There is a growing drumbeat for banning laptops in the classroom, as a recent New Yorker article explained. The current case for banning laptops appeared on a Washington Post blog (among other places), in a piece written by Clay Shirky, who is a professor of media studies at New York University, and holds a joint appointment as an arts professor at NYU’s graduate Interactive Telecommunications Program in the Tisch School of the Arts, and as a Distinguished Writer in Residence in the journalism institute.

The piece makes a compelling case for banning laptops, and I agree there are a number of good reasons to do so.  I’ll not recount the whole piece here (I recommend reading it), but here’s a key passage:

Anyone distracted in class doesn’t just lose out on the content of the discussion but creates a sense of permission that opting out is OK, and, worse, a haze of second-hand distraction for their peers. In an environment like this, students need support for the better angels of their nature (or at least the more intellectual angels), and they need defenses against the powerful short-term incentives to put off complex, frustrating tasks. That support and those defenses don’t just happen, and they are not limited to the individual’s choices. They are provided by social structure, and that structure is disproportionately provided by the professor, especially during the first weeks of class.

I am sympathetic to this line of thinking, and I am even more sympathetic to another point made in the article: that the laptop distractions can leak from one student engaging in social media or other non-classroom activities to those around them. That is a serious concern. 

Still, I don’t ban laptops in my classes, though I have thought about it.  I let students use them in my larger-enrollment classes: Business Organizations, which usually is near the cap of 70, and Energy Law, which is usually in the 34-55 range. There is no doubt the risk of distraction in those courses is higher than in others.  Interestingly, in my last two seminar-style classes, I did not have a ban, either, but students rarely used laptops.  They opted-in for the discussions (self-selection for certain topics can certainly help on that front). 

I continue to think about how I want to proceed, but for now, I see value in allowing my students the option to choose how they wish to engage. There have been some other defenses of the idea of keeping laptops in the classroom (see, e.g.,  here), but my views are an amalgam of different styles and rationales.

First, part of learning, especially in becoming a life-long learner (which is what lawyers need to be), one must choose to engage. Law students are grown ups, and they must learn how they learn. They must decide.  I won’t be there when they get to their job and they have to use the computer to actually do the work of a lawyer.  They will, at some point, have to decide when to focus and when to play. 

Second, I value diversity of styles in the classroom.  That is, if most other professors are using open-book exams or take home exams, mine will probably be closed book, and closed note.  I have taught using quizzes, blog posts, midterms, short papers, etc., to add some variety to the experience.  Now that more classes, at least at my school, are without laptops, it actually gives me a reason to consider keeping them. 

Finally, at least so far, allowing laptops is part of my deal with students. It’s part of how I connect and model for them my view and expectation that they are grown ups.  I give them power, and I expect them to act appropriately.  As my friend, former colleague, and teaching mentor Patti Alleva (recognized as one of the nation’s best law teachers) explained in a recent National Law Journal piece, teaching is ultimately about respect and what she calls “intentionality.”  She explains:

The simple fact is that teaching does not always produce learning, even if thoughtfully done. Creating that causal link between the two can be a mystifying challenge, especially given the infinite number of unknowable factors and forces that may reduce a teacher’s effectiveness or a student’s willingness or ability to learn.

 . . . .

Teachers, as fiduciaries of their students’ educational experience, owe them compassionate deference, based on a benefit of the doubt, coupled with high but reasonable expectations for a meaningful learning collaboration.

. . . .

Ultimately, the best professors are themselves students who learn as much as they teach. And they seek, not to impose ideas on students, but to help equip them with the metacognitive tools to test those ideas and use them in service of problem-solving. Hopefully, students will develop their own senses of respect — for the legal profession, for themselves as aspiring lawyers and for the learning partnership we share. So, if years ago, in that tense seminar room, each of us left with respect for our disagreements and for the pedagogic processes that allowed us to critically and creatively examine, and grow from, those differences, then invaluable learning did take place that day with respect providing a bridge between teaching and learning when other things may have temporarily obscured the connection.

I hope that as teachers we can all appreciate that we, like our students, have different views on the best way to teach and to learn.  Just because we choose different paths, it doesn’t make any path wrong.  As long as the path is thoughtfully chosen, with a purpose and a goal, there’s a good chance it’s right for that teacher, in that moment, for that class.  And if it’s not, the key is not about dwelling on the mistake. It’s about learning, adjusting, and doing a better job next time, because the best teachers really are the ones who are trying to “learn as much as they teach.”