The analog teaching and learning trend, disability, and access friction

Thinking about how recent interest in lower-tech teaching and learning can engage with accessibility

I have been pondering a growing trend in writing and conversation about teaching in our current technology- and AI-saturated world: The idea that we should return or recommit to more slow, deliberate, and analog teaching and learning. Analog in this case mostly means “without the use of electronic devices” and in the case of writing, sometimes with the goal of avoiding the influence of AI. Some of the rationale for these ideas is that if we ask students to read from a physical book, write sentences or take notes by hand, and otherwise remove the temptation to use electronic shortcuts or AI, then they can focus on the development of their own skills and perspectives with less interference. Another rationale is that electronic devices, even when they may aid learning, have become so distracting that we might benefit from a complete “tech fast” or space of respite from technology.

My own reaction to this trend is twofold. First, as someone who prioritizes accessibility and thinks a lot about how students with disabilities experience the learning environment, I do have skepticism towards “back to analog” ideas when they tend toward bans on certain devices or even requirements to handwrite. Of course, not all of them do - this is a broad category of thought. Personally, I am not going to ban devices that I know some students need for accessibility. Even with exceptions for students with disabilities, I am not comfortable with the way students who do use a device would have to disclose their disability status by default. However, I can’t say there isn’t a part of me that is compelled by the idea of radically reconsidering how devices are affecting our learning, especially the idea of opening space for students to choose to go without them. I have personally undertaken weekly rests from technology as part of Jewish sabbath observance for the majority of my life, which might be informing some of my curiosity about this topic.

But I still know that there are too many diverse needs in any given classroom to suggest that analog learning is a good fit for all students or instructors, especially those with disabilities. Electronic devices and digital information more or less provide the foundation of accessibility in education today, from assistive and adaptive technologies like screen-readers, to customizable text, to portable and easier to hold reading devices, and even AAC devices for people who do not communicate using speech (or do so less reliably). It can feel a little odd to encounter arguments against technology in the classroom that don’t engage this point at all.

What I recently realized is that there are also some accessibility benefits to analog tools and methods, which are less frequently mentioned. For example, there are several disabilities and health conditions that may require abstention from looking at an electronic screen. People with migraine or traumatic brain injury (TBI) may have their symptoms triggered or exacerbated as a result of prolonged screen use. Physical books, print outs, and options to handwrite could significantly support such students’ participation. Thus, it may sometimes be the case that insistence on using a physical book or pen and paper results in an access barrier or a forced disclosure of disability, but that the availability of and general positive attitude toward analog tools is very helpful for students who have difficulty looking at screens. More generally, I’m starting to feel like there are some interesting and exciting opportunities in these moves towards lower-tech, more analog learning (or components of them). But, I think these conversations could benefit from a robust rather than cursory engagement with accessibility and with the friction that results from a diversity of needs related to technology.

Access friction, or conflicts of access needs, has been a main topic of this blog space almost since its inception. As I have explored this topic over a few years, I have come to realize that while access friction can narrowly describe a situation in which two sets of disability-related needs collide, it also has a more general form. Access friction can be a useful framework for thinking about situations in which a decision made with the goal of supporting, including, or engaging a majority of students has downsides for a smaller subgroup of students. In this way, it seems to me that the analog trend, as well as the larger and very contentious “devices in class” debate, is probably one that could benefit from an access friction analysis. I don’t think I need to re-tread all the ground of the “devices in class” debate but I would summarize the two most salient points for our discussion here as:

1. Some students need devices to enable their participation, and device bans either create a barrier or result in forced disclosure of disability.

2. Devices can genuinely interfere with some students’ concentration and participation because they are distracting, both in terms of individual use and when a peer uses a device. Sometimes the sound or display of the device itself is distracting, but also a peer may use a device for off-task purposes and those activities visually distract other students (e.g. scrolling social media). There might even be disability-related reasons that this type of distraction is a particular challenge for some learners.

Any approach that attempts to maximize benefits for either students who need devices or those whose experience is harmed by them creates trouble for the other group: a form of access friction.

My working hypothesis on the broader category of access friction has been that it is not a brand new idea for teachers. Rather, it is a phenomenon that many instructors and writers have experienced or contemplated without having a name for it, perhaps referring to instances of access friction as “tricky teaching dilemmas” or “complex problems.” For example, in his book Distracted: Why Student’s Can’t Focus and What You Can Do About It Jim Lang introduces his recommendations on developing a classroom device policy this way:

“What follows in this chapter will come as good news if you see legitimate arguments on both sides of the tech ban debate, and bad news if you came here hoping for a one-size-fits-all solution to this complex problem. [...] We can ban laptops, and that produces some benefits for attention while making life more difficult for students who would be helped by a laptop. We can adopt a laissez-faire policy of allowing all devices in the classroom at any time, and that treats students like adults while potentially harming well-intentioned students who might be distracted by the off-task work of their peers. We can also adopt solutions that fall between or outside of these two alternatives. All of these positions have costs and benefits, which we will review.” (p. 63-64)

That there are usually costs and benefits to any classroom decision is a fact at the core of my access friction concept, and I think this passage provides a great example of how many of our thorniest issues require sensitively balancing a number of competing concerns, as with access friction. I often say that I believe consensus and compromise are two important approaches to navigating access friction, as they actually confront the collision of needs rather than shunting one set off to the side. While re-reading Distracted the other day I found it interesting that after discarding both “device bans” and the “laissez-faire” approach, Lang offers two other tech policy models that correspond more or less to consensus and compromise: One is developing a policy on device use in the classroom in collaboration with students (consensus) and the other is creating a policy which strategically allows and discourages device use in different contexts (compromise). Even these policies have their benefits and drawbacks, but they at least attempt to address friction in a way that “device bans” and “laissez-faire” do not.

This is all to say that as I develop access friction further as a concept, I hope to convince people that even if you are still developing your knowledge of disability or you feel like the complexity of access needs in our classrooms is evolving too quickly to keep up with, you may have more knowledge to draw on than you might think. If you have ever navigated a thorny teaching and learning issue (like classroom device policies), that experience could be relevant and useful for navigating access friction, and we will probably be able to look to some of our other rich discussions in pedagogy for ideas about how to move through the complex access issues that are currently emerging in higher ed.

Getting back to the analog trend, I initially thought I’d rather stay out of the “back to analog” teaching dialogue, because of my feelings that it too closely mimics the “device ban” conversations of the past. But, as part of my efforts to embrace access friction and complexity, I’d like to cautiously open the door to some conversation on “more analog” teaching and learning that actively engages accessibility and disability, and see what is possible. Though others may disagree, I do think that device use should ultimately remain an option without the need for an accommodation, even while we actively discuss and in some cases encourage using more analog methods. That said, here are some of the questions on my mind, as someone who is intrigued by some of the “analog” or “slower” ideas and also wants to seriously consider disability, accessibility, and access friction.

• How do we help students determine for themselves whether their learning is going to be most supported by using or putting away their devices, and at what particular moments? How can we support students who have some accessibility needs requiring devices but who might also benefit from strategic abstention from devices in some contexts?

• If we seriously believe there is a benefit of having time away from devices, how can we include students with disabilities in some of our analog experiments? We can always think about accessibility early and often, even when we are in a slower more analog frame of mind.

• How do we help students recognize and proactively support their fellow students’ right to concentrate while simultaneously recognizing we all take some amount of responsibility for our own concentration? E.g. Is putting privacy film on your computer screen feasible (for those using devices)? Is choosing a seat without a direct view of other screens feasible (for those distracted by screens)?

• Can we help students feel confident in some of their own analog or tech-enabled decisions even when they are likely to be learning alongside students who are making different decisions, because of an access need or personal preference?

• How do we discuss situations which may not be ideal for concentration for some students but which are access issues for others? We don’t want to move towards a situation in which assistive devices or laptops are viewed as a de facto negative part of the classroom by students who prefer not to use them.

• What are some realistic ways to engage an already diverse group which now has an added layer of complexity: some students may be consciously abstaining from technology while others are using it to support their own learning. Activities I have relied on in the past that ask students to answer questions using a computer or phone may not work as well. I’ve been thinking about this a lot for my own workshops with faculty, which have historically involved a lot of phone-enabled participation options.

I’m hoping to expand on some of these questions in future posts and other writing - feel free to comment or contact me if you have thoughts you would like to share!

News and events

• My big piece of news is that my book, Classroom Mindscapes: An Introduction to Neurodiversity for Educators is now available for pre-order from the University of Oklahoma Press. I hope that you will consider buying it and or asking your librarian to order a copy!

• As far as events go, I’ll be sticking close to home in New England over the next few months.

  • I’ll be speaking at the Nader Alexander Salem ‘16 Forum at Bryant University, where I’ll be talking about communication in neurodiverse groups.

  • I’ll be speaking at the UMass Amherst CTL on April 15 on the topic of access friction.

• I am looking at planning my calendar for Fall 2026 and Spring 2027, so if you are interested in working with my on projects of events related to faculty development, accessibility, and neurodiversity, please feel free to check out some of what I offer on my website and contact me.