Educational technologists occupy a liminal position within the university. We are not quite academic, not quite IT. We translate, interpret, and mediate between strategic demands, technological capabilities, and pedagogical possibilities (Clegg, 2008). This position is both enabling and constraining.

On the one hand, it grants us access to a wide range of conversations—across faculties, disciplines, and professional services. We see patterns others might miss. On the other hand, we are often expected to remain neutral, to implement rather than question. Our proximity to technology means we are sometimes viewed as operational rather than pedagogical actors.

Yet it is precisely this positioning that gives us opportunities to surface alternative ways of thinking and doing.

Much of the most meaningful work in educational technology is invisible. It happens not in published strategy documents but in corridor conversations, design workshops, and one-to-one discussions with overworked academics (Bayne, 2015).

It is here that quiet forms of resistance can emerge: nudging a colleague to consider inclusive design rather than default templates; reframing a conversation about learning analytics into one about student agency; using open tools to create space for collaboration beyond the LMS.

These are not headline-grabbing interventions. But they represent a form of tactical subversion—what de Certeau (1984) might call “making do” within structures not of our choosing.

Despite structural constraints, educational technologists can act as catalysts for change. The key is to recognise where influence exists—and how it might be exercised with care and imagination.

Translation is one tactic. Critical pedagogy, framed in institutional language, can sometimes be smuggled in under the banner of “student engagement” or “digital capability”. This is not about dilution, but strategic reframing.

Infiltration is another. Small design decisions—using reflective prompts instead of quizzes, advocating for co-created assessment, embedding open educational resources—can subtly shift practice.

And coalition-building is essential. Critical work is isolating without allies. Forming networks with sympathetic academics, librarians, student reps, or other technologists creates both solidarity and momentum.

None of these tactics require permission. All require courage.

Let’s not romanticise resistance. Working critically within a system that does not reward critique is exhausting. It brings risks—of being marginalised, of being misunderstood, of becoming disillusioned (Nygaard, 2017).

Educational technologists are frequently caught in the crossfire between institutional demands and pedagogical values. We are asked to solve problems that are not technical, with tools that are not neutral, in contexts that are politically charged (Selwyn, 2011).

There are limits to what can be achieved through individual action. Structural change is necessary. But until that arrives, we must look after one another. Recognise the labour, share the load, and resist the temptation to carry everything alone.

Despite everything, I remain hopeful. I have seen educational technologists enable critical, creative, and inclusive practice—often against the grain of institutional incentives. These moments matter. They open up cracks in the system where alternative futures can begin to grow (hooks, 1994).

We need a politics of possibility in educational technology—one that acknowledges the constraints but refuses to be defined by them. This means refusing the drift toward depoliticised TEL, and reclaiming our roles as pedagogical actors.

Small acts, done collectively, can shift cultures.

Educational technologists are more than system administrators. We are witnesses to practice, translators of values, and sometimes—quietly—resisters of the status quo. Our work is neither neutral nor purely technical. It is political, relational, and situated.

If you find yourself navigating these tensions, I would welcome your reflections. How do you sustain critical work in constrained spaces? What strategies have helped you resist the drift? Let’s open the conversation.

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• 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
• Clegg, S., 2008. Academic identities under threat? British Educational Research Journal, 34(3), pp.329–345. https://doi.org/10.1080/01411920701532269
• de Certeau, M., 1984. The Practice of Everyday Life. Berkeley: University of California Press.
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• hooks, b., 1994. Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom. New York: Routledge.
• Nygaard, L.P., 2017. Publishing and perishing: an academic literacies framework for investigating research productivity. Studies in Higher Education, 42(3), pp.519–532. https://doi.org/10.1080/03075079.2015.1058351
• Selwyn, N., 2011. Education and Technology: Key Issues and Debates. London: Bloomsbury Academic.
• Selwyn, N., 2016. Is Technology Good for Education? Cambridge: Polity Press.
• Stommel, J., 2014. Critical digital pedagogy: a definition. Hybrid Pedagogy. Available at: https://hybridpedagogy.org/critical-digital-pedagogy-definition/