Post by Sarah Silverman, March 2026
Excerpts below. Full article available on Substack here.
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.
… 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:
- Some students need devices to enable their participation, and device bans either create a barrier or result in forced disclosure of disability.
- 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 compromiseare 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.
… 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!