Teaching Against the Interface

Published on (2025-10-02) by Stephen Wheeler.

Retro-futuristic classroom: teacher and students weaving glowing nodes across a grid while dashboards loom, signaling human collaboration reshaping rigid interfaces, 1970s science-magazine style, no text.

Introduction

Digital technologies in higher education rarely present themselves as pedagogical actors. Learning management systems (LMS), analytics dashboards, and conferencing tools are framed as neutral infrastructure, simply facilitating delivery and administration. Yet, as Margolis (2001) reminds us, every system carries a “hidden curriculum”: implicit values and assumptions that shape what counts as teaching, learning, and knowledge. In digital environments this operates through defaults, design conventions, and data logics. When a gradebook reduces complex performances to numerical scores, or a dashboard signals that “progress” is measured in clicks and completions, students are not just engaging with a tool but inhabiting a tacit model of education. Platforms silently prescribe what it means to participate, succeed, and be accountable within institutional life (Williamson, 2017; Selwyn, 2022).

The hidden curriculum of platforms is powerful precisely because it appears neutral. Bayne (2015) shows how the discourse of “technology-enhanced learning” privileges standardised and administratively convenient pedagogies. Knox (2017) demonstrates how dashboards reorient learning toward self-surveillance, with data visualisations positioning students as objects of monitoring. Similarly, the LMS privileges modularity, sequentiality, and instructor control, narrowing opportunities for improvisation or student-led experimentation. These are not overt prescriptions but tacit signals that educators must navigate, even when seeking to design for dialogue and agency.

The stakes extend beyond pedagogy. As Williamson (2017) argues, platforms are central to the “datafication” of education, aligning classroom practices with wider institutional logics of efficiency, measurement, and managerial oversight. Metrics become proxies for learning, reinforcing student-as-consumer narratives and making accountability synonymous with quantification. Educators who wish to act differently therefore face a structural tension: they cannot simply abandon these systems, since they remain compulsory, embedded, and tied to assessment and accreditation. The critical question is not whether to use platforms but how to act against their default logics while still working within them.

One useful perspective comes from Feenberg’s (1991) critical theory of technology, which insists that technologies are not fixed but open to re-appropriation. Educators can tactically subvert defaults: layering richer discussion spaces onto skeletal forums, configuring videoconferencing for dialogue rather than broadcast, or reframing dashboard metrics as prompts for reflection instead of compliance. These practices do not remove structural constraints but they reorient how the interface is lived, opening fissures where alternative pedagogies can flourish.

This orientation resonates with critical pedagogy. Freire (2000) emphasised that teaching must both unmask constraints and open spaces for agency, while hooks (1994) argued that transgression is itself an educational act. Biesta (2013) adds that genuine education involves a “beautiful risk”: allowing students to encounter freedom and responsibility in ways that cannot be reduced to metrics or outcomes. To “teach against the interface” is to extend that ethos into digital infrastructures: recognising the hidden curriculum while creating counter-spaces of dialogue, autonomy, and co-creation. This post is therefore less concerned with critique for its own sake and more with strategies educators can deploy tomorrow in their own contexts. By revisiting how platforms silently shape pedagogy, it seeks to highlight both the risks of default logics and the opportunities for tactical resistance. These small acts may not overturn systems, but they sustain the possibility of pedagogy as an imaginative and collective practice within otherwise rigid environments.

The Hidden Curriculum of Platforms

When educators and students log into a learning management system (LMS), they encounter more than a set of neutral tools. The very structure of these systems conveys assumptions about what education is and how it should unfold. Courses are partitioned into modules, activities presented as sequential checklists, and assessment framed through submission portals that reduce performance to compliance tasks. Default linear navigation reinforces the idea that learning should proceed step by step through pre-defined units, rather than being exploratory or dialogic. Bayne (2015) argues that the discourse of “technology-enhanced learning” disguises the extent to which these systems embed narrow pedagogical models, privileging efficiency and administrative oversight. The LMS communicates, without ever stating explicitly, that learning is a process of progression through pre-determined units and that the role of the student is to complete rather than to co-create.

Similar pressures are evident in videoconferencing platforms, now a ubiquitous element of higher education. Tools such as Zoom and Microsoft Teams reproduce one-to-many broadcast as their default arrangement: a host speaks, participants listen, and the interface organises everyone else into muted thumbnails. Williamson, Eynon and Potter (2020) highlight how pandemic pedagogy was shaped by the rapid adoption of digital technologies, with commercial platforms reinforcing models of education centred on delivery and managerial oversight rather than dialogue. During the pandemic, as Fawns (2022) notes, the dominance of “Zoom pedagogy” foregrounded delivery and presence over interaction, normalising education as synchronous transmission. While breakout rooms and collaborative whiteboards exist, the dominant configuration privileges broadcast, subtly normalising pedagogy as delivery. Students learn that their role is to be audience members rather than interlocutors, unless educators deliberately reconfigure the tool to support active discussion.

Dashboards and AI tutors extend this hidden curriculum into the terrain of data and automation. Williamson (2017) has shown how dashboards present education as a series of metrics, completion rates, login frequencies, time-on-task, thereby framing learning as a measurable process of productivity. Knox (2017) adds that such visualisations reposition students as objects of monitoring, encouraging self-surveillance and compliance. AI tutors, meanwhile, exemplify what Selwyn (2019) describes as education’s cultural fixation with automation. Current generative AI tutors, such as those powered by large language models, reinforce the same tendencies: personalised efficiency, rapid explanations, and predictive recommendations. While these affordances may seem supportive, they re-inscribe a model of learning as optimisation, speed, accuracy, and personalisation, at the expense of ambiguity, relationality, and critical questioning.

These design choices do not operate as overt prescriptions but as subtle pedagogical pressures. Margolis (2001) reminds us that the hidden curriculum works precisely because it remains implicit, shaping behaviour through what is normalised as obvious. In the context of platforms, this means students internalise certain orientations toward education: that progress is equated with box-ticking, that authority resides with the instructor’s broadcast, that value is measured in metrics, and that efficiency is the ultimate educational good. Biesta (2013) cautions that such logics undermine the “beautiful risk” of education, the unpredictable encounter with others, ideas, and responsibilities that cannot be reduced to pre-set outcomes. When platforms privilege compliance, broadcast, and measurement, they foreclose possibilities for dialogue, autonomy, and co-creation.

Recognising the hidden curriculum of platforms is not about rejecting technology wholesale but about becoming attentive to how defaults inscribe particular pedagogical values. These silent cues frame how students understand their role, how teachers imagine their practice, and how institutions enact their authority. To work critically with digital systems therefore requires surfacing these tacit pressures and deliberately designing against them. This awareness sets the stage for the strategies considered in the next section: ways of “teaching against the interface” that reclaim agency, foster dialogue, and reopen space for imagination within constrained systems.

Principles for Teaching Against the Interface

If the hidden curriculum of digital platforms privileges delivery, compliance, and measurement, then to teach against the interface requires an alternative orientation. This is not about abandoning technology, which is rarely possible, but about enacting different pedagogical values within constrained systems. Four principles provide a way forward: valuing dialogue over delivery, prioritising agency, re-purposing constraints, and cultivating counter-imaginaries. Each principle resists platform defaults and opens cracks in which alternative pedagogical futures can be nurtured.

Value dialogue over delivery.

Most digital platforms are designed for transmission: LMS modules, lecture recordings, and one-to-many videoconferencing. To work against this requires deliberately centring conversation, exchange, and co-creation. Freire (2000) argued that authentic education emerges through dialogical engagement, while hooks (1994) described the classroom as a community of voices. In practice, this might mean repurposing discussion forums as ongoing collaborative journals rather than compliance checkpoints, or designing live sessions where chat, polls, and collaborative documents ensure many voices are heard. Such strategies refuse the logic of delivery and reassert the centrality of dialogue in education.

Prioritise agency.

Platform defaults often reduce student agency to self-management: ticking boxes, monitoring dashboards, following automated prompts. Teaching against this involves enabling students to shape their learning pathways and exercise authorship. Biesta (2015) stresses the “beautiful risk” of education as an encounter with freedom, which resists predictability. Agency, however, is not only individual choice but relational: students act with and through others. This can be supported by collaborative projects where students define their own research questions, assessments that permit diverse modes of expression, or peer-led teaching sessions. These approaches position students as co-authors of knowledge rather than passive recipients.

Re-purpose constraints.

Constraints need not be purely limiting; they can be canvases for creative subversion. Feenberg (1991) emphasises that technologies are socially shaped and open to re-appropriation. Educators can work tactically with defaults: transforming a mandatory LMS quiz into a collaborative annotation activity, using a rigid discussion board for student-moderated debates, or reconfiguring breakout rooms in videoconferencing platforms to prioritise peer learning. Bayne (2015) critiques the idea of “enhancement” as linear improvement; instead, subversive uses of platforms can expose their assumptions and redirect them toward participatory ends. Re-purposing constraints demonstrates that resistance can be enacted from within.

Cultivate counter-imaginaries.

Finally, teaching against the interface involves refusing to let pedagogy be defined by what platforms can measure. Dashboards and AI tutors privilege efficiency, productivity, and quantification. Against this, educators can cultivate counter-imaginaries of education grounded in relation, ambiguity, and possibility. Arendt (2018) reminds us that education is about preparing the world for plurality and natality, the arrival of new beginnings that cannot be programmed or foreseen. Practically, this might mean encouraging reflective storytelling in online forums, designing activities that emphasise process over outcome, or creating spaces for collective knowledge-building that resist being reduced to metrics. Such counter-imaginaries keep alive the possibility of education as an ethical and imaginative practice.

Taken together, these principles do not dissolve the structural power of platforms but they orient educators toward inhabiting them differently. To value dialogue, foster agency, re-purpose constraints, and cultivate counter-imaginaries is to create pedagogical cracks where freedom and responsibility can emerge. Teaching against the interface is therefore not rejection but refusal: a refusal of the hidden curriculum of platforms, and a commitment to education as a shared project of dialogue, agency, and world-making.

Strategies of Resistance

Teaching against the interface relies not on heroic refusal but on careful, situated tactics that bend platforms toward dialogical and participatory ends. The aim is to make space, within the grain of LMS, videoconferencing, dashboards, and AI tutors, for learning that is conversational, agentic, and collectively authored. Four strategies are especially generative.

Layering discussion.

Rather than relying on a single tool’s discussion feature, educators can build parallel spaces for reflection and dialogue. For instance, an online seminar might combine the LMS forum for reflective posts, a collaborative Google Doc for shared note-making, and a chat backchannel during live sessions where students can annotate and question in real time. This layering diversifies voice and tempo, countering broadcast defaults and enacting what Fawns (2022) describes as “entangled pedagogy,” where practices and technologies co-shape one another. It also reasserts conversation as central to education (Freire, 2000; hooks, 1994; Turkle, 2015) and resists datafication’s tendency to reduce dialogue to countable posts (Williamson, 2017).

Scaffolding autonomy.

Platform defaults often reduce agency to compliance: ticking boxes, following sequential modules, or chasing dashboard indicators. To resist this, tasks can be designed to foreground choice and responsibility. Students might select from option-rich briefs, set their own research questions, or determine group criteria for success. Autonomy here is both individual and relational, learners act with and through peers. Biesta (2015) describes education as the “beautiful risk” of freedom, and Deci and Ryan’s (2000) Self-Determination Theory reinforces that autonomy, competence, and relatedness underpin motivation. Scaffolding autonomy, then, involves structuring flexibility without abandonment: peer-designed milestones, reflective checkpoints, or rubrics that allow diverse forms of evidence. These tactics counteract platform logics that equate autonomy with self-management of pre-determined tasks.

Creating counter-spaces.

Students often create their own spaces beyond institutional platforms, WhatsApp groups, Discord servers, shared drives. Rather than dismissing these as distractions, educators can encourage or even integrate them as legitimate pedagogical sites. Such counter-spaces function as communities of practice where participation and identity co-evolve (Lave and Wenger, 1991; Wenger, 1998). They extend learning beyond the LMS “container,” aligning with research on networked and crowd learning (Dron and Anderson, 2014). At the same time, counter-spaces raise questions of equity and visibility: not all students have access, and such spaces may remain invisible to staff. Acknowledging these tensions allows counter-spaces to be cultivated responsibly, as places where learners experiment with authorship and collaboration outside rigid workflows.

Tactical visibility and invisibility.

Because platforms privilege what can be measured, some pedagogical work benefits from being visible to dashboards, while other work should remain deliberately off-metric. For example, making collaborative synthesis documents visible can scaffold participation, while keeping exploratory peer discussions on an untracked channel can protect intellectual risk-taking. Knox (2017) shows how data visualisations encourage self-surveillance; resisting this sometimes means ignoring prompts or misusing defaults. Educators can tactically repurpose features, a “quiz” becomes a collaborative annotation activity, or allow certain activities to remain invisible to the system. As de Certeau (1984) suggests, such tactics inhabit systems differently, re-appropriating spaces of constraint for alternative ends.

Together, these strategies surface the hidden curriculum while refusing its inevitability. Layering discussion diversifies voice and tempo; scaffolding autonomy stages freedom with care; counter-spaces relocate authorship; tactical visibility and invisibility keep learning oriented to judgment rather than metrics. Teaching against the interface thus becomes a practice of small but significant interventions, acts of imagination and craft within, and sometimes against, the constraints of platforms.

Examples in Practice

Principles and strategies become meaningful when translated into situated examples. Teaching against the interface is not abstract refusal but concrete reworking of the tools that structure contemporary higher education. These practices demonstrate how dialogue, agency, and imagination can be sustained within and against platform defaults.

LMS subversions.

Against the compliance-driven design of the LMS, educators can stage practices that privilege dialogue over delivery. The linear module structure, often used to upload slides or readings, can be reframed as a sequence of provocations: each “unit” hosting a shared forum, collaborative annotation, or student-moderated debate. A module might become a collaborative timeline of key arguments built by students across a semester. Similarly, assessment submission folders can be repurposed as co-created archives: students upload artefacts, peer-review each other’s work, and curate thematic collections. Such subversions exemplify Feenberg’s (1991) notion of re-appropriation, showing that even rigid defaults can be bent toward participatory ends. Bayne (2015) reminds us that the very language of “enhancement” obscures these possibilities; resistance requires exposing and reworking the pedagogical logics encoded in the LMS.

Synchronous dialogue.

Videoconferencing tools like Zoom and Teams default to broadcast, with instructors central and students muted. These defaults can be disrupted by redesigning sessions around small-group dialogue with rotating facilitation, or collective annotation using shared documents. An online seminar, for example, might pair breakout groups with a collaborative whiteboard where ideas are pooled, or include a live chat channel where students annotate in parallel with discussion. Fawns (2022) argues for “entangled pedagogy” that attends to how teaching and technology are mutually configured. Pairing synchronous interventions with asynchronous follow-ups, such as collaborative annotation of lecture recordings, can deepen continuity. Such redesign resists the hidden curriculum of broadcast and enacts the seminar-like ethos of dialogue within digital environments.

Playful AI interventions.

AI tutors are often promoted as replacements for teachers, promising efficiency and scalability (Selwyn, 2019). Yet recent scholarship cautions that this framing obscures deeper political stakes. Knox (2023) argues that AI in education must be “repoliticised”: rather than treating automation as a neutral tool governed by ethics checklists, we need to foreground questions of power, participation, and who benefits from data-driven systems. Similarly, Williamson, Macgilchrist and Potter (2023) emphasise that AI and automation cannot be reduced to technical fixes but must be understood as practices that reshape pedagogy, authority, and educational governance. Teaching against the interface therefore requires reframing AI as a tool for provocation rather than substitution. Chatbots can role-play as historical figures or fictional characters, sparking debate that students later critique. Generative AI might be tasked with producing contentious arguments that students then deconstruct, exposing the limits of machine “knowledge” and surfacing the logics of automation. Such uses are playful rather than deferential: AI becomes a mirror for reflection and critical dialogue, not a surrogate instructor. In this way, automation is re-appropriated as a catalyst for critical pedagogy, making hidden structures visible and contestable.

Cross-platform layering.

The LMS rarely offers all the affordances of participatory pedagogy. Critical educators therefore orchestrate layering: combining institutional tools with open, student-led spaces. Official resources might sit in the LMS, but reflective dialogue could unfold on Padlet, brainstorming on Miro, and community building in Fediverse groups. Dron and Anderson (2014) describe such networked learning as “teaching crowds,” where participation is distributed across tools and contexts. These spaces exemplify resistance to closure, ensuring pedagogy is not defined solely by metrics. Yet equity and access matter: not all students can easily join external platforms, and questions of privacy and recognition arise. Cultivating such spaces responsibly requires negotiation. As Arendt (2018) argued, education prepares the world for plurality and natality, the arrival of new beginnings. Her account of plurality can be read as a reminder that digital education should preserve space for new beginnings that exceed platform scripts.

These examples show that resistance is enacted through everyday tactics, repurposed modules, redesigned seminars, playful AI, layered tools, that subvert defaults and sustain dialogue, agency, and imagination. By working both with and against platforms, educators refuse the hidden curriculum and keep alive education’s role as a shared project of renewal.

Reflection

The strategies described here are not grand gestures of refusal but tactical acts of re-appropriation. As de Certeau (2011) reminds us, tactics inhabit systems from within, seizing opportunities and bending routines. Teaching against the interface involves precisely this kind of tactical practice: small, situated moves that resist default logics while still operating within institutional platforms. When an LMS module is repurposed for dialogue, or a chatbot is reframed as a provocation rather than a tutor, the system is neither abandoned nor accepted wholesale. It is lived differently, oriented to other values. These practices illuminate how power operates through defaults and, at the same time, how agency can be exercised to unsettle them.

The cumulative effect of such acts is more than incremental improvement of pedagogy. Each act resists the narrow framing of platforms as delivery and compliance systems. But taken together, they also prefigure alternatives: they demonstrate that learning can be dialogical rather than transmissive, collaborative rather than individualised, and imaginative rather than metric-driven. Feenberg (1991) argues that technologies are not neutral tools but socially shaped structures, open to reinterpretation and redesign. When educators use platforms subversively, they model that possibility. Bayne (2015) critiques the discourse of “enhancement” for treating technologies as value-neutral add-ons that improve efficiency, obscuring how they shape pedagogy in restrictive ways. Resistance shows that genuine enhancement lies not in more features but in rethinking educational relations altogether. These everyday tactics thus hint at new institutional imaginaries where platforms support co-creation rather than enforce compliance.

Reflection on these practices also situates them within traditions of pedagogy as care, autonomy, and shared responsibility. hooks (1994) emphasises that teaching is a practice of freedom enacted through dialogue and respect for student voices. Freire (2000) insists that authentic pedagogy is grounded in mutual recognition and co-learning. When students transform an LMS forum into a space of peer mentoring, or when a synchronous session is structured around collaborative annotation rather than lecture, these are not minor tweaks but acts that embody care and responsibility. Against the background of platforms that reduce education to metrics and tasks, such acts keep alive an ethic of care. They signal that education is not only about knowledge transmission but also about cultivating responsibility to others and to the shared world.

At the same time, resistance is fragile. Individual tactics can be co-opted, and institutional structures remain powerful. Selwyn (2022) cautions that education technology is embedded in political economies and institutional agendas, reminding us that small-scale practices cannot dismantle systemic logics on their own. Yet, as Arendt (2018) argues, education prepares the world for plurality and natality, the arrival of new beginnings. Arendt’s account of natality can be read as a reminder that even in datafied education, educators must preserve spaces where new beginnings emerge beyond platform metrics. Tactical acts matter because they keep that possibility alive: they sustain openings where alternative ways of teaching and learning can be imagined and enacted.

Teaching against the interface is thus not a rejection of technology but a refusal of its hidden curriculum. It is a practice of care, enacted through dialogue; of autonomy, nurtured through choice and responsibility; and of shared responsibility, sustained in community. Tactical resistance does not end structural critique but extends it into everyday practice. In doing so, it ensures that the pedagogical encounter remains a site where freedom, relation, and imagination can continue to emerge.

Conclusion

The urgency of teaching against the interface lies in recognising that platforms will not stop shaping pedagogy. Learning management systems, videoconferencing tools, dashboards, and AI tutors are now deeply embedded in higher education. Their defaults configure not only how courses are administered but also how teaching and learning are imagined. To leave these defaults unchallenged is to accept a hidden curriculum that normalises education as compliance, efficiency, and data capture. Yet, as critical pedagogy reminds us, education is never simply the transmission of knowledge but the making of subjects, relations, and worlds (Freire, 2000; hooks, 1994). If platforms exert silent pressures on pedagogy, then educators must find ways to exert counter-pressures that reassert dialogue, agency, and care.

Resistance is not wholesale rejection of technology. As Feenberg (1991) argues, technologies are socially shaped and open to re-appropriation. The task is not to abandon platforms but to bend them differently: to use defaults against themselves, to re-purpose constraints as opportunities, and to create cracks in the interface where alternative pedagogical futures can be enacted. A repurposed LMS quiz used for collaborative annotation, for example, signals how even the most rigid features can be bent toward dialogue. Bayne (2015) critiques the discourse of “enhancement” for framing digital tools as neutral supplements to efficiency, masking how they embed pedagogical assumptions. Teaching against the interface means refusing those assumptions and creatively re-using the systems at hand. It is neither naive embrace nor outright refusal, but a tactical inhabiting that reclaims pedagogical freedom.

The cumulative effect of these small acts is more than modest improvement of pedagogy. On one hand, they resist: undermining the narrowing of education into delivery, metrics, or automation. On the other hand, they prefigure: modelling that learning can be collaborative, dialogical, and imaginative even within systems built for control. Feenberg (1991) shows that technologies are not neutral; when educators subvert platform defaults, they demonstrate this malleability. What begins as tactical subversion contributes, in Feenberg’s later terms, to “democratic rationalisation”, the gradual transformation of technology through user resistance and re-appropriation (Feenberg, 1999).

Reflection must temper this hope with realism. Selwyn (2022) cautions that education technology is entangled with political economies and institutional agendas; small-scale practices cannot dismantle systemic logics on their own. But their significance lies in creating spaces where pedagogy can be enacted differently, even provisionally. They signal that imagination does not vanish under platformisation but adapts, persists, and sometimes flourishes. These practices keep alive the possibility that education can resist closure and sustain openness to renewal.

As Arendt (2018) argued, education prepares the ground for plurality and natality, the continual arrival of new beginnings. Her notion of natality can be read as a reminder that even in platformised, datafied education, educators must preserve spaces where new beginnings can emerge beyond the limits of metrics and defaults. Each creative subversion enacts a fragment of this possibility, sustaining an openness to futures not yet foreclosed.

In conclusion, teaching against the interface is both urgent and possible. Urgent, because platforms will continue to shape pedagogy in ways that risk narrowing its purpose; possible, because educators can act otherwise. Resistance is not rejection but creative re-use: inhabiting systems tactically, repurposing constraints, and opening cracks where freedom, care, and plurality can emerge. Each act of resistance contributes to an institutional imagination that envisions education not as compliance with technological imperatives but as a shared project of dialogue, responsibility, and renewal. These acts do not resolve the tensions of platformised education, but they keep alive the possibility that pedagogy remains a site of freedom and imagination, an opening onto futures not yet foreclosed.

Bibliography

Arendt, H. (2018) The Human Condition. Second edition. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press.
Bayne, S. (2015) ’What’s the matter with “technology-enhanced learning”?’, Learning, Media and Technology, 40(1), pp. 5–20. https://doi.org/10.1080/17439884.2014.915851
Biesta, G. J. J. (2013) The Beautiful Risk of Education. Boulder, CO: Paradigm Publishers.
de Certeau, M. (2011) The Practice of Everyday Life. Berkeley: University of California Press. https://ebookcentral-proquest-com.manchester.idm.oclc.org/lib/manchester/detail.action?docID=922939
Deci, E.L. and Ryan, R.M. (2000) ’The “What” and “Why” of Goal Pursuits: Human Needs and the Self-Determination of Behavior’. Psychological inquiry, 11(4), pp.227–268. https://doi.org/10.1207/S15327965PLI1104_01
Dron, J. and Anderson, T. (2014) Teaching Crowds: Learning and Social Media. Edmonton: Athabasca University Press. http://doi.org/10.15215/aupress/9781927356807.01
Fawns, T. (2022) ’An entangled pedagogy: Looking beyond the pedagogy–technology dichotomy’, Postdigital Science and Education, 4, pp. 711–728. https://doi.org/10.1007/s42438-022-00302-7
Feenberg, A. (1991) Critical Theory of Technology. New York: Oxford University Press.
Feenberg, A. (1999) Questioning Technology. London: Routledge.
Freire, P. (2000) Pedagogy of the Oppressed. 30th anniversary edn. New York: Continuum.
hooks, b. (1994) Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom. New York: Routledge.
Knox, J. (2017). ’Data Power in Education: Exploring Critical Awareness with the “Learning Analytics Report Card”’. Television & New Media, 18(8), 734-752. https://doi-org.manchester.idm.oclc.org/10.1177/1527476417690029
Knox, J. (2023) ’(Re)politicising data-driven education: from ethical principles to radical participation’, Learning, Media and Technology, 48(2), pp. 200–212. https://doi.org/10.1080/17439884.2022.2158466
Lave, J. and Wenger, E. (1991) Situated Learning: Legitimate Peripheral Participation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Margolis, E. (ed.) (2001) The Hidden Curriculum in Higher Education. New York: Routledge.
Selwyn, N. (2019) Should Robots Replace Teachers? AI and the Future of Education. Cambridge: Polity Press.
Selwyn, N. (2022) Education and Technology: Key Issues and Debates. London: Bloomsbury Academic. http://dx.doi.org/10.5040/9781350145573
Turkle, S. (2015) Reclaiming Conversation: The Power of Talk in a Digital Age. New York: Penguin Press.
Wenger, E. (1998) Communities of Practice: Learning, Meaning, and Identity. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. https://app.kortext.com/Shibboleth.sso/Login?entityID=https://shib.manchester.ac.uk/shibboleth&target=https://app.kortext.com/borrow/20252.
Williamson, B. (2017) Big Data in Education: The Digital Future of Learning, Policy and Practice. London: SAGE Publications Ltd.
Williamson, B, Eynon, R and Potter, J (2020), ’Pandemic politics, pedagogies and practices: Digital technologies and distance education during the coronavirus emergency’, Learning, Media and Technology, vol. 45, no. 2, pp. 107-114. https://doi.org/10.1080/17439884.2020.1761641
Williamson, B., Macgilchrist, F., & Potter, J. (2023). Re-examining AI, automation and datafication in education. Learning, Media and Technology, 48(1), 1–5. https://doi-org.manchester.idm.oclc.org/10.1080/17439884.2023.2167830