And take up a pen.
The evidence indicates that taking notes by hand leads to more learning. The article lists reasons why this may be so:
The experiment found that the students who used a laptop did not understand the lecture as well as those who wrote their notes out by hand. The researchers hypothesized that this was because students who wrote notes by hand had to process what the lecturer was saying and, in effect, summarize what was being said to keep up with the lecture. Additionally, they found that laptop note takers had a “tendency to transcribe lectures verbatim,” which mean they were less likely to process information into their own words…
Writing things by hand is becoming less common as gadgets and speech recognition software continue to replace pen and paper, but it’s long proven that handwriting improves motor skills, memory, and creativity.
In the article there’s a link on the word “improves” in that last sentence of the quote that goes to this 2014 piece from the NY Times:
“When we write, a unique neural circuit is automatically activated,” said Stanislas Dehaene, a psychologist at the Collé¨ge de France in Paris. “There is a core recognition of the gesture in the written word, a sort of recognition by mental simulation in your brain.”…
The effect goes well beyond letter recognition. In a study that followed children in grades two through five, Virginia Berninger, a psychologist at the University of Washington, demonstrated that printing, cursive writing, and typing on a keyboard are all associated with distinct and separate brain patterns ”” and each results in a distinct end product. When the children composed text by hand, they not only consistently produced more words more quickly than they did on a keyboard, but expressed more ideas. And brain imaging in the oldest subjects suggested that the connection between writing and idea generation went even further. When these children were asked to come up with ideas for a composition, the ones with better handwriting exhibited greater neural activation in areas associated with working memory ”” and increased overall activation in the reading and writing networks.
Anyone who has composed on a computer vs. by hand probably has already perceived that difference, up close and personally. I certainly have, and I wrote a post about it that appeared on this blog in 2008. Here’s an excerpt:
Before the word processor and then the computer, I used to compose all my papers in longhand and correct them the same way, with many crossouts and additions. Once I was satisfied (or a few hours before the paper was due, whichever came first) I’d type it on my Smith-Corona, using whiteout or erasable typing paper to correct the inevitable typos. It felt like a laborious process, and it often was; I’m not the greatest typist, and Spellcheck was hardly a gleam in anyone’s eye.
So when the instantly correctable word processor and then the computer became readily available, it seemed almost miraculous. How wonderful to watch the lines jump into place when a word was removed, magically and seamlessly closing the gap.
But I noticed that my writing was changing in some subtle fashion. It was difficult to be as imaginative as before; the thoughts seemed more stilted, although the words themselves flowed onto the page far more efficiently.
But I found to my dismay that I simply could not write poetry that way, although I could edit my poems. I had to write poetry longhand. Not that much of a hardship, really, since poems tend to be relatively short.
It seemed that there was an actual physical difference in the way the hand accessed the brain and the creative juices depending on whether that hand was writing or typing. Why this should be so I do not know, but it has persisted. To this day, I write poetry only by hand, although humorous verse (like my song parodies on this blog) can easily be accomplished on the computer.
I originally felt quite strongly that my writing in general suffered when I used a computer. I’m not so sure that’s true anymore, but perhaps it is. I wouldn’t know, because I so seldom compose things by hand these days (except poetry, which I don’t compose all that often, but when I do it’s almost always by hand). Perhaps I’ve traded creativity for convenience. Or perhaps my brain has gotten much more used to working this way.
I’m really happy that these days I’m not often in a lecture taking notes. I used to detest that form of learning, which I described in this 2006 post:
Even though I was always a good student, I rarely enjoyed classes. In retrospect, I think one big reason was the “sit in your seat and listen while we talk””and talk””and talk” format. In college, I was one of those people who sat at the very back of the room during lectures, swinging my leg restlessly, doodling and smoking.
Ah yes, kids: smoking. We used to be allowed to do that in classrooms. I was never much of a smoker””I really didn’t inhale””but I liked to light up, and to amuse myself by making perfect, long-lasting smoke rings, like the old Camel’s ad in Times Square (mine were much better than his).
The point of all this is that I’m most definitely not what is known as an auditory learner. A speaker has to be riveting””and, preferably, very, very funny””to catch my attention. I’ve been to several authors’ book and/or poetry readings, and despite my best intentions and resolve (and love of books and poetry), I find that I ordinarily drift off within five minutes or less of the moment the author opens his/her mouth, “coming to”””unaware of any lapse in time””only when the applause starts that signifies the reading has ended.
When I was in college, if I’d had a laptop instead, my guess is that I’d be tempted to surf the web instead of taking notes. I always preferred the text to the lecture—I could cover the material so much faster that way. Every now and then there was a riveting lecturer in college, but alas, they were few and far between.
