John describes himself as “technology-stressed.”At the beginning of this year, after spending 15 months in a Zambian refugee camp, John’s biggest apprehension was about his ability to re-immerse himself in the frantic, digital world of college life. He remembered the incessant emails, the PowerPoint slides and the ringing cell phones during lecture. However, the smiling faces from his refugee camp (many of whom had never seen an email, or even knew how to write) still played on the film reel of his mind. Knowing their happiness even in the absence of technology gave John hope that his return to Stanford could be defined by finding the right balance of the digital and the off-line.

Arriving back on campus, John discovered that student life’s inundation with technology had increased during his absence. So why did John feel uncomfortable? Technology enables...right?

Instead, day after day, John sat in French class as slides passed by too quickly for note taking. “Don’t worry about taking notes,” the professor said. “I’ll post everything online after class.” Buzzers prone to malfunctions replaced raised hands in his economics class, and more students were noticeably disengaged (noticeable if one were to stand in the back of the lecture hall and observe all the open Facebook and New York Times browser windows on laptop screens).

John isn’t learning in class anymore, and he blames technology. In order to pass his classes, John must interact with the material he is trying to learn by copiously annotating textbook margins. Instead of flashing a diagram briefly across a screen, he wishes that professors would spend class time drawing and explaining the information rather than deferring students to Coursework after class.

It seems as if technology has allowed professors to become increasingly disconnected from their students, and vice versa.

Technology’s hindrance to the ideal educational experience is just one example of the increasing anonymity and separation caused by our digital world. The corner store of yesteryear (a location that often served as an informal community center) has been replaced by virtual marketplaces and automated transactions. And people aren’t just distanced from others; they can even become removed from themselves. John recalls a recent visit with his high school librarian who spoke glowingly of her “digital self” on Second Life, where this middle-aged woman with generous curves parades as a skinny blonde perpetually wearing a pink bikini.

John also notes a disconnect between technology and the awareness of its consumption. For instance, if a computer is left on idle (let’s just say after watching “An Inconvenient Truth,” for the purpose of illustration), people rarely think about the coal being burnt to power that computer while it’s inactive. As another example, technology has afforded us the ability to make abundant use of paper cups and plastic utensils, yet I know I never think of how many inches of waste I’ve added to the local dump due to my careless use of disposable materials at the many Stanford picnics I’ve attended. However, John does think about these things. After spending more than a year in Africa, John constantly thinks about everything he uses and where it comes from. The lack of technology at the refugee camp forced John to feel the weight of his water as he carried it from the well and to see his own garbage in the trash pit in his backyard. Back in America, I take for granted my automatic plumbing and Monday curbside trash pickups. Technological advances have distanced consumers from their consumption.

Ultimately, this column doesn’t intend to slander technology or diminish its benefits — my intention is to increase readers’ awareness of how technology affects themselves, the people around them and the world at large, in spite of how difficult it may be to think about the bigger picture. It’s much easier to turn on a light switch than to think about dams and nuclear power plants, and it’s much easier to create a bad PowerPoint slide than it is to think about how well its viewers may be interacting with the material presented.

John assured me that he does not feel like a victim of technology. He recognizes that technology aids his life, and the lives of others, in many fantastic ways. However, he realizes that some people can be victimized by technology through its careless misuse. In an effort to avoid this, John establishes boundaries on the role that technology plays in his life. Sometimes he allows his cell phone battery to simply run down, and when we met for coffee, he brought his own reusable mug. And as John’s mind continues to reacclimate to the American lifestyle, he holds tightly to the lessons of his Zambian experience.