Laptop ban? Not a good idea for all students
The laptop ban at some degree programmes sounds like a good idea, but it sounds quite rigid, argues Halil Çelik. “Exceptional circumstances also deserve consideration. Think of a student who needs to remain reachable for a loved one because they are a caregiver.”
The laptop closed, the notebook open, attention restored. It is an appealing image: students listening instead of scrolling and looking at each other instead of their screens. But a quieter lecture hall is not automatically a better lecture hall.
At the University of Amsterdam’s bachelor’s programme in Interdisciplinary Social Science, laptops, phones and tablets are banned during lectures. The programme wants to improve concentration in this way. I understand the reasoning. Less distraction, more attention and more interaction are valuable goals. I therefore think it is an interesting experiment, but not necessarily an improvement. I am not opposed to laptop-free education, but I am opposed to a laptop ban as a standard solution. A university may encourage students to work without screens, but it should have good reasons for making that choice on their behalf.
Experiment
Research does provide reasons to take pen and paper seriously. A 2024 meta-analysis (Flanigan et al.) of 24 studies involving students found a small average advantage for handwritten notes. At the same time, students who typed were found to record considerably more information. Other meta-analyses have also not reached exactly the same conclusion. The scientific evidence therefore gives us reason to experiment with laptop-free education, but it does not provide simple proof that a general laptop ban leads to better education.
But an average advantage is not a prescription for every student. And research comparing two methods of taking notes is not the same as research into the consequences of an institution-wide device ban. The step from “paper may work better for some learning objectives” to “therefore we should ban laptops for everyone” is a policy choice, not a conclusion that follows directly from this research (Flanigan et al., 2024).
The strongest argument against complete freedom of choice is that distraction does not necessarily stop with the person who owns the screen. Educational psychologist Paul Kirschner points out in a NOS article that students sitting next to someone using a screen can also become distracted. We cannot dismiss that concern by saying, “students are adults.” My freedom to use a laptop is not a licence to disrupt someone else’s education.
Accessibility
That is why I am not arguing for unrestricted screen use. During a discussion, a lecturer should be able to ask students to close their laptops, while allowing those who need digital support to continue using them. But targeted agreements are something different from a general ban. Folia also describes how mathematics lecturer Jan Brandts likes to use the blackboard, while laptops and phones are allowed in his classes. An analogue teaching method evidently does not automatically require analogue students.
There is another question I believe is missing: who actually had a say in this measure? The UvA itself says that students should be able to feel jointly responsible for the content of their education. Programme committees bring students and lecturers together to consider the quality and organisation of education. That makes it relevant to know whether students were also involved in this experiment. If a programme fundamentally changes the way students are allowed to learn during lectures, such a measure should not only be developed for students, but as much as possible with students.
For me, every restriction begins with one hard condition: accessibility must be arranged in advance. Anyone who needs digital support because of, for example, ADHD or a physical disability in order to follow a lecture properly should be able to continue using it. Not only after endless emails or having to explain again and again why an exception is necessary. A clear exemption policy should provide certainty, not create another obstacle course.
Confidentially
Moreover, the focus should be on what someone needs, not on which diagnosis a lecturer believes corresponds to which tool. A student should not have to explain personal circumstances in the middle of a lecture hall just to be allowed to open a laptop. Such arrangements should be handled confidentially and should apply with every lecturer involved.
Exceptional circumstances also deserve consideration. Think of a student who needs to remain reachable for a loved one because they are a caregiver. That is not a disability, but it can still be a reason for making different arrangements. Someone waiting for an important message is doing something very different from someone shopping online. A policy that treats both situations as the same misses precisely the distinction that good education should be able to make.
And what are we actually asking of students who have been working digitally since secondary school, or sometimes even earlier? Imagine a student who links notes directly to course material, organises them digitally and searches through them later. For that student, it is not only the object on the desk that changes, but also the way they study at home. Learning a different approach does not have to be a bad thing. But if we expect students to make that transition, we should also provide guidance: practise summarising, make suitable materials available and give students room to discover what works for them.
More contact
Perhaps laptop-free education offers something else above all: more contact. In Folia, history lecturer Bram Mellink says that students responded positively overall and appreciated the other conversations. That is a serious benefit. If students talk to each other more often and consequently feel less alone, I would consider that important. After all, a university is more than a place where we collect material for exams.
But social connectedness, concentration and learning are not the same thing. They can reinforce one another without one automatically proving the other. The positive experiences described in the article do not yet show whether students understand and retain the material better in the long term, or which students may struggle to participate. That does not make those experiences unimportant. It makes our conclusion provisional.
Treat the policy as an experiment that can also be adjusted. Agree in advance on what improvement means. Do not measure only satisfaction and calm, but also learning outcomes, accessibility and the additional burden of adapting to a different way of working. Involve students in the evaluation and examine separately how the measure may affect different groups. A favourable average should not conceal the fact that some students may gain less access to education as a result.
So let lecturers experiment with paper, chalk and screen-free conversations. Let students experience what these approaches can offer. But make freedom of choice the starting point, substantiate any restrictions and guarantee necessary exemptions. The goal is not for everyone to do the same thing. The goal is for everyone to be able to participate.
Halil Çelik studies Interdisciplinary Social Science at the UvA.
A closed laptop is easy to count. Good education requires us to look more carefully.
