For my class this fall,
I was asked to submit the format I would utilize in response to COVID-19:
1. Must be on campus.
2. Would like to be on campus.
3. Hybrid—on campus and online.
4. Online asynchronous.
5. Online synchronous.
Most teachers across
the country are facing similar decisions.
I like working with students in person because it is responsive and
organic. There is spontaneity and
creativity, especially with discussions.
Zoom meetings are fine, but they lose a little in transmission over the
digital ether; there is a delay that is stilted, or the Wi-Fi chooses its
moments to cut out leading to garbled speech and pixelated images.
Beyond that, I am not
so sure COVID-19 will have run its course by fall. I am thinking that I should plan ahead
regarding a second wave of infection and keep the course online. Like all of the classes and workshops I
teach, the course is discussion-based and because its mandate is to help
students who are struggling with academics and college life, the curriculum is
set up to respond to the needs of the students in that particular class in that
particular semester. The instructor and the students determine how deep we
delve and what areas we explore. In
short, it is much different from an academic class where there is prescribed
material that must be covered in the eighteen weeks. In this course, we allow and expect tangents.
Within the limits
dictated by COVID-19, I chose online synchronous. Students will need to log on at the same time
each week in a Zoom meeting and we will proceed from there. At some point in the fall, if the threat of
the virus diminishes, I might be able to move it back on campus. This choice will change the way we conduct
class, but I felt a tinge of excitement at the prospect of rethinking the
course and how to operate in the digital and virtual classroom.
Scholars of history
say that the rise of Bubonic plague in the fourteenth century led to the
Renaissance of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. The entire culture was forced to change
because of a flea, to put it in succinct terms.
Here in the
twenty-first century, we are dropping social etiquette procedures like the
handshake as greeting, and we are learning to work from home and conduct
business in ways we have only dreamed about previously. How many times have we considered telecommuting? We spend so much wasted time in traffic,
clogging our freeways and destroying our lungs.
Now, as we commute down the hall, traffic accidents are down and the
crime rate has improved. Air quality is
fantastic. In Venice, Italy, schools of
fish can be seen in the canals which were formerly murky and polluted.
We also have changed
our social mores. Although wearing a
mask in public has been met with ridicule by less enlightened Americans, it is a custom among East-Asian cultures to wear face coverings to prevent the spread
of disease. It is a sign of respect to
cover the mouth when sick so as not to sneeze or cough or even speak and spread
germs. We are rewriting the rules of
social engagement with our six feet of separation and our hand-washing. Americans are reluctant to adopt these
revised measures, but maybe it is time to rethink the way we operate. A simple bow over a bear hug is a good thing,
especially in light of the fact that coronavirus was not the first and
definitely will not be the last contagion to spread throughout the world. This COVID-19 situation will be the norm
rather than the exception. With SARS,
avian flu, Ebola, we can no longer afford to be callous about personal space
and hygiene.
This is, despite the
tragic death toll and those desperately sick, an opportunity for
creativity. We have the chance to remake
the social operating procedures that we have never questioned before
coronavirus. We can rethink and reinvent
the way we educate, shop, live, and work.
This COVID-19 is propelling us into a new age. Will it be a second Renaissance? Too early to tell, but we should not fight
whatever changes it brings.
This weekend, we are
holding our first orientation completely online for new students. The change is so dramatic as to be disconcerting
in some ways. Some sessions will involve
a hundred or more students in a Zoom meeting.
How do we get everyone’s microphone muted so there is no feedback noise? What if the internet goes down? What if we fail to notice the student’s
signal to ask a question? Most important,
how do we give them a sense of what college life will be like when we are not
at the college but in a digital netherworld, each of us ensconced in our
offices or homes? We will be separate,
that is for sure, but we are not alone.
In a sense, we are now, truly, a mosaic—little picture tiles on a screen
that taken together, add up to the portrait of the freshmen class of 2020.
Is it real if we are
part of a virtual group? Many of our
planned activities strive to make students feel excited about this new phase in
their lives where they will study diverse curricula and interact with a multicultural
population of teachers and peers as they ease into adulthood. It is hard not to see it as just one person
alone with a screen pretending to be part of some nebulous group, one declared
cohesive even cleaved as it is by the physical divide. Can we build a digital bridge to
togetherness? We can, and we will. Human ingenuity will make it so. It is up to us to accept the invitation
extended by the circumstances of COVID-19, and find a way to flourish in this
new, very real world. Welcome to it.
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