Selecting Online Learning Technologies: An Interview with Tony Bates

Choosing online learning technology sounds simple until you are the person who actually has to do it. Then the cheerful promise of “all-in-one solutions” turns into twelve browser tabs, three vendor demos, one exhausted committee, and a growing suspicion that the word intuitive has been doing some very heavy lifting. That is exactly why Tony Bates’s thinking still matters. Long before schools and colleges were flooded with dashboards, plug-ins, AI add-ons, and “revolutionary” platforms that all look suspiciously similar after lunch, Bates argued that educators should stop selecting tools because they are new and start selecting them because they serve learning.

This article revisits the core ideas associated with Tony Bates’s famous conversation about selecting online learning technologies and updates them for today’s teaching reality. The result is not a museum piece. It is a practical, modern guide for instructors, instructional designers, administrators, and academic leaders who want better outcomes, fewer expensive mistakes, and less shiny-object syndrome. The central message is wonderfully stubborn: start with students, let pedagogy lead, and make every technology earn its place in the course.

Why this conversation still matters

Online learning is no longer a side project for emergency situations, continuing education units, or that one professor who really loves discussion boards. It is now woven into higher education, K-12 instruction, workforce training, and professional development. But as digital learning expands, so does the number of tools competing for attention: learning management systems, quiz platforms, discussion apps, video tools, AI tutors, annotation systems, collaboration suites, virtual labs, proctoring services, and analytics dashboards.

The danger is obvious. When schools select technology too quickly, they often end up with tools that are flashy but hard to use, powerful but inaccessible, or clever but disconnected from the actual learning goals. Bates pushed against that habit early. His approach remains valuable because it treats technology selection as an educational decision, not a shopping spree with better fonts.

The heart of Tony Bates’s advice: use a framework, not a hunch

Bates is widely associated with the SECTIONS model, a framework for evaluating educational technologies. In the earlier interview version of the model, the letters referred to Students, Ease of use, Cost, Teaching, Interaction, Organizational issues, Novelty, Speed, and Security. In later versions commonly used in his teaching materials, the framework is streamlined around Students, Ease of use, Costs, Teaching functions, Interaction, Organizational issues, Networking, and Security and privacy. The exact wording evolved, but the core principle did not: good technology decisions come from examining several dimensions at once, not from falling in love with one cool feature and hoping the rest will sort itself out.

That matters because educational technology never exists in isolation. A tool may be affordable but inaccessible. It may be engaging but impossible to integrate with the LMS. It may be easy for faculty but miserable for students on mobile devices. It may look brilliant in a demo and then collapse under the cruelest classroom question of all: “What happens on week seven when thirty people try to submit at once?”

SECTIONS, translated for modern online learning

Students: Start with who they are, not what vendors promise

The first question is not “What can this tool do?” It is “Who are our learners?” Bates consistently emphasizes students as the starting point, and that is where smart selection begins. Are your learners full-time undergraduates, working adults, first-year students, multilingual learners, or professionals taking short online modules after work? Do they use laptops, tablets, or mostly phones? Do they have reliable broadband? Are they comfortable with digital tools, or are they already overwhelmed by too many platforms?

A discussion app might look wonderful to a design team, but if students must create extra accounts, remember another password, and navigate a cluttered interface on a phone, the learning experience can turn into a scavenger hunt with deadlines. Likewise, a sophisticated video tool may be worth using in a media course, but it might be overkill for a survey class that only needs quick feedback and clear instruction. Student access, learner variability, and real-world context should shape the choice before a contract ever appears.

Ease of use: Friction is not rigor

Bates has long warned educators not to confuse technological complexity with educational value. A tool that requires five tutorials, two support tickets, and one spiritual awakening is not necessarily deeper than a simple, well-designed alternative. Ease of use affects everything: student persistence, faculty adoption, training burden, and technical support costs.

In practice, this means asking plainspoken questions. Can students find what they need in under a minute? Can instructors set up activities without calling the instructional design office every Thursday? Is the mobile experience decent? Are the directions obvious? Can a new adjunct learn the basics quickly? If the answer to these questions is “eventually,” that is usually administrator-speak for “no.”

Cost: The sticker price is only the opening act

One of the most useful parts of Bates’s framework is the reminder that cost is more than licensing. The real cost of online learning technology includes onboarding, migration, support, troubleshooting, faculty training, accessibility remediation, integration work, updates, and the time students lose when a tool is confusing. A “cheap” platform that creates endless help-desk chaos can become the most expensive choice in the room.

Good decisions look at total cost of ownership. A campus may save money by using tools that already integrate with the existing LMS, identity system, and gradebook. A department may reduce long-term cost by avoiding products that duplicate features already available elsewhere. And sometimes the wisest purchase is no purchase at all, because the instructional problem can be solved with a simpler tool already in the ecosystem.

Teaching functions: Let pedagogy drive the purchase

This is where Bates is especially sharp. Technology should be selected for the teaching function it performs. Does the tool improve explanation, practice, discussion, collaboration, feedback, reflection, simulation, assessment, or community-building? If you cannot name the instructional purpose in one sentence, the tool probably does not belong in the course.

For example, an online annotation tool may be excellent when the goal is close reading and collaborative interpretation. A polling platform may help in synchronous sessions that need quick checks for understanding. A virtual lab may justify a higher learning curve if it allows students to practice procedures they otherwise could not access safely or affordably. But no tool deserves adoption simply because it makes a slide deck spin, sparkle, or arrive wearing the word innovation like a name tag at a conference.

Interaction: Build the kind of engagement the course actually needs

Online learning technologies are often sold as “engaging,” but that word is as slippery as a greased eel in a faculty meeting. Bates’s framework encourages a better question: what kind of interaction does the course need? Student-to-content? Student-to-student? Student-to-instructor? Small-group collaboration? Timely feedback? Peer review? Shared problem-solving?

A course heavy on case analysis may need strong discussion and annotation tools. A skills-based course may need simulation, practice, and feedback loops. A graduate seminar might benefit from fewer tools overall but richer asynchronous interaction. The point is not maximum interaction at all times. The point is purposeful interaction that matches the learning outcomes. Too many platforms can scatter attention instead of deepening it.

Organizational issues: The institution has to live with this choice

Bates never treats technology as a purely personal decision, and that is one reason his framework remains practical. Even if an individual instructor can make a tool work, institutions still need policies, training plans, support workflows, accessibility processes, procurement standards, and governance. That is why modern LMS selection and edtech evaluation increasingly involve multiple stakeholders: faculty, students, IT, procurement, accessibility specialists, privacy officers, library staff, and instructional designers.

In other words, the right question is not only “Can we buy this?” but also “Can we support this, scale this, govern this, and explain this six months from now?” If the answer depends on one enthusiastic champion who may leave next semester, the choice is riskier than it looks.

Novelty, networking, and the trap of shiny tools

One interesting detail in the Bates conversation is that the earlier version of SECTIONS highlights Novelty, while later versions often emphasize Networking. Both ideas are useful. Novelty matters because new tools can attract attention, open fresh possibilities, and sometimes wake up stale course design. But novelty is also dangerous when schools mistake excitement for evidence.

Networking matters because digital tools can connect learners to peers, experts, professional communities, and public audiences. That can be a genuine educational gain. Still, connection should not be added like decorative parsley. It should serve a clear learning purpose. If social features help students build professional identity or collaborate meaningfully, wonderful. If they mostly produce notifications and confusion, fewer bells are the better music.

Security and privacy: The grown-up part of edtech selection

This dimension has become even more important over time. If a tool collects student data, schools need to ask hard questions about privacy, data use, consent, storage, access, and risk. In the United States, educators also have to pay attention to FERPA-related concerns and local approval processes. “It was free” is not a legal strategy, and “the vendor seemed nice on Zoom” is not a privacy audit.

A modern online learning technology should be evaluated for confidentiality, security practices, account management, and clarity about how data flows between systems. Schools also need to examine whether AI features use student content, whether recordings are stored safely, and whether the tool requires unnecessary exposure of personally identifiable information. The smarter institutions do not bolt privacy on at the end. They make it part of selection from day one.

What Bates’s framework needs in today’s market

If Tony Bates were revisiting this conversation for today’s technology landscape, the old framework would still work, but the checklist around it would be sharper. Three additions now feel unavoidable.

Accessibility must be a starting condition, not a patch

Accessibility is not a bonus feature for a small subgroup of learners. It is part of quality course design. A tool should support captions, transcripts, alt text, keyboard navigation, readable layouts, and compatibility with assistive technology. Better yet, institutions should look for products designed around inclusive principles from the beginning. Universal Design for Learning has pushed this conversation in the right direction by reminding educators that learner variability is normal, not exceptional.

Put bluntly, if a tool only works smoothly for students with strong bandwidth, perfect hearing, perfect vision, and lots of extra time, it is not a strong online learning technology. It is a narrow one.

Interoperability saves more pain than most people realize

Schools are often tempted to judge tools one at a time, but the real learning environment is an ecosystem. That makes interoperability a serious issue, not a technical footnote. Can the tool connect to the LMS? Can it roster students automatically? Can it pass grades back securely? Can it reduce duplicate logins and administrative mess? Standards such as LTI matter because they make online learning less fragmented for both students and instructors.

When interoperability is weak, instructors become part-time systems integrators, and nobody signed up for that when they decided to teach sociology, chemistry, or business writing.

Pilots should produce evidence, not just vibes

Many institutions now use pilots before broader adoption, and that is wise. But a pilot should not be a casual trial followed by a polite email saying everyone “liked the tool.” It should gather structured feedback from faculty and students, compare similar products fairly, test accessibility and support needs, and measure whether the technology actually improves learning, workflow, or both.

The best modern selection processes ask vendors to show how the product meets instructional goals, accessibility expectations, privacy requirements, and integration needs. That shift is important. It moves the conversation away from marketing claims and toward evidence.

A practical decision process for selecting online learning technologies

For educators and institutions trying to turn all this into action, a smart process usually looks like this: define the learning problem first, identify the essential teaching function, map the student context, screen for accessibility and privacy requirements, check integration and support realities, pilot with real users, and then decide. That sounds less glamorous than “transform your digital ecosystem by Thursday,” but it works better.

The beauty of the Bates approach is that it slows people down in a productive way. It replaces gadget worship with educational judgment. It also keeps institutions from overbuying. Not every course needs a brand-new platform. Sometimes the best move is to use fewer tools more intentionally, with stronger guidance, clearer expectations, and better alignment to learning outcomes.

Conclusion: The best online learning technology is the one that earns its keep

Tony Bates’s great contribution is not a list of favorite tools. It is a way of thinking. He reminds us that selecting online learning technologies is never just a technical decision. It is a pedagogical, organizational, ethical, and student-centered decision. That is why his ideas still feel fresh. The names of the platforms may change. The vendor brochures may become glossier. The AI features may become louder. But the fundamental question remains the same: does this technology help students learn better, more fairly, and with less friction?

That is the question worth asking in every demo, every procurement meeting, every course redesign session, and every moment when someone says, “This tool is amazing,” but cannot explain what problem it solves. In online learning, the smartest institutions do not chase every new gadget. They choose technologies that fit the learners, support the teaching, respect the data, include the widest range of students, and integrate cleanly into the larger system. In other words, they do exactly what Bates told us to do: think before we click.

Experiences from the field: what educators learn the hard way

One of the most common experiences in online learning is discovering that the “best” tool on paper is not always the best tool in practice. A department may spend weeks comparing features and then realize, during the first month of class, that students are ignoring the tool because they already feel overloaded by the LMS, email, course messaging, and video meetings. In that moment, the problem is no longer technical capacity. It is cognitive overload. Educators often learn that every new platform has a hidden tax: time, attention, and emotional energy.

Another familiar experience happens when faculty choose tools based on what they themselves find exciting. An instructor who loves multimedia may adopt a polished video discussion platform because it feels more human than text. Sometimes that works beautifully. Other times, students in low-bandwidth environments struggle to upload clips, multilingual learners prefer writing before speaking, and several students quietly wish the class would just let them type a thoughtful response and move on with their lives. The lesson is not “never innovate.” The lesson is that teacher enthusiasm must be tested against student reality.

Instructional designers also see a recurring pattern during tool pilots. At first, a vendor demonstration makes everything look effortless. The interface is clean, the sample course is gorgeous, and every button behaves like it knows it is being watched. But once the tool enters a real course, the honest questions show up. Can students locate assignments quickly? Can grades sync correctly? Can captions be edited? What happens when a screen reader encounters a custom widget? Can the help desk solve issues without escalating every ticket? These ordinary, unglamorous questions often determine success more than the features that originally won the room.

Accessibility work brings another powerful set of experiences. Many institutions do not fully grasp the issue until a student needs support immediately. Then the organization discovers whether accessibility was built into the process or treated like an afterthought. Teams that prepared well usually have templates, review checklists, captioning workflows, and clear accountability. Teams that did not prepare often scramble, and scrambling is a terrible design philosophy. Educators repeatedly learn that inclusive design is not only the right thing to do; it is also the calmer, smarter, and more sustainable way to build online learning.

Privacy and security create their own hard-earned wisdom. Faculty sometimes find a free tool online, love the interface, and want to use it tomorrow. Then come the questions about student accounts, data collection, and approval processes. That can feel frustrating in the moment, but institutions that have experienced security incidents or privacy concerns rarely treat those questions as bureaucratic trivia. They understand that trust is part of the learning environment too. Students should not have to trade unnecessary personal data for participation in class.

Perhaps the most encouraging experience, though, is what happens when technology selection goes well. Courses feel clearer. Students know where to go and what to do. Faculty spend less time troubleshooting and more time teaching. Support staff are not buried in avoidable confusion. The tools fade into the background, which is exactly where good educational technology belongs. When a platform is selected wisely, the course feels more human, not less. That may be the most Tony Bates lesson of all: the goal is not to make learning more technological. The goal is to make technology more educational.