The semester is over: Thoughts

 Very few people even come to this blog; I think mostly it's porn sites trolling me. But I write anyway. 

Many, perhaps most, people in higher education claim this to be worst semester we have ever spent. Perhaps. Perhaps collectively; I would not say that for individuals, because Fall 2001 would have been really horrific for people in the Northeast, and there have been regional national disasters that have wrecked havoc (wreaked?) on colleges and universities. But COVID affects everyone, at some level. 

We are wrapping up final exams, thankfully before Thanksgiving, and in the midst of grading at my college. I have been told how bad it is every day since August 1. Many of my colleagues said repeatedly, "We're going to shut down after two weeks, the cases will be so high." We did not. Cases did not get "spikey" until last week, and there are a few reasons for that I'll get into below. Many faculty prepared their classes in case of shut down in September. Some decided to go online in the second week, even though their classes were neither advertised as online or designed as online (I might get in trouble for publishing that). I'm sure my institution is not alone in that. 

To be honest, I got sickly tired of hearing how bad it was for everyone. I became cynical. I especially became cynical about students. We were supposed to, in most cases, divide our classes into two segments and meet half on Monday or Tuesday and the other half on Wednesday or Thursday. This so we could have social distancing in the classrooms. So, a class of 30 would only have 15 in attendance. I think that was a fruitful idea and while I didn't' like it, I believe it would have worked well and kept infections down.  

IF

The if has to do with students. They didn't come. And it wasn't because of quarantining or infection. They just didn't come. We were told to stream our classes. They didn't log in. Half of that ideal 15 was a good day for attendance. So what were they doing? 

We don't know. They weren't keeping up with work, that's for sure. I fear a pretty high DWF rate. I attribute that to a number of reasons, and I can't say the faculty were entirely without some responsibility. Not using instructional technology well and not realizing that online teaching requires a lot more attention to detail and students' needs would be the main accusations.  

I also posit that because of the distancing-aloofness-overcareful nature of this semester, on top of concerns for family, students were alienated, confused, unsupported, lost, and not a little depressed. Depressed not in a clinical sense but a circumstantial, existential sense. Hopelessness may have been more a state for them than we detect, because at their young ages they do not have the life experiences and developed values to depend on (much less spiritual resources). These students grew up in the aftermath of 9/11 but didn't watch the planes hit the Trade Center, see the hordes of New Yorkers covered with dust move across the bridges out of Manhattan. They don't know Rudy Giuliani was a hero rather than a crazy man ranting about election fraud. They don't know from experience humanity will move on.

I also posit some in leadership were more concerned about student trauma than faculty trauma. Not at my institution, I must rush to say, but in the literature I read. We are those more likely to die, by the way, statistically speaking, as are our spouses and parents. We are the ones in the building every day, exposed. I didn't miss a day this semester. I cherish and am thankful two days before Thanksgiving for no infections and strong health. But I'm 65 next month. 

Therefore, I have little empathy for my students who just refuse to come or who plead "I've got a headache, so I'm going to quarantine" despite no exposure. I asked one of my junior level classes about this phenomenon. "It's just easier not to come, to stay in bed," they admitted. 

Worse, the excuses and the lies. I called out two students this semester on this point. One claimed their roommate had a seizure at the exact moment they were supposed to log in to take a test. I followed up; no, that wasn't the case.  Another claimed their grandmother died the night before a test. This student has had two grandmothers die and a niece in the past six months, conveniently when assignments were missed. I asked the college to get her counseling.  At least I'll get the reputation for not accepting such stories at face value.

(That might get me in trouble, too, but no genders or names given.)

By the way, wearing a mask, teaching in a mask, keeping my distance, all that, was not a problem for me. I really don't get the mask opposition; it's a small thing, it works better than no masks, and get over yourself. In Georgia, local municipalities refuse to have masks mandates and are quite proud of it. Consequently, the county in which my college resides has a pretty high infection rate, 7%. (the county where I reside, right across the line, has a 2.9% infection rate, in comparison). There are some other reasons for that; a larger metropolitan area, so to speak, and demographic differences. But still quite different to be that close geographically.) 

On the positive side, I had students who did stellar work; we had four interns have great experiences; my theatre faculty member actually put on a play (and one I wrote, no less!) that people actually came to and we made money, even. We had really pretty low infection rates on campus, all things considered. We had more students than we expected enroll. I taught two new classes (well, versions of them) one Honors public speaking and a version of First Year Experience. Students did learn, although perhaps not as much as they should have. Good teaching happened, and some faculty learned more about pedagogy. 

And I hope we will save money by more online meetings (although not entirely. Short call-in sessions, yes; meetings where deep discussion is needed, not so much.)

We will never be the same after this, but I hope we can move past the "Trauma" label. The truly traumatized ones are those who lost loved ones but could not bury them or be with them at the end. I can't imagine losing my mother that way. Will we shake hands? Will we hug people we don't know well? Time will tell. Did the pandemic cause Trump's loss? I don't think so; he had alienated so many that he was likely to losel although I'm no fan of Joe Biden and his ilk, getting "bad orange man" off the public stage and continual consciousness will be fresh. 

I also learned this semester that this generation (Z, is it?) are overly concerned about their mental health. They are all anxious, scared, and depressed, even before this happened. How did we create this group? The millennials look like the greatest generation in comparison (they just might turn out to be so!)

I look forward to comments on this blog that rarely gets posted to and rarely gets read.