This is an intervention. For everyone who panics about early-onset dementia every time you forget what you ate for breakfast and especially with the seasonal flip of an exam paper as the clock starts ticking. Are we remembering less and less? Is it sleep loss? TikTok? Those AI breatha reels we’d rather forget? Or “that damn phone” altogether? Maybe our lecturers were right, and pen and paper is exactly where we should regress to.
Critic Te Ārohi gathered several partially rehabilitated students into a metaphorical support group for the internet-addicted. These brave students are in varying stages of recovery, some simply endorsing note-taking strategies on refill paper, while others have quit social media altogether. As each person shared, symptoms of withdrawal were clear: twitchy phantom scrolling fingers, intermittent grabs for a phone that wasn’t there, and unfocused eyes that wandered as if looking for a split-screen. We’ve roped together the most un-creatureous campus cohort who, like a horny one-night stand with zero concern for safe sax, have taken Otago University raw.
And so it begins. The light flickers from a bare bulb hanging in the centre of the totally real and not imagined room where the session ensues. Using UNO rules, it all starts to the left of Critic: Zoe, a loyal staff member to the student magazine, but don’t you dare look at her screen time. Zoe’s subtle tan betrays her return from what she’s begun referring to as a “rehabilitation excursion” in the Indonesian sea. There, she survived without social media for three whole nights, and four whole days. “I felt fucking awesome,” she says, describing reading the backs of hand wash bottles while on the toilet, daydreaming pitches for Critic, and actually reading the book she’d brought on the trip.
But it didn’t last. “I’ve…” she stutters, “I’ve relapsed.” As soon as she was back on dry land, Zoe curated the “perfect” Insta post from her trip. They do say the back and forth is all a part of the process. “Remember how it felt, Zoe?” Critic asks. “No more doom scrolling, Otago Gooning reels, or sem 1 photo dumps.” Her eyes lift and she ponders for a moment. “Better memory, 8pm bedtimes,” Critic continues as Zoe’s lip begins to quiver. “I’m sorry!” she cries. “I’ve been using it every day since my return and I can hardly sleep without seeing the perfect GRWM!” With a metaphorical hand on Zoe’s shoulder, Critic reassures her. “There, there. How about we move on to someone else?”
Ella raises her hand next. Following advice from her 200-level maths paper, she’s taking the leap and going au naturel this semester. When it comes to math, it’s far easier to go all pressed-wood and ink when noting down and annotating equations, and she likes the aesthetic of sharpening her pencil for a particularly juicy formula. “I’ve even thought about buying a chalkboard for home study sessions,” she says with a gleam in her eye, perhaps picturing Murphy from Interstellar. “That’s wonderful, Ella,” Critic says. She admits to the group that while she does still find lecture slides easier to annotate on a laptop sometimes, for the most part she likes feeling like she’s no longer “rotting” her brain. When Critic asks whether she’d recommend the change to others, she replies, “De-pens on the paper.”
Eyes shift to her left to the newest member of the group. Sam is a relatively well-known figure on campus through his presence on both Critic and Radio One social media. Sam is fluent in brain-rot and is the most chronically online person many in his circles know. There isn’t an Insta Reel he hasn’t seen, nor a Facebook Marketplace item he hasn’t considered. Out of concern for Sam, his sister encouraged him to join the support group. Sam has just completed one week without social media – including LinkedIn. “It was actually fine,” he says. “I just found that I’d been using it as a social crutch a lot. I haven’t known where to look this week to avoid eye contact without it.” But besides that – and his friends getting annoyed they can’t track him on Snap Maps – he’s felt surprisingly little change.
Alia and Isabel have come together. The pair are both second-year Med students in a partial technological rehabilitation. The two of them use the sploogy chemicals and cellulose fibres tactic for some of their papers, finding it had a notable impact on their learning capabilities and lasting memory. “I’ve started remembering shit so much better,” says Alia. The tactile lifestyle has been transformative for her. Before making the switch, she’d had trouble with falling asleep in lectures. “If I write my notes it forces me to take in the information and process it,” she explains. A beautiful story of personal growth. Isabel followed her friend’s lead, and shyly adds that she’s reconnected with her childhood love of doodling – or doing “little drawings on the side,” as she put it. Two different personal experiences, but equally inspirational.
Leonard* raises his hand. He recently joined the support group with one condition: total anonymity. Leonard’s been sober roughly three months now. No Instagram. No Snapchat. Not even Facebook. He’s even gone ‘book and quill’ in his lectures. How he survives without a daily squiz through Facebook Marketplace is anyone’s guess, but Leonard does it nonetheless. Since his joining he’s been a real inspiration to the group. “I’m still using my phone only for calls, texts and music… and Youtube sometimes,” he admits.
In times like these, Leonard’s testimony is crucial. “I’ve spent more time with things that matter, and people I care about,” he explains. “I seem to remember things better when I write it down. It forces you to put the information in your own words and gives you practice with actually writing it down too.” You can always trust Leonard to inspire. He’s virtually ascended the ties of technological advancement with a will power stronger than most. Leonard is living his best life. Critic turns to the group. “Perhaps we can all take a leaf out of Leonard's book today.”
*Name changed.