The Day I Learned Conway's Law in a Primary School Computer Lab

A moment of obligation is when you see something so fundamentally wrong that you can't unsee it.

Mine happened 18 years ago on my first day at an international school. I took this picture of one of my students struggling to use a computer in our lab and kept it because it perfectly captures the effects of a law we all experience but few can name: Conway's Law, identified in 1968.

She and her classmates needed to click through the Windows XP setup at every login. Twenty+ popups requiring precise clicks from 8-year-olds, just to open a web browser. IT had implemented this configuration in good faith to provide "security" and “protect the machines from USB viruses" They solved their problem (potential viruses) but created ours (the first four minutes of every class lost to digital obstacle courses).

This is Conway's Law in action: IT's internal communication structure—focused on security and system integrity—produced a system that reflected those priorities. Student learning wasn't part of their communication loop, so it wasn't part of their system design.

Eighteen years later, I'm still pursuing the obligation that moment created. Technology integration isn't a technical problem; it's a human problem that requires humane solutions. Every day I see brilliant educators working in systems designed by well-meaning people who've never watched a child's curiosity die behind a janky login sequence.

What we call "yak shaving"—time spent on tedious, indirect tasks that prevent real work—destroys collective efficacy.

And collective efficacy, according to Hattie's research, has the greatest effect on student achievement of any factor we can control.

When we optimize for “Technology” instead of the humans using it, we've already failed.