A few months back, I penned a back-to-school essay for National Review reflecting on education technology’s constant cycles of hype and subsequent disappointment. (Remember when giving every student a cellphone in school was the height of forward thinking?) I sometimes wonder how much of this is runaway optimism and how much is something less savory, fueled by grifters. On that count, I couldn’t resist sharing a missive I got the other day from CIOLook. To quote the immortal Dave Barry, “I am NOT making this up.”
CIOLook is a self-described “prominent global business magazine and platform,” and they wanted to celebrate my “remarkable accomplishments as an EdTech pioneer” (yup, oddly bolded in the original).
They were offering to “spotlight your expertise and the transformative strides you’ve made in the industry” by featuring me in their upcoming edition: “The 10 Most Visionary EdTech Leaders to Watch, 2024.” (They sure like to go bold; maybe that’s part of the whole visionary thing?)
Recent issues have listed other visionaries, like the “Top 10 Outstanding Sales Leaders to Watch in 2024,” “Top 10 Influential Women Shaping the Future of Tech 2024,” and “10 Most Inspiring Product Leaders in 2024.” Here was my chance to be part of this tapestry of influence and achievement.
The pitch continued: “You have the chance to inspire and gain widespread recognition. We’d be honored to feature you prominently and share your inspiring journey with our extensive readership.” I was thrilled by the prospect of inspiring readers with my inspiring journey. I mean, inspiration is where I’m at!
And there were perks! My image would be on the cover, there’d be “eight full pages of profile” in the print and online magazine as well as a “print-ready high-resolution PDF of your profile with reprint rights.” I’d get a “guest article” in the upcoming edition, “two full-page advertisements in the magazine,” free space on their website for “news” and press releases, and 10(!) free copies of the magazine (with the option to order up to another 10,000).
I was feeling seen and validated. It’s so nice to see one’s contributions acknowledged. And then I noticed the (bolded) fine print: “There is a nominal cost of $3000 USD for the above-mentioned benefits offered to you.”
So, yeah, it wasn’t me they wanted, just my credit card. But I’m betting you knew that already.
Is there any larger point here? Actually, I think there are a few.
First, in my experience, variations on this sort of thing are more common than you might think—and a lot of parents and educators don’t realize it. Those “40 Under 40” lists you’ll see, for instance, are typically more about glad-handing and good PR than meaningful accomplishment. But these lists and accolades frequently get treated as credentials when school systems or educational organizations are choosing speakers, engaging trainers, or hiring vendors—enabling malarkey to crowd out merit.
Second, some segments of education seem more susceptible than others to shady products, dodgy PR, and suspect self-promotion. The risks are especially high in standard-free fields dominated by insiders who know the lingo, like when it comes to “setting a vision,” leadership, technology, or SEL. It can be more challenging to employ these deceptive tactics, I suspect, when it comes to early reading or SAT-prep programs. I’m not saying that sleaze merchants can’t operate in those instances, but there are clear measures and metrics that put some modest guardrails in place. Practitioners, parents, and policymakers should be duly advised.
Third, I’m not sure whether education is more susceptible to this fraud than other fields, but I do think our sector may have some specific vulnerabilities. Why? Well, education is thick with impassioned optimists and true believers and light on flinty skeptics. This isn’t all bad; some fields are too heavy on cynics and far too light on humanists (and that’s probably a bigger problem in the scheme of things). But education can suffer for the field’s lack of guile. I also wonder whether much of education suffers because it lacks the callous, self-interested discipline imposed by a profit motive. I mean, if you work in a nonprofit or a public entity and feel more pressure to spend down a grant or a budget allocation by the end of a fiscal year than to maximize operating margins, it may be easier for you to sign off on suspect outlays.
Anyway, those who are healthily insulated from the auto-email lists of the PR flacks should still be aware that this stuff is always going on, which means we would all do well to look with appropriate skepticism at various lists of “leaders,” “visionaries,” and “influencers.” It’s a mistake to think these honorifics necessarily reflect expertise, accomplishment, or know-how. They may just reflect good PR ... or the willingness to cough up some cold, hard cash.
This piece was originally published at Education Next and has been reprinted with permission. The original text has been altered slightly to adhere to Education Week’s editorial standards.
