Technology in the classroom

In comparison to university, my high school was a technological wasteland. Though we were allowed to take notes with laptops in grades 11 and 12, for the most part, school policy made it clear that technology like cell phones, tablets, and laptops were only allowed during out-of-class hours.
Interestingly enough, every math class I ever attended in high school was equipped with a SMARTBoard—an interactive whiteboard that developers, and the school board, thought would make learning more interesting—but they were never properly calibrated. More importantly, they simply refused to work.
My grade 12 calculus teacher spent the first 15 minutes of each class tapping the board’s five calibration zones, only for the SMARTBoard to misinterpret each tap a few centimetres to the left or right. He couldn’t remove the board, so he eventually decided to use the chalkboard on the leftmost wall of the class. It was more than a symbol of a stubborn mind refusing to adapt, it was a metaphor for the school’s internal policy on technology—it doesn’t work, so why bother?
When my computer science teacher declared that we could bring in our laptops to work on in-class assignments—instead of using the school’s disastrously slow network—it was like receiving salvation from the heavens above. My high school obviously didn’t have Wi-Fi; in order to get work done, we disconnected the ethernet cables from the school computers so we could connect to the Internet.
Suffice it to say, my first university lecture blew my mind. Ignoring the fact that my professor didn’t force note-taking, he didn’t bat an eye at the sea of MacBooks flooding the Rozanski auditorium. All of a sudden, in-class tech was no longer an avoided subject; it was silently encouraged. Suddenly, it was okay to bring a tablet to take notes. Even laptops were permitted, in spite of the fact that though most connected students didn’t actually pay attention to lecture.
However, students in my first-year classes still hid their cellphones to text. It’s not like my professors didn’t know we were texting, it’s just that hiding a cellphone during lecture seemed like the respectful thing to do. I’ll admit, by second-year, my classmates stopped bothering to hide their phones.
I’ll be honest and say that I’ve only ever used my laptop in classes that I couldn’t stand. Perhaps it’s indicative of my grades in certain classes, but for the professors whose lessons I’ve truly enjoyed, I’ve always made a point to use pen-and-paper. It’s not because I want my professors to like me—it’s because I know that I’m an easily distracted person; if I want to learn, if I want to pay attention, then I need to take notes using pen-and-paper.
Danielle Subject is a recent alumnus of the University of Guelph. She explained that, in her third year at Guelph, she stopped bringing her laptop to class entirely.
“I had a friend who only used the library computers when he was on campus, and I ended up following his lead,” said Subject. “It completely altered my experience in the classroom. I actually paid attention in class. When I brought my laptop, I spent so much time Googling and checking Facebook that I would leave class not being able to repeat a single word the professor said. From then on, I brought good, old-fashioned notebooks to class, and only used the library computers when I needed access on campus.”
It’s important to recognize that a compulsion to remain updated is not the only way that technology can obstruct learning. I used to bring my 3DS to school everyday; in first-year, I had a schedule of games to play during both of my boring classes. I’d start off with 15 to 20 minutes of Pokemon, I’d switch to Fire Emblem, and then I’d play Mega Man. I’d end each class with God of War—for variety’s sake—on my PSP.
I managed to avoid punishment not because my professors were ignorant, but because I actively planned ways to avoid learning. I sat in the back, surrounded by students who were on their computers—both paying attention and wasting time. In War Memorial Hall, I sat in the balcony so my professors couldn’t see me. In retrospect, had I put as much effort into studying as I did for playing video games, I might have done a lot better in those two classes.
I used video games as a crutch during lessons that I found incredibly dull. However, the use of technology in the classroom doesn’t necessarily need to be a hinderance. For the students who can control themselves, for the students who can resist the urge to avoid learning, and for the students who are able to actually pay attention in class without refreshing the Google homepage every 30 seconds to see what happens, technology is a powerful tool.
For students like Danielle Subject and I, who are incapable of paying attention to lectures when screen shines in our faces, there are steps that can be taken to ensure success.  To begin with, take notes with pen-and-paper, if you’re certain that you’ll get distracted by technology. The mere act of refusing to bring a laptop to class can be the difference between learning something new and learning nothing at all. Sit near the front of the class so you won’t be encouraged to check your phone. Perhaps most important of all: don’t bring a laptop, tablet, or phone to class if you know you’re going to get distracted.
As our culture shifts to accommodate an increased technological presence, there will come a day when high technology will be synonymous with learning. The advent of virtual reality technology, like the Oculus Rift and Google’s Project Cardboard will no doubt change the way students—and professors—learn in their classrooms. These technologies are still in development, however, and it will be at least five years before all students will have access to them.
In the meantime, students can influence success by making sure they do whatever is necessary to pay attention in class.