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.

Why? This? Now?

"Are you splitting up?" was the first reaction I got, when revealing I had applied for a position in Poland. To be fair, the person didn't know me too well.

However, the question of why this now? is relevant - if for nothing else, to at least have an idea about the motivation for doing, what you're about to do.

So here we go. 

Professional reasons: I wanted to try out and develop a trait of my professional life by teaching Danish to university students in Poland (Yes! it IS a thing - just like studying Polish in Denmark is). Working in teacher education, I'll get a hands on experience of teaching a second language this way. A kind of walk the walk, not just do the talk. Furthermore, after more than 15 years in the same line of teaching, I needed to push myself out of the comfort zone. And, yes, I've been in this city, this university, this department as a student, so there's also a subtle point of being a Polonist crossing my tracks to the story.

Personal reasons: No, we are not splitting up. Far from (but make no mistake: this would have been jeopardous some years back). The kids are grown now, so pursuing a professional dream of this kind was possible without having to move (or abandon) the whole family in the midst of the childrens' basic education. None of my closest family or friends have expressed anything but support and encouragement. A few more distant friends have reacted in ways that would focus on the significance this would have for my professional profile. Colleagues have been supportive as well - even though we shan't have the daily raport we used to.

Except for very limited areas in life, I guess I've always been a bit unpredictable, surprising or even incomprehensible. I wear those as badges of honour.

"Aren't you just running away from this or that?" is a question I've asked myself many times. Not so much, I think. Or rather - what may start off as some sort of escape, ends up having a goal and a purpose of its own. No action has one simple explanation if you're dealing with the higher levels of Maslow's hierarchy of needs. Without the sense of connection and belonging - and especially knowing where you belong - the whole question of self-actualization becomes a risky business. 

Don't jump into the deep end unless you know how to swim.

What's in a name?

Stary Rynek, Poznań

"Oh, so you're a PhD?" the lady in HR said crossing out one title, replacing it with dr. I am now officially dr. Arnfast after moving from Copenhagen, Denmark, to Poznań, Poland. According to local academia, not only should I (and the students even more) use my title to take the place in society that I have earned - it's expected.

Coming from a very informal society when it comes to names and titles, this is a tangible difference between Denmark and Poland. In Danish academia, you won't find anyone using titles unless on grand occasions. In the daily work, it's considered stiff, up-stiffety, unnecessarily posh, a relict from before the youth rebellion (1968 in case you wonder).

At the introductory meeting with the students there was even a slide in the slideshow with examples of how to address academic staff in writing and in speech: magister (mgr.), doktor habilitowany (dr. hab.)(PhD), Mr./Mrs., most honourable Mr./Mrs. The feeling of being not only in Central Europe, but in the center of manifest history is overwhelming. I was happy I didn't crack a joke to the students about only calling me dr. Arnfast once a year.

The Barista

But there was more to come. Another sign of equality in naming a person in Denmark is the possibility of using both parents' names - if they have kept their christian names. So, mine is: first name + middle name (patronym) + last name (matronym). Not here. 

If a woman marries, she may either take her husband's family name, or she may add it to her own, using a hyphen to signify the liason. It's rather common among women with higher educations, and it holds a powerful signature of both social and educational prestige.

As a part of signing my contract here, I've been collecting stamps and signatures from differents offices and departments. It wasn't until I sat in the last office on a Tuesday morning, I realised how my middle name messes up the local systems. There is no box for middle names. If you're lucky, there's a box for second first name. That's it. So, I'm adjusting. Putting away the middle name I took as a pre-teen to manifest the bond with my father. Leaving the Arnfast name to rule my life as a visiting citizen in Poland on its own. It feels a bit like temporarily storing a part of my identity, and I feel the slightly rebellious joy of signing papers using S. to indicate there's more to this dr. than merely Arnfast.