When we first heard: “I’m afraid to click”

November 2024

“I don’t dare.”

The sentence was spoken quietly. Almost apologetically. The participant was sitting in front of the computer; the exam registration form was open on the screen. Everything had been filled out. The cursor hovered over the Submit button.

“What could happen?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll mess something up.”

We’ve heard this sentence countless times at UPI Žalec.

It’s not that people don’t know how to use a computer. It’s the fear of the consequences. Of the invisible mechanisms they don’t understand.

There was a time when you knew what you’d done wrong

When you typed the wrong number into a calculator, you could see it. When you filled out a paper form incorrectly, you could cross it out. When you accidentally erased a sentence in your notebook, you could write it again.

The mistake was visible and fixable.

But the digital world works differently. Sometimes it seems like a single click can trigger an unknown process. That something is irreversible. That the computer will “freeze,” the system will delete data, or that you’ll send something somewhere that you can’t take back.

This feeling isn’t irrational. It stems from a lack of familiarity with the system.

And this is where DigComp Competence 5.1 comes in—troubleshooting technical problems. Not as the ability to fix a computer. But as the ability to cope with uncertainty.

The fear of clicking is the fear of the unknown

At the DigCompAE workshop, we discussed among colleagues what technical confidence means. We concluded that it is not related to knowing all the functions. It is related to the feeling that we can correct a mistake.

That is the key difference.

The participant who said, “I’m afraid to click,” had already completed 90% of the task. She had filled out the form. She understood the instructions. Technically, she was capable.

One thing was missing: confidence.

When we looked together at what happens after the click, we explained that a confirmation message appears. That it’s possible to cancel the registration later. That the system doesn’t penalize mistakes, but allows them to be corrected.

She clicked.

Nothing dramatic happened. Just a small notification: Your registration has been successfully submitted.

She smiled. “Oh. That’s all.”

A technical problem or a mental block?

Often, a technical problem isn’t technical at all. It’s psychological.

When someone says, “The computer doesn’t like me” or “Something always goes wrong for me,” it’s rarely an objective malfunction. It’s a series of past experiences where they didn’t understand what happened.

And when we don’t understand a process, we start to perceive it as dangerous.

At UPI Žalec, we’ve noticed this particularly among adults returning to formal education after a long hiatus. The decision to enroll alone requires courage. When digital uncertainty is added to the mix, the pressure is twofold.

That’s why solving technical problems isn’t just a technical skill. It’s part of empowerment.

From Fear to Exploration

Once, during a class, we deliberately caused an “error.” We closed a document without saving it and then showed how the system offers to recover it. The participants were surprised. Some even felt relieved.

“So all is not lost,” said one of them.

No, it isn’t.

Today’s digital systems are built to anticipate errors. They have safeguards, confirmations, and warnings. The problem is that the user doesn’t know this until someone shows them.

And once they see that the error is fixable, their attitude changes.

A click is no longer a threat. It becomes an exploration.

Our Responsibility as an Organization

The DigCompAE project has encouraged us to take a look at ourselves as well. Do we give participants enough room to make mistakes safely? Do we step in too quickly and click for them?

Sometimes the hardest thing is to sit back and let someone click on their own.

But that very moment is crucial.

Digital competence isn’t developed by watching. It’s developed through experience.

When a click is no longer the end, but the beginning

After submitting her application, that participant said, “Next time, I’ll click on my own.” It wasn’t a big deal. There was no applause. There was no dramatic turnaround. It was a small shift in thinking.

From “I don’t dare” to “I’ll give it a try.”

And perhaps that is the essence of digital competence. Not in perfection. Not in flawlessness. But in the willingness to take a step forward despite uncertainty.

At UPI Žalec, we learn to click. Not because we love the buttons on the screen. But because every click represents a decision not to back down.

And in the digital world, that’s more than a technical skill. It’s an attitude.