some parents appreciate an easy app their child can use in the back seat—better Hebrew practice than another endless running game. These tools can genuinely help, especially when they provide immediate feedback or motivating practice opportunities.
Others, meanwhile, prefer to keep technology at bay, finding richness in the routine of paper, pencils, and sand trays. They watch a child’s fingers form letters, feel textures, and turn pages—and they know this tangible world still matters deeply.
Both perspectives hold wisdom. Younger or struggling readers often benefit most from paper materials and handwriting to strengthen sound–symbol connections and comprehension. As children grow and texts become longer or more complex, carefully chosen digital tools can add variety and independence—especially when balanced with sensory, hands-on practice.
Tactile materials such as matching cards, loop cards, and clip cards with self-correcting features can mirror some of the best aspects of technology—immediate feedback, engagement, and gamified learning—without screens. When children move, match, and touch as they learn, their bodies become part of the learning process. These simple tools keep practice joyful and grounded while reinforcing accuracy and confidence.
Rather than drawing lines, we can find balance. When screens are used, we can pair them with print—anchoring digital learning in tangible experiences that engage the senses. Even a few minutes of handwriting or book-holding each day reinforces the neural and emotional bond between symbol, sound, and meaning.
As educational leaders, parents, and curriculum designers, our role is not to ban or glorify technology, but to guide its place—to keep the hands, eyes, and heart of the learner at the center of every choice.
A Shared Responsibility
That same responsibility extends beyond classrooms—to the choices we make at home and in curriculum design. As educators, parents, and curriculum designers, we have the privilege and responsibility to shape the experiences that reach children. We decide what enters our classrooms and homes—what materials and tools we trust to guide their learning.
Used thoughtfully, AI and digital tools can extend our reach and help more children access meaningful learning. But nothing replaces the warmth of human presence—the moment of sitting beside a child, listening as they read, offering encouragement, and watching confidence take root.
My hope is that we continue to use technology wisely—to extend opportunity and support—while holding on to the gratifying, nostalgic act of turning a page, moving a card, and watching the letters of our language come to life in a child’s hands.
References:
Montessori, M. (1946/2021). The hand is the instrument of the intelligence.
Longcamp, M. et al. (2005). Handwriting and letter recognition studies.
Ihara, A. S. et al. (2021). Advantage of handwriting over typing on learning words. Frontiers in Behavioral Neuroscience.
Mangen, A., Walgermo, B., & Brønnick, K. (2013). Reading linear texts on paper versus screen. Learning and Instruction.
Delgado, P. et al. (2018). Meta-analysis on reading comprehension from printed vs. digital devices. Computers & Education.
James, K. H. (2010). Sensori-motor experience leads to changes in visual processing of letters. Acta Psychologica.
UNESCO (2023). AI and Education: Guidance for Policymakers
