BY OGNJEN Š. MILJANIĆ

The start of vaccinations against COVID-19 has brought hope that the pandemic’s end is near. Over the coming months, as things return to normal, many of the changes brought about by the pandemic will be reversed. I will be glad to see my kids return to their physical school, which will make them happier and more engaged and me more productive in my job. The college professor in me, however, thinks that online education at the university level should continue in the postpandemic world.

The past year saw dramatic improvements in online university education. Before 2020, online courses were often incoherent collections of PDFs and hyperlinks, their reputation sullied by associations with low-quality, for-profit online outfits. Then COVID-19 struck. In just a few months, world experts in every discipline deployed millions of hours of new material online. Professors who “cruised” through their classes were prompted to rethink, upgrade, and deliver them in a new format. Moved online, university education became more resilient, too. In late August 2020, as Hurricane Laura developed in the Gulf of Mexico, University of Houston, where I teach and which had reopened its campus for the fall semester with limited in-person course offerings, moved all education online again until the danger passed; in the past, such fears would have prompted cancellation of classes. Teleconferencing allowed us to bring in diverse guest speakers from around the world. A colleague teaching on Afghanistan “Zoomed in” speakers from Kabul; her students have never spoken to anyone based there.

Significantly improved during the pandemic, online education offers a way to target the rising costs of US higher education, which lower its accessibility and threaten its role as a social equalizer. Past decades witnessed “resortification” of universities: the cost of attendance rapidly increased as attractive sports offerings and upgrades to student housing and dining options were tacked on to the core educational experience. The pandemic-prompted shift to online learning quickly reversed this trend: education was still delivered (with some manageable hiccups), but football games and dorm-room camaraderie were placed on hold. Since education and campus life can be decoupled, perhaps they should be offered separately to students—with different price tags for in-person and online coursework. Alumni already have similar arrangements with their alma maters: they purchase select benefits of campus life, such as parking or gym access, but not education. Some students would certainly choose to receive only education, mostly delivered online, without enjoying—or having to pay for—the associated amenities. They should be offered that option.

Such an á la carte model would have benefits that go beyond the economic ones. Taking a summer course online and transferring credit could become more common, increasing the visibility of good lecturers. Physically disabled students and those living far from campus would benefit from increased accessibility. Pollution and congestion would drop, and productivity would increase, as thousands of commuting hours are eliminated. Faculty members traveling for fieldwork, government panels, or seminars would no longer need to cancel class—they could deliver it remotely.

There is significant opposition to the expansion of online courses. Much has been invested in resort-style universities, and recovering those costs is important to university administrators and politicians—who also cherish new buildings and sold-out sport events. Some faculty members contend that their subjects cannot be taught adequately online. University campuses are fun and dynamic social hubs where lifelong friendships, romances, and professional relationships start—as portrayed in numerous coming-of-age movies set on college campuses.

All these are valid arguments, and the wholesale rejection of the resort-style university is unlikely. However, a complete return to on-campus instruction would be anachronistic. The romanticized campus experience tends to saddle graduates with debt that is measured in trillions of dollars nationwide. Some disciplines are indeed harder to teach online—but probably far fewer than claimed. Creative initiatives such as Imperial College’s mail-in kits for general chemistry suggest that even experimental topics could be taught remotely. Finally, many of young adults’ social interactions have moved online, and university offices charged with the quality of student life could innovate in that arena too.

Online education certainly faces objective challenges. Cheating is a big one: proctoring large classes online is virtually impossible. The AI-enabled “lockdown browsers” use a webcam and an algorithm to spot suspicious activities but are intrusive and plagued by false positives and negatives. However, security will improve—much like it did with online payments—once tech companies realize there is money to be made in developing hardware and software to curtail cheating. Another problem is the spotty availability of high-speed Internet, which disadvantages students in rural and poor urban environments. This problem, caused by the local monopolies in the Internet service provider market, could be solved by local and state governments providing infrastructural carrots and regulatory sticks.

The days of affordable universities are long gone: 2020 marked fifty years since tuition at the University of California stopped being free for state residents. Today, poor, minority, and immigrant students work long hours to afford college. For them, high-quality online education will save time, lower costs, and expand opportunities. Dismissing it would be an unfair mistake.

Guest blogger Ognjen Š. Miljanić is professor at the University of Houston and a Cottrell Scholar of the Research Corporation for Science Advancement.