I’m a fairly typical, multitasking, always-connected member of generation Y (or a late gen-Xer, depending on who sets the cutoff date). My laptop and I are rarely apart, and I quickly run out of things to occupy my time when I’m deprived of high-speed internet access. (My parents finally upgraded from dial-up just before the holidays and, as a result, I finally agreed to stay with them for more than 48 hours.)

In short, I get bored easily, which is why I’d always suspected that Las Vegas might be my ideal vacation destination. After all, Vegas is designed for people who can’t focus. Buffets are abundant—ideal for those who can’t even commit to a particular entrée for an evening. Cirque du Soleil shows are multiplying like rabbits—perfect for anyone who loves live theatre but hates paying attention to one performer for more than fifteen seconds. Nearly every casino offers a superficial imitation of some ancient city or wonder of the world—fantastic for the tourist who can’t imagine spending an entire week in just France or Italy or Egypt. You could also go through the detailed analysis of US poker and understand what you can do when you want to gamble online.

I just returned from my first Vegas trip, and unfortunately, it seems all of the city’s catering to multitaskers comes at a high price. At first, I was drawn in by the bells and whistles. A slot machine featuring stars from the hit ‘70s game show Password? Amazing! Where do I insert my money? A shopping mall with a maze of canals and happy couples riding in gondolas while being serenaded by a man dressed like the Hamburgler? Incredible! I’ll take two tickets, please.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before the bells and whistles lost some of their appeal. “Doesn’t that gondolier know any songs other than ‘Mambo Italiano’?” I wondered. “And why does the attendant in the Parisian pastry shop sound like Marisa Tomei?” I could squint my eyes and pretend the stamped concrete was real cobblestone and the faux-finished walls were made of real plaster. Yet, eventually, I had to accept that underneath it all, Vegas was largely composed of some very mundane raw materials—primarily concrete and overweight chain-smokers.

The same holds true for online courses. We can try desperately to hold our students’ attention with flashy games and constant variety.  We can reel them in with the promise that we won’t make them work too hard or stare at any one thing too long. But sometimes what’s fun or easy isn’t what’s best. A bad discussion prompt is not better just because it takes place online. A boring lecture is not more interesting just because you’re watching it on an ipod. And a hamburger with half a press-on nail wedged under the bun is not better just because it was served by a young woman from Des Moines dressed like Cleopatra.

I like to joke with participants in our faculty-development workshops that there is one key to being an amazing online instructor: just be riveting. Of course, that’s easier said than done. But we all have ways of presenting material that can keep students hanging on our every word. By choosing what to present and how to present it, you can make your lectures and assignments funny, relevant, scary, provocative, or inspiring. And you don’t need technology bells and whistles to do this. Professors have been creating riveting lessons long before the advent of the first educational technology—paper. (And just imagine all the awful things teachers have forced students to read and write simply because it was finally possible to do so without a hammer and chisel!) That’s not to say educational technology is useless. It’s just important that we don’t let it be a driving force when designing a course.

A colleague recently sent me information about the PBS program titled Digital Nation: Life on the Virtual Frontier. Portions of the show featured several educational technology scholars discussing the importance of engaging today’s multitasking, millennial learners. There were the usual cliché shots of students texting and updating Facebook while their dinosaur of a professor drones on from the stage below. The scholars talked about the need to keep students engaged the same way their favorite computer games do, with one scholar promoting an entire school curriculum built around game-based learning. While I salute educators for their openness to new teaching methods, I think it’s critical that we not lose sight of what truly makes for an engaging course and what great teachers have been doing right for hundreds of years. In the end, there’s no need for flashing lights and faux finishes if you already have the real Eiffel Tower and great pastries.