Law360 Canada (August 24, 2026, 12:57 PM EDT) --

Connie L. Braun

As generative artificial intelligence becomes more capable, law schools at some Canadian and American universities have announced bans on laptops, tablets and mobile phones in classrooms. Supporters say restrictions protect academic integrity and restore focused learning. Critics counter that blanket bans are difficult to enforce, disadvantage some students and avoid the challenge, that of teaching future lawyers to use AI responsibly.

The case for restricting devices

There are persuasive reasons to restrict devices. Laptops and phones give students easy access to messaging, social media and unrelated browsing, distracting both users and those around them. Research on divided attention in lectures suggests that multitasking reduces retention and can affect students seated within view of an open screen.

A row of raised laptop lids also changes the character of a seminar. Screens obstruct eye contact and conceal the hesitation and other subtle cues instructors use to gauge comprehension. In law school, where students must analyze cases, answer questions and develop arguments under pressure, removing digital distractions may encourage deeper engagement.

Handwritten notes may reinforce that effect. Because writing by hand is slower than typing, students must summarize and prioritize rather than transcribe, a process closer to the synthesis required by legal analysis. Device-free periods also cultivate the still in-demand skill of giving sustained attention to a difficult problem without the relief of a second screen.

Restrictions may also curb covert AI use. A student can ask an AI system to summarize a case, answer a professor’s question or generate an argument without doing the underlying intellectual work. Unlike a whispered answer or shared outline, this use leaves little visible trace. A phone under the desk or a chat window behind a case file can produce a fluent response in seconds, even if the student has not read the decision.

Overreliance on these tools can impede the development of close reading, independent reasoning and clear writing. Those skills develop through sitting with an ambiguous holding, constructing an argument that does not yet work and revising a sentence until it says precisely what the writer means. When a tool removes the difficulty, it may also remove the practice. The loss is easy to miss because the finished product can still look competent.

The classroom is also where mistakes are least costly. A student who reasons badly in a seminar may be corrected and a student who outsources their reasoning receives no meaningful feedback because none of their own thinking is visible. Given lawyers’ duties of competence, confidentiality and candour, law schools have legitimate reasons to ensure that students can perform core tasks without technological assistance. An answer read from a screen tells an instructor little about what the student understands, destroying the diagnostic value of classroom discussion.

Restrictions may also promote fairness. Students who use AI during in-class exercises may gain an advantage over classmates who follow the rules or lack access to comparable tools. Because the most capable models often require paid subscriptions, tolerating undisclosed AI use may reward students who can afford better technology.

Assessment may begin to measure technological access as much as preparation or ability. Uncertainty about who is using what also erodes trust, discouraging students who prepared honestly and pressuring others to adopt the same tactics. Reasonable restrictions can create a more consistent environment in which students answer from the same starting point and instructors can take their responses at face value.

The case against blanket bans

Blanket bans, however, have serious drawbacks. Digital devices are integral to legal education and practice. Students use them to access cases, statutes, course materials and legal databases, as well as to take structured notes during fast-moving discussions. Many courses assume access to online readings, subscription databases, problem sets and collaborative documents.

Lawyers now work primarily with electronic materials and increasingly encounter AI-assisted research, drafting and document review. Employers expect new lawyers to be fluent in these tools and, more importantly, to know when an AI-assisted draft can be trusted and when every line must be verified. That judgment develops through supervised practice, not abstinence. A classroom that excludes technology entirely may leave students unprepared for practice and suggests that digital competence is peripheral rather than central to good lawyering.

Device bans may create accessibility problems. Some students rely on laptops or tablets because of disabilities, language-processing needs, injuries or chronic pain. A student with a visual impairment may need a screen reader or enlarged text. A student with dyslexia may use text-to-speech software. Someone with a repetitive-strain injury or fracture may be unable to handwrite throughout a seminar. Requiring these students to request exceptions may expose confidential information or single them out. In a room of closed laptops, the lone open screen can disclose an accommodation the student never chose to reveal. Formal accommodation processes may also move too slowly for temporary injuries or newly diagnosed conditions, leaving students to fall behind or negotiate separately with each instructor.

Students without formal accommodations may also benefit from searchable notes, captioning, screen readers and adjustable text. Handwriting is neither equally effective nor physically possible for everyone. Treating it as the neutral default mistakes one group’s preference for a universal capacity. Students working in a second language may also need to look up a term during discussion rather than lose the argument’s thread. A rule that requires frequent exceptions shifts the burden of compliance onto those least able to bear it.

Enforcement creates further problems. Instead of teaching, professors may spend valuable class time monitoring screens, and few want to confront students mid-discussion. Determined students can turn to smartwatches or phones concealed below desks, so a ban may constrain the compliant more than the dishonest. Accommodations complicate enforcement further, and inconsistent practices among instructors can make a faculty-wide rule appear arbitrary.

Most importantly, prohibition does not teach students to evaluate AI-generated information, protect confidential data, detect fabricated authorities or disclose technological assistance. Students barred from using AI in class may simply use it unsupervised at home, where no instructor is present to demonstrate how to verify a citation or assess a confidentiality risk. Enforcement may move the conduct out of sight, but it does not build the judgment the profession requires.

A better approach would combine targeted restrictions with responsible-use education. Professors could designate particular classes or activities in a course as device-free, especially during oral advocacy, case discussions and individual assessments. Devices could remain available for research exercises and other activities in which technology serves a legitimate educational purpose.

Law schools should adopt clear, activity-specific AI policies explaining whether students may use it for editing, research, citation checking or drafting. Outright prohibition is not the way to proceed. Permitted use should be disclosed in a form appropriate to the assignment and consistent with applicable professional or court requirements.

Assessments can be designed to emphasize genuine understanding. Oral follow-up questions, supervised writing, reflective explanations and assignments based on course-specific facts make it more difficult to submit AI-generated work without comprehending it.

Teaching responsible use

Law schools should teach AI literacy as part of professional responsibility. The most durable response to covert use is competence, not prohibition. Students must understand that AI output can be inaccurate, biased, incomplete or fabricated, and that fluency is not evidence of reliability. A model can produce a persuasive summary of a partly invented case or a properly formatted citation to a decision that does not exist. Students should learn to verify every proposition and citation against primary sources, recognize the questions on which these systems are most likely to fail, safeguard client and course confidences before entering a prompt, disclose assistance when required and remain personally accountable for work submitted under their names.

These habits reflect the duties of competence, confidentiality and candour that will govern students in practice. Habits are best learned under supervision, where a mistake leads to correction rather than harm to a client. While law schools may be justified in protecting focused learning and independent thought, a total ban on digital devices is a blunt response to a complex problem. It suppresses conduct without teaching judgment and may disproportionately burden students who rely on technology.

Carefully designed device-free periods, accessible exceptions that preserve privacy, clear activity-specific AI rules, redesigned assessments and explicit instruction in responsible AI use offer a better balance. They can protect academic integrity while preparing students for the profession they are about to enter.

Connie L. Braun is a product adoption and learning consultant with LexisNexis Canada.
 
The opinions expressed are those of the author(s) and do not necessarily reflect the views of the author’s firm, its clients, Law360 Canada, LexisNexis Canada or any of its or their respective affiliates. This article is for general information purposes and is neither intended to be nor should be taken as legal advice.

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