The classroom of the future doesn't sound like fun to me

Manual whiteboards with their squeaky pens and stinky cloths will be a thing of the past, although I am sure teachers will still manage to find ingenious ways to make their writing completely illegible on the whiz-bang computerised versions. They might even perfect a new keyboard font, so that when they type in their notes they will appear as if by magic on the classroom big screens in text that looks like it has been scratched on the wall by a partially-sighted, arthritic spider.

So, no major changes there then. But what on earth will they be able to throw at young Jenkins on the back row when he picks his nose and flicks it at their scrupulously polished whiteboard? Blackboard rubbers have long since been consigned to the scrap heap, and when squeaky pens and stinky cloths follow, what then?

Throwing a computer mouse is no good; it would just bungee its way back. And lobbing a laptop would be equally unrewarding because a) they will probably be so small and light in the future that Jenkins won't even notice and will continue picking and flicking regardless; b) a lawsuit will soon follow, prompting the headteacher to lose his or her last remaining marble; and c) you won't be able to log on to www.bignbouncy.com in the lunch break.

You see, if only Ms Morris had consulted teachers working at the chalkface of education then her recent announcement of £100 million for laptops for 100,000 teachers would have included an additional small-print clause that read: all computers will come complete with laser-guided squeaky pens and downloadable stinky cloths.

Providing every pupil with a laptop connected to a cyberspace library is an entirely more straightforward proposal to hypothesise about, mainly because it ain't going to happen any time soon.

Equipping every school age child in the country with their own computer would cost billions and, if we have learned one thing about this Government in the last five years, it is that education, education, education is a priority unless it costs money, money, money.

Apart from the obvious advantages laptops would bring - up-to-the-minute information, global communication, yadda, yadda, yadda - they would also allow our children to shrug off their Neanderthal gait and walk upright once again.

Anyone who has witnessed the sorry sight of bent, bow-legged youngsters staggering to school with bags the size of bathtubs on their backs will know what I mean. For whatever reason, most schools have done away with lockers, leaving children to carry all their worldly goods, including their priceless collection of chewed biros, around with them all day.

Laptops would also allow messages about a jug-eared teacher's uncanny resemblance to a Ford Escort with the doors open or the latest gossip on Melissa Micklethwaite's love life (she does anything for a packet of B&H and a KFC bargain bucket, apparently) to be carried quickly and quietly around the classroom, if not the whole school, without the need for pen, paper or inept subterfuge.

But laptops would not be all good news.

There would be fewer excuses for not doing your homework for a start. Everything would be saved on disk, on the hard drive or perhaps even on a mainframe and, even if you were at death's door suffering from rampant acne or terminal athlete's foot, you would still be able to e-mail in your homework.

The dog ate my computer just wouldn't cut it, I'm afraid.

And finally, when you are pondering the pros and cons of computerised learning, ponder this for a moment too: pencil cases would be redundant.

Where would you scribble Shaz 4 Baz 4 Ever, where would you shove your chuddy (that's chewing gum to the grown-ups amongst you) when the headteacher looms, and where would you house your unique collection of fruit shaped rubbers from around the world?

Down with new technology, I say, and bring back the slate!

Updated: 09:09 Tuesday, January 15, 2002