A student reflects on a professor’s strict no-device policy, and argues that higher education should empower young adults to choose their own learning paths
Illustration by Sage Blackwell.
On the first day of my creative non-fiction workshop, my professor announced a strict no-device policy. Laptops away, notebooks out.
Though the rule works in this particular course — small, conversational, and collaborative — I still hesitated. I couldn’t shake the thought: if I’m paying thousands of dollars to be here, shouldn’t I get to decide how I learn best?
Feeling frustrated and curious, I decided to interview her to learn more. She explained her policy, which has been in place for a decade, is about protecting the focus of her workshop, not about control. She said that devices have a “secondhand smoke” effect; when one student uses a device, it distracts others and attention drifts across the room.
I don’t dismiss this reasoning. The research supports it. Countless studies show that students retain more when they handwrite notes, and that off-task device use in class tanks performance. These facts matter.
But here’s where I diverge: universities are not high schools. Yes, some, if not most, students will use their laptops during class to shop online, scroll through social media, or play games. That’s not ideal, but managing one’s reaction to distractions outside of their control is still the responsibility of the student. We are, after all, adults who have paid thousands of dollars to study here. If some students choose to waste their time and money, that’s on them. University isn’t about protecting us from bad decisions. It’s about giving us the freedom to learn how to make good ones.
Another key argument in favour of device usage is that students don’t all learn the same. I type notes in class because I can’t keep up with the pace of the lecture otherwise. Later, I rewrite them by hand — that’s when the material sticks. Take away my laptop and I lose half of my system.
Further, the research shows that it’s not laptops themselves that harm learning outcomes, but how they’re used. On-task use — note-taking, following slides, looking at relevant material — correlates with positive outcomes. Off-task use correlates with negative outcomes. The difference isn’t the device, it’s self-regulation.
Furthermore, for some students with mobility or learning impairments, using a device in class might not be just convenient, but necessary. While professors are required to make accommodations for these students, banning devices in classrooms can end up ostracizing those students, or bringing their disability to others’ attention.
Technology isn’t going anywhere. The workforce runs on it, and so does the world. Banning it in university classrooms doesn’t prepare us for that reality, while learning how to use it responsibly does. Handwriting is a valuable skill, but students can practice it without banning devices.
Device bans may protect some, but they also penalize students who are disciplined and whose learning style depends on technology. UVic doesn’t have a policy around personal devices in the classroom; ultimately, classroom policies are up to each instructor. While most professors design their courses with students’ best interests and learning outcomes in mind, that shouldn’t mean imposing one-size-fits-all learning methods.
As adults paying for our education, we have the right, and the responsibility, to decide how we learn best. Professors can guide us, but ultimately the choice should belong to the student.For me, and for many others, that includes my laptop.
