For at least as long as The Paper Chase has been an element of our popular imagination, it seems there have been two dominant features of the first year law school curriculum: the case book and the Socratic method. Does this signature pedagogical approach really teach first years to “think like a lawyer?” Or is it an ineffective and antiquated form of teaching? Might it even be, as critics suggest, an “infantilizing […] tactic for promoting hostility and competition among students”that is “self-serving, and destructive of positive ideological values?”
Little did I realize the first semester of contracts, criminal law, and torts was at once the debut of the methodology as well as its pedagogical zenith. As soon as I had adjusted to the pace of question-and-answer based on hypothetical or case, by second semester, it seemed to diminish in discursive quality. Partly to blame are the students—exhausted by overwhelming readings and assignments, falling behind in the library, and distracted by Facebook and the daily news while in class. There are also the “gunners”who dominate the question-and-answer, evidently prepared, drowning out the rest, and certain to elicit schadenfreude among their peers when they inevitably blunder. Everyone knows the quiet ones do the best on exams anyway.
Equally, the professors are to blame. Some have the charisma needed to capture and sustain a class’sattention and stimulate discussion, however ill-prepared or overworked its participants. Others retreat to a lecture-style dictation of slides or prepared remarks with no such bravado. Yet the popular discourse tends to eclipse the contribution of the teacher, foisting blame on the hazards of new technology for a lackluster classroom experience.
Professors across the country are banning laptops in the classroom because of the supposed pedagogical benefits. But is the pen indeed mightier than the keyboard? Apparently so, according to a 2014 study in the journal of Psychological Science. It finds the transcription of verbatim notes while typing entails a failure to process information, leading to poor retention. In recent weeks, The Globe and Mail and CBC Radio’s Anna Maria Tremonti gave life to the debate, and the thrust of this research, in a series of interviews with teachers and expert commentators. The jury is out, according to the liberal outlets, as far as many educators are concerned. But the narrative is awfully one-sided.
Two Osgoode policies stand out in this context. First are the blanket policies banning technology—laptops and mobile phones—from lectures. Second is the reticence of many instructors to release recordings to the class-at-large, preferring to provision access only to students with accommodations. When confronted with questions over the preference, many professors cite “pedagogical reasons”or being “old school.”Does this thinly reasoned justification hold up to scientific scrutiny? Is it in the students’interests, or does it amount to the paternalistic infantilization of free-thinking, self-governing adults?
A 2011 study from the University of Michigan suggested a nuanced result after a series of surveys. It reported a mixed result in grade performance when students use laptops in the classroom. On the positive side, it found that students who were engaged with questions and interactive material on their laptops performed slightly better than average in assessments. However, on the negative side, it reported that the laptops could serve as a distraction to other students. The study notes that the better performing users were enrolled in courses and faculties that significantly integrated technology into the learning environment. The authors also encourage professors to designate a laptop free zone to limit distraction, while exploring means of further engaging their students to keep pace with technological development.
More recent experiment-based study reached other conclusions. A 2012 study in the Journal of Computers & Education consisted of two experiments. In both, a group of test subjects were presented with material in a lecture format, and then asked to write a multiple-choice quiz to assess retention. In the first experiment, all test subjects were given a computer, and half were forced to multi-task while transcribing notes. Predictably, those multi-tasking scored over 10% lower on the test. In the second experiment, half of the subjects were given computers and others were forced to handwrite. On the multiple-choice test, the results indicated students surrounded by laptops performed 17% lower, highlighting the impact of distractions on the in-class environment.
A surprisingly nuanced picture emerges from the findings surveyed here. Students and teachers can take for granted that technology is a distraction for students using shorthand. Yet used effectively, computers have been shown to increase performance. The question is whether the kind of learning environment needed to effectively teach law is conducive to this sort of digital engagement. Also, is there one policy choice or another more conducive the diversity of student learning styles in relation to their medium of information consumption?
Policy changes that impact the student experience should be subject to discussion rather than justification by one authority. Particularly when there is nuanced evidence on effectiveness, and many variables at play, students should have say over their preferred technologies. While many of our professors have difficulty consistently recording their lectures, or limit availability to students with accommodations, leading universities around the world are adopting new forms of digital engagement to enhance the in-and-out of classroom experience. Indeed, sometimes the pen is mightier than the keyboard. But not the microphone.