Finding my voice again

 

"I miss being in class," I thought to myself as I yet again sat down to teach online.

From the very beginning, I knew I'd be teaching online, when coming to Poznan. I don't mind sitting in front of a computer most of the day (I already did), and I don't mind being on camera during lessons. I make sure my appearance isn't (too) messy, but I'm not as overly self-conscious as I used to be.

I also find it generally well mannered to put up a profile picture when presenting yourself on a webpage (wait? do I have a profile picture on my blog??) - nothing as awkward as passing a colleague in the hall without recognizing her, because she didn't have a profile picture on the department webpage, right?

Getting here, I only met the first year students briefly the first day of the academic year. From then on everyting was online. As was teaching 3rd and 4th year. As a teacher, I probably have a tendency to forget that new students do not know me, or my informal way of communication ... or sense of humour. But in general they get to know me fairly quickly as we move around each other during class and breaks. They know quite a bit about me from the anecdotes I braid into the understanding of difficult thoughts and theoretical contemplations. They know from the way I move that I don't take myself too seriously on a personal level, but that I do mean business when we talk academic topics. I've spent years to learn to connect head and body, when working.

Online teaching has blown up that castle. Being reduced to a square at the right bottom of my screen, and my students reducing themselves to pastel circles with their initials, hardly ever turning on the cameras, puts your image of your teacher self to the test. Who am I without my body? Who are the students?

By now, I know most of them by their voices, but teaching language online is tricky. Imagine working your way through university on the phone?? Language, communication, teaching is amputated without the cues we get from facial expressions and movement of the body. I cannot judge from the silence online whether the student has fallen asleep (something we sometimes joke about among the teachers), is struggling, or thinking. 

My smallest class turned on their cameras from day one. I know now that when Andrzej turns his head towards the light floating through his window, it's a sign he's considering something being said. I needn't worry, just give him time. I know now that Alicja B. as well as Alicja K. have their own way of showing amusement during classes, and they're not afraid to turn on the microphone to comment - or to comment in the chat. It was also in this class that we came up with the idea of using the same background to our online appearance to give us the impression of being in the same classroom. Beata didn't have the teaching app, so she couldn't use the background feature. The solution was that she sent us a picture of her room in her parents' house to use as background, thus having class at her place. AND she was careful to arrange pillows and more, so that her daily setting would be identical with the image she sent us.

The two other classes are less inclined to turn on cameras not to mention uploading a profile picture to replace their initials (as illustrated above). It has taken university two semesters to come up with guidelines specifying that teachers can set the guidelines for camera use during class. So, this semester students must be on camera when speaking and when working in groups. Especially the first year students were a bit shy, timid, self-conscious about that part, but they're getting there ... slowly but surely. Imagine having real life classes again next fall, coming to university and not knowing what your fellow students look like. It will be like starting all over. And we have already lost a few first year students - probably due to the alienating experience of online teaching.

I get it. Some students are experiencing mental problems during the pandemic. The online teaching, the social isolation, for some the return to their family homes and having to give up the independent life of a student, contracting Covid-19 themselves, sitting in front of the computer all bloody day. I get it. I don't envy them. But online teaching is our best alternative option at the moment. Turning the camera off is not exploiting that option to its fullest. It's missing out on the laughs, when discovering someone's puzzled face as they try to understand or pronounce language. It's missing the awkward situations, the dog snores in its sleep next to the computer, the cat jumping to the keyboard all of a sudden, or a mum walking by with a cup of tea.

So, I'm finally finding my voice again, giving these awkward moments in online teaching cameras on an expression. Sharing what I see, how I interpret it, how it contributes to a different learning process. In general I think I embody another approach to learning than some of the students are used to ... and are willing to embrace. I have become very specific explaining how and why the social aspect is key to good language learning even online, and I believe that - online obstacles apart - the students benefit more from the lessons than when trying to pull through in isolation for as long as it lasts.

It's not ideal, but it's better than trying to learn through a phone.

The burdens of each generation

 

"Poor little ones!" the elderly lady selling masks exclaimed."They are the first generation to not have someone close in the family to live through the war. And now this! Dear God!"

I had just bought two facemasks for my grandchildren back home, and the seller and I had discussed age, size, design, slowly finding a mutual understanding of what I wanted to buy. I ended up with a pink mask with stars and a green one with cute little foxes. There. The maske-selling masked lady's voice oozed with heartfelt empathy for the children having to wear masks now - more or less from the time they quit their stroller.

Masks are mandatory everywhere in Poland these days. Have been for ... four or five weeks at this moment? My sense of time gets blurred like my steemed up glasses. Restaurants and cafés have been closed for just as long, malls for two weeks. Street shops are open, but taking all necessary precautions, letting in only af few customers at a time. Parks and recreational spaces are crowded, though. Especially over the weekends.

Up to perhaps 95% of people in the streets wear masks. Sounds like a good rate, right?

Wait till you see just HOW people wear them. If your having a fag or a snack, you will of course pull down your mask. But otherwise I reckon that about 1/3 has pulled their mask under their nose or even under their chin. Many have chosen to wear a visor - either sheilding half or all of their face. They steem up, too, it seems. Young people wear more creativ designs, others stick to the disposable, single use mask ... not having figured out the metal clamp over the nose. Some people use this kind several times. Like for instance the old, scrubby lady in a dirty coat. As a good citizen she was wearing a mask that had turned grey over time from use and what not. The boundaries between ressourcefull, careless, poor, negligent, or swag mask-users are clear cut in the street landscape.

Back home in Denmark, people don't wear masks unless indoors or in public transportation. Sounds like a fairytale to me. Seems to be very, very far away. Another world. Not that I'm complaining. It's just a mask, and I'm figuring out which ones to wear when moving gracefully (dark blue with rhine stone decoration) or energetically (folklore flowers) in my hood - or when biking (and, yes, I pull the mask under my nose, when I ride my bike - steemed up glasses spell disaster if you're on a bike). No drama. Unlike parts of the discussions around the world. 

And my granddaughter in Denmark? She keeps asking for a day off with mom, so they can ride the bus wearing stylish, Polish masks.