But! The second thing to consider here is the disruptive nature of these software tools. A student who wants to make films needs instruction, yes: “this is a cut, this is a pan, this is a fade-in,” and so on. Another student needs instruction in blogging, in podcasting, and digital storytelling. A third needs access to the Net to learn calculus, because her school doesn’t provide that kind of coursework.

But those students, and their teachers, don’t need a building in which that work is to be done. In fact, for digital storytelling, having access to a range of localities is important. A podcaster may wish to interview downtown merchants, and botanists at the botanical garden, and scientists at a local biotech company. And the calculus student can work through online lessons from home, occasionally calling in to her accountant-coach.

Not only do they not need a building (maybe a smaller building, or a storefront will do), they don’t need an administrative staff. A server, happily humming away in the closet of an interested parent, can serve to provide e-mail, wiki, blogging, podcast-serving, and database service to the students, their learning coaches, the tutors, and the parents. Outside agencies — the town parks league, the basketball club, the independent martial arts academy, the yoga studio — can provide coordinated instruction in physical activities. Companies can provide apprenticeships in technology, business management, and all manner of other tools.

Over the next twenty years, a lot of schools are going to close as the technology reaches into their neighborhoods that replaces that kind of infrastructure. The teachers that are prepared to survive, and thrive, in a technology-leveraged world, are going to succeed.