I was wrong – about so many things (thank you, the anonymous gentleman at the back), but I’m thinking specifically of developments in higher education this autumn. I really thought, after my scheduled face-to-face-in-person seminar was switched online for the first two weeks of term as part of a ‘staggered return to campus’, that I wouldn’t be back in Exeter until 2021. And I certainly imagined, as the case numbers rose (nationally and on campus), that we’d be online by now – officially, I mean, rather than the de facto situation whereby the combination of students isolating and students voting with their feet leaves me talking to one or two masked students in a room and simultaneously trying to engage with the larger numbers on the screen.
However, there are degrees of culpability. I don’t feel that I over-estimated the likely spread of infection among the student population, or the probability of a second wave in the autumn. Given that I was asked if, hypothetically, I would want to go completely online and said no – thinking at that point that the majority of students would prefer some face-to-face – I don’t think I can be accused of being someone willing to sacrifice young people’s educational prospects in my eagerness to shirk my duties ((c) the ex-RCP crowd).
No, the basic flaw in my reasoning, I think – confirmed by the letter from the Universities Minister this morning, setting out government expectations about higher education under the new lockdown – was underestimating the fetishisation of face-to-face learning amongst those in power. It is asserted – with no visible evidence – that a switch to fully online teaching would jeopardise student learning and damage their mental health and well-being. So, universities must remain open (as if they were ever closed…), teaching must retain significant elements of face-to-face, standards must be maintained OR ELSE, and students must be kept on campus until someone comes up with a cunning plan for December, whether they like it or not.
My best guess is that this is a combination of dogma – online learning is by definition inferior, we never studied like that, it’s for OU type people rather than ‘normal’ students etc. – and fear that the more deviation there is from ‘normal’ provision, even on the grounds of quality, the more likely it is that students will demand refunds, universities will fall into financial black holes, and government will have to bail them out. It’s virtually cargo cult thinking: quality will be magically ensured by repeating the traditional rituals regardless of changing circumstances, whereas doing anything different, even if a rational case can be made that it would be better, jeopardises everything. It reveals the utter vacuousness of their conception of ‘quality’ – but actually they probably haven’t even thought it through that much; rather, exactly as with the hopeless plans for managing A-levels this summer, they just insist on inertia for inertia’s sake.
I do think that a seminar of people wearing masks and seated 2 metres apart, all facing forwards rather than being able to interact with one another, could have been made to work, and might indeed have given students a positive experience of talking to other people. There is no doubt that it would be significantly inferior to a seminar in normal circumstances, and the jury is out as to whether it would really be better than a proper online seminar where at least everyone can see each other.
But the crucial point is this: in retrospect it’s clear that such a scenario was never on offer. It was never going to be a choice between face-to-face seminar with social distancing and online seminar, but between fully online seminar and the current awkward bodge in which I try to engage with students via two media at once, having to improvise most of the technology myself. As I may have mentioned in a previous post, if it were just one or two students listening in online, I could concentrate my attention on the people in the room with a clear conscience, leaving online people to chip in if they wanted to. But when there are one or two people in the room with everyone else online, where am I actually supposed to focus? No one is getting my proper attention, and my ability to draw people into the discussion is effectively nil.
As I’ve mentioned before, in normal times teaching gives me energy and self-confidence that then feeds into research and general sense of self. It’s now the opposite, as I struggle to think how to prepare for sessions without any idea of what the circumstances will be, and every class leaves me tired and demoralised and full of anxiety and a sense of failure. It’s got to the point where – given that encouraging the remaining students to shift online will presumably bring down disciplinary charges – the least worst option seems to be to offer an extra hour per week just for online people, reserving the face-to-face session for anyone who actually turns up – which is pretty pointless, as there will then be no serious group discussion, but it can’t be as bad as me trying to talk to room and laptop simultaneously.
It’s not that online teaching is perfect and wonderful – yesterday also brought the unedifying experience of putting students in a Zoom session into breakout groups and immediately seeing several of them log out altogether. I honestly do not understand that – I’m more ready to cut some slack to those who didn’t turn up at all – but I am conscious that they must all be tired and anxious and probably miserable. We just have to get through this the best we can – working around external constraints as flexibly and humanely as possible…
Sphinx 
Re: breakout rooms, back when I used to do proper structured activities in seminars*, I found that breaking them up into small groups was very hit-and-miss**. Sometimes they’d click, sometimes they wouldn’t; I grew to expect to have three groups working and one looking at their phones – or two working, one chatting (“yeah, we’ve finished”) and one on their phones – or three people in a group of four working together and the fourth doodling… Sometimes people just don’t want to Work Together As A Group, nine grand or no nine grand, and you aren’t going to be the one to make them.
I guess what I’m saying here is, if teaching leaves you feeling exhausted, dispirited and demoralised, welcome to my world! (And I haven’t even done any teaching this term.)
I agree with all the above, regretfully, but I think you’re overlooking one of the big financial drivers: rent. In terms of where the money both goes and comes from, my institution isn’t far off being a property company with a library attached (and I’m pretty sure the same goes for the posh one down the road). That’s where the Open University comparison really grips: the one thing everyone knows about the OU is that you don’t have to leave home.
*This is some time ago, for reasons that are not all good.
**But then, everything was hit-and-miss, apart from one weird trick which worked superbly – didi exactly what it said it would, including raised levels of engagement and attainment – for about 10% of the cohort and repelled everyone else.
Yes, I suppose it’s that it’s SO BLOODY OBVIOUS that they’re ducking out – ther names are there, then suddenly they’re gone – and of course it’s so much easier to do it when you don’t have to gather your things and edge out of the room being glared at. Given how many of them may still be isolating and starved of social contact, I actually wouldn’t mind if they ignored my instructions and just talked about football for five minutes.
Take care and stay safe, Neville.