With a look
of terror and distress in her eyes, my student whispered
to me: “Sir, can I speak to you privately please?”
I’m
a CÉGEP prof and it was close to the start of a class
in February, 2022. I usually do not oblige such requests
with so little time to talk before the start of class as
I am usually quite busy preparing my course notes. But I
immediately saw something was really wrong, even though
her face was hard to read through her mask. We went outside
to the hallway, and she explained that she was having a
full-blown panic attack and could not stay for the class.
I had no doubt she was telling the truth, and that it was
not her fault. The forced confinements of the last two years
have shown us that education is not simply the inputting
of facts and information into the brains of students. It
is also a collective experience that makes us human, and
that especially holds true for the young.
Which
raises the question: What exactly is higher education? The
short answer is an obvious one: to learn, to be taught facts
and information that you can apply in your future life.
What one typically hears is that the classroom facilitates
socialization so that students can learn to form bonds that
will help them build and develop networks as they pursue
their education and future careers. True as that may be,
I am convinced that by far and away the most salient aspect
of higher education is simply, but definitively, the “experience”
of being there -- for which there is no substitution. That
is what the lockdowns taught me.
THE LOCKDOWNS
HAVE FORCED A RETHINK OF WHAT IT MEANS TO LEARN.
Before
March, 2020 I had not fully realized this, despite having
already spent more than 20 years as an educator in a variety
of contexts, including more than a dozen years as a Cégep
professor of English in the French-language system. I had,
in fact, done a fair amount of thinking about what I was
actually trying to achieve with students. which is something
every self-respecting teacher should consider. But when
the corona virus lockdown hit in March 2020, I found myself
at home, like many others. After two weeks of assuming that
a return to the classroom was imminent, it became 
obvious
that this was not a ‘flatten the curve’ thing.
We were stuck at home for the long haul, and it became clear
that we basically had two choices: we were going to have
to either teach from home (electronically), or cancel the
session. So our union decided we would transition to distance
learning, using Zoom.
At the
time, I thought this was fair to the students, since cancelling
the session left no reasonable options. We had already completed
about half a semester, so the work done up to that point
would have been for naught had we declared their courses
incomplete with no credits accorded. On the other hand,
to give credits for half a session of work seemed problematic:
the students would not have the competencies that those
credits are supposed to indicate, nor would the grades be
much of an indication of anything. So the best compromise
was to teach from home.
It should
be noted here the appalling attitude of some teachers at
one of our union meetings. A minority of them were demanding
the session be cancelled altogether, with our paycheques
to continue in full, of course. This seemed utterly selfish,
showing no regard for the negative effects on students.
Sadly, this wasn’t the first time that educators would
show little regard for the plight of their pupils. But luckily,
we have a good union president (Sylvie Demers), a talented
negotiator who calmly pointed out we had signed a contract
to teach an entire session, and were obliged (to our students)
to make sure all the material was taught, graded and credits
accorded.
I had
never used Zoom before and it turned out to be a fairly
steep learning curve. But I adapt well to new situations,
so within those few months, and then the following entire
school year (2020-2021) I developed a system to teach using
Zoom. I won’t bore you with the details, but suffice
it to say it seemed to generally work. Even better, the
students appeared to quite like my technique, because it
involved smaller groups and shorter class time. What Cégep
student would say ‘no’ to one hour of class
per week instead of three?
As you
can no doubt imagine from my tone, I was not ecstatic about
full time distance learning. But I didn’t realize
how much I disliked it and how unfair and ineffective it
was to students until we returned to the classroom in the
fall of 2021. That academic year (Fall 2021 to Spring 2022)
helped me draw some conclusions about the effects of full-time
online learning and the forced confinements.
In order
to stimulate brain activity, I use what is called a ‘communicative
method’ which is basically a fancy way of saying ‘Socratic.’
In fact, as a language teacher, I was trained to do this:
arrange the students in small groups and get them to answer
questions. We usually learn better when we articulate (actively)
something, rather than if it is just told to us (passively)
– so goes the theory. For reasons I’ll explore
in a minute, one needs to be physically present for optimal
results.
SOCIALIZATION:
CHALLENGES AND CONSEQUENCES
What about
the social aspect of education? I would never pretend to
know what my students are doing socially. However, I do
try to understand what they are going through in their personal
lives, and sometimes that involves personal interaction
of some sort. Part of what we do as humans is to form bonds
with each other, so I work hard to build such bonds with
every student while obviously maintaining a professional
distance. And it pays off. Many students have confided in
me, asked for advice and some have become friends. As with
parenting, it is hard to find that delicate balance between
being respected and yet sufficiently warm and open enough
to build trust. Some of the most satisfying moments of my
career are to be found in that balance. Sometimes I truly
feel I am making a difference in the lives in young people,
who, lest we forget, are the future of this country.
But as
I pointed out earlier, higher education is more complicated
than simply mastering subject matter and learning how to
socialize.
For example,
Zoom classes, even in small groups (with their cameras on),
are simply not as satisfying compared to face to face interaction
with students in a classroom. And the science supports this
thesis.
First
of all, when we are looking at a person through a screen
we are not actually looking eye to eye. We are looking at
a screen, seeing their eyes there, and they are also looking
at a screen. However subtle the distinction, this screen
interface can interfere with or inhibit the production of
‘oxytocin,’ the hormone that is released when
we are comfortable looking into the eyes of an interlocutor.
Furthermore,
screen communication produces a slight delay, which discourages
spontaneity. Compared to Zoom or Teams, even talking on
a telephone is a more spontaneous. To teach effectively
I had to implement a more authoritative model: I would give
a short speech, and ignore anyone trying to interject (to
avoid the ‘talk-over’ problem). Then, I would
call on a student and ask him or her a clear question, and
allow that student to talk unimpeded until it was obvious
he or she had finished. Then I would talk again. This was
to avoid ‘overtalk,’ that can result in two
people talking at the same time, since none of the speakers
will be aware of the delay until a second or two have elapsed.
Users of Zoom or Teams will be all too familiar with this
inconvenience. By analogy, it’s like trying to avoid
someone approaching you on the street and you simultaneously
move into each other’s path, obliging you to re-correct,
and maybe more than once. However, as it concerned the manner
in which I like to conduct my classes, the authoritative
technique was utterly stifling to my free, open and creative
nature.
To illustrate
the importance of physical presence in learning, I introduced
the following analogy to my students. “Imagine you
had free tickets to the Bell Centre to see your favourite
rapper/singer. Or, you could live-stream the same event
in the comfort of your home in front of a kick-ass, 120-inch
mounted flat screen with Dolby 5.1 surround sound. And since
you’re at home, you can do whatever you like: snack,
drink, smoke, vape, bathroom nearby. Would you rather go
to the live show or watch it from home?"
The general
consensus was that it would be better to go to the Bell
Centre, (not to compare myself to Drake, which was usually
a self-deprecating joke I would use, which is also true).
Personally,
I find the actual experience of live music is so much better,
and same holds for the classroom. When I was a student with
a great teacher, it was a subjectively more fulfilling experience,
and that seemed more important than any learning of facts.
I wanted to be inspired, to see how connections are made,
and to feel that sense of wonder discovering new things
together. It is something intangible. I don’t know
if science could ever fully give us the answer to why it
is more rewarding to go to the Bell Centre to see Pitbull
than to watch a livestream of him, but is, and the same
is true of the classroom versus a Zoom lesson.
As much
as I disliked teaching remotely, many of the students probably
suffered more. During the confinement, many did not complete
courses. Some stopped attending regularly and were unable
to keep up with work requirements and failed as a consequence.
One could speculate: maybe it was difficult to adapt, or
perhaps some of them needed the structure and discipline
of a regular physical class to motivate them to attend,
and thus be able to complete the course. I have not done
a full content analysis, but the incompletion and failure
rate was higher than normal, and it persisted through the
entirety of the lockdown.
However,
what was more disconcerting once classes returned to partial
normality (in-person, but with masks and other precautions),
were the behavioural changes. The lockdowns seemed to have
negatively affected some of the students. A number of them
seemed less well socialized and less able to focus on a
task. Others were aware of this problem and would even apologize
directly to me for untoward behaviour; others reacted negatively,
even defensively when I pointed it out to them. Worse, many
students confessed to me privately that they were suffering
from panic attacks (or other anxiety disorders) and had
to leave a class, or wouldn't be able to attend.
Looking
back, it should have been self-evident that if a teenager
is already socially anxious and insecure, the worst thing
that can be done to that teenager is to lock him up in his
house and force him to stare at a screen all day long as
a substitute for going to school. That will make that young
person even more anxious, more socially awkward and insecure.
A niece
of mine in the United States, who is now 15-years-old, went
through an extremely difficult time during the lockdowns.
She suffered serious depression that had all of us, especially
her parents, worried sick and outraged at the teachers and
bureaucrats in California for their malfeasance. These latter
individuals persisted in forcing school closures to continue
far longer than they should have, and this may have caused
irreparable damage. A year-and-a-half or two can be an eternity
if you’re in your teens, and if a young person is
already suffering from anxiety or depression, forced confinement
will make it worse. In other words, no one should have been
surprised that mental disorders and suicide attempts rose
during the lockdowns. My niece’s story was not unique,
it tracked with what I was observing with my students, most
of whom were only slightly older than her.
And so I return
to the question: what is higher education? Maybe the classroom
is just an extension of how human beings have always related
and interacted. As ancients we sat around campfires, discussing
all manner of things: what the issues were for our tribe
that week, what is true about the universe and the stars
above, what is true about the world, why life is both unfair
and yet the greatest miracle we can imagine. It seems that
we need to discover things together, that social interaction
is the best guarantor of a healthy learning environment.
The philosopher Merleau-Ponty writes, “Sometimes one
starts to dream about what culture, literary life, and teaching
could be if all those who participate would give themselves
up to the happiness of reflecting together.” This
describes my purpose and mission as an educator: getting
together and exploring a subject and cultivating a sense
of wonder in pursuit of truth. And when we find connections
and discover something new, something flares within us.
I’m now more convinced than ever that those life-changing
experiences are far more likely to happen when we are physically
together.
