Yesterday I taught in person for the first time in almost two years. Here in Colorado it was March 2020 when the COVID-related shutdowns hit us. Just before Spring Break, I remember taking a few minutes at the end of class with my World Mythology students at Front Range Community College to discuss what we guessed was "probably/definitely” going to happen: converting our course from in person to remote. One student even wanted to shake my hand to thank me for how much he was enjoying the course up until that point, we then all laughed — in a bit of gallows’ humor, perhaps — about how we hoped that this one handshake didn’t turn into an outbreak (and thankfully, it did not).
One key question that we discussed was whether or not we should convert to remote synchronous or asynchronous. Some students wanted us to meet synchronously because they already had time in their schedule blocked off for our class. Other students reported (both in class and privately) that they did not feel comfortable with the synchronous format because they did not have an appropriate place at their home for Zoom calls. In the end, I opted for the modality that ensured everyone had access, which was asynchronous. Was that the right decision?
Looking back over the past two years, during which time I have taught both synchronously and asynchronously, I’m still not sure. Take my preferences out of the equation - the truth is that there are some students who do better in one of those two formats than others, so there was no way to make that change from traditional in person learning to any type of remote format without essentially disenfranchising some of the students. After all, they signed up for an in person class, not a remote class. But the pandemic meant we were all making due with the “least worst” of possible choices. It was a shock to the system regardless, and I think we all muddled through as best we could. I mostly gave them full points for (virtually) showing up at all, turning in assignments, participating in discussion threads, and showing me that they were still engaging with the material.
Fast forward almost two full years, and yesterday I stepped into a classroom again. It was very strange at first. I realized how comfortable I have become with my improvised Zoom studio in my garage, complete with shoji screens to distract my audience (and myself) from the reality that I am sitting in…well, a garage, complete with boxes of Christmas ornaments, power tools, and left over floor tile all on full display on the shelves behind where I have set up a small workspace. In this new classroom, I first had to ask for help to find the classroom, then I had to figure out how to set up the class projector, then — all importantly — which way to the cafeteria? Everything worked out, except when it came to project my screen, the system that worked perfectly before class apparently decided it did not want to work during class, so I had to play audio clips using my computer’s rather modest speakers. The students didn’t seem to mind, and I reminded myself of the mantra developed over many years of teaching: “just take a breath, roll with it, it’s okay.”
After a few hours, my mask — N95 for the win!?!? — really hurt the bridge of my nose. I had met these students a few times for remote sessions earlier in the term (they all looked taller to me on Zoom, for some reason), but it was wonderful to get to see them in person. The physicality of being in person is so different. One student wore a hat with the slogan “This is native land,” and we talked about how relevant that was almost everywhere imaginable in the U.S. Another student marveled at finally being able to have a class in person, since their entire time in the degree program up until yesterday had consisted of remote learning. And I realized how hard it can be for me to remember students’ names without those handy built in name tags at the bottom of the otherwise dreaded black boxes of Zoom! Also - my handwriting has definitely degraded by several orders of magnitude — and this was already from a place where my students in the past asked me in all honesty if I was writing in English or Arabic on the board, they couldn’t quite tell the difference…or maybe they were being cheeky? But the feeling of a dry erase marker in my hand was amazing. I looked at the board, filled with notes (including where students wrote out their discussion questions), and I did think, “This is what education looks like.” Of course, it hasn’t looked like this for a long time, and all of us have adjusted as best we could to these conditions. As comfortable as I have become teaching remotely, I have to admit that teaching in person again was invigorating…even if slogging through traffic on the drive home was…less so.