BY SUSAN E. MASON
May 11, 2023, marked the end of the federal COVID-19 public health emergency declaration. COVID-19 is not gone, to be sure, but we now have a better understanding of the severity and spread of the virus, how to protect ourselves, and how to protect our students. We were all in the dark in March 2020, when COVID-19 hit the United States. Spring breaks were extended and then extended again. Those of us who had not taught online previously took crash courses on the capabilities of our course management systems, how to develop and post materials, and how to schedule Zoom meetings. It all seems routine now, but it was far from routine then.
Everything changed. The syllabus, which we consider to be our contract with the students, was modified beyond recognition. Attendance requirements, assignments, tests, and even our grading systems were modified. We made it through that semester and then spent the summer developing contingency plans. At first, we didn’t know if we would be back in the classroom, continue online, or have another split semester—partially on campus and partially remote. Of course, the students were anxious too, and it was our responsibility to help them deal with the uncertainty. All of our training and experience prepared us for academic pursuits: teaching, scholarship and service. We were prepared to guide our students academically, but as COVID-19 continued to threaten campuses, health and safety issues became our primary concerns.
In the fall 2020 term, some colleges and universities reopened their campuses only to close again in a week or two. We wondered whether our own students would respect the guidelines regarding vaccinations, social distancing, and masking. If they didn’t comply, would there be an outbreak with more lockdowns or another closure? We crossed our fingers and hoped for a smooth ride through Thanksgiving, but nothing was smooth about the 2020–2021 academic year. Uncertainty about the virus and the challenge of rapidly increasing reliance on technology made it difficult to think much beyond the next day, let alone make long-term plans.
We worked to meet our current students’ academic needs, as well as their physical and mental health needs, while also working to recruit the next class. We were concerned about our physical and mental health needs and those of our colleagues, as well. Working conditions were challenging, to say the least, and achieving a work-life balance seemed impossible. It was extremely disappointing when the second COVID-19 spring came and the traditional campus events were again postponed, modified, or cancelled. Online finals, remote senior week activities, and Zoom commencement ceremonies were far from ideal, but we did what we could to provide students with some sense of community.
At the start of the 2021–2022 academic year, we were still facing uncertainty. The delta variant, and then the omicron variant, dashed hopes of a return to normal. Nevertheless, students and faculty wanted to be on campus, so all sectors worked together to keep the community safe while providing high-quality coursework, laboratory work, and field experiences, not to mention the extracurricular activities that are such an important part of the college experience.
The 2022–2023 academic year was another COVID-19 year, but nothing like the others. Things felt more normal. We felt safer and more productive. The students who graduated in May 2023 were first-year students when COVID-19 hit. Their memories of campus life are very different from the memories of the classes that came before them or those that will come after. Hopefully, there were good times among the bad, strong friendships that developed from shared experiences, and valuable life lessons learned about uncertainty, flexibility, and resiliency.
Here we are in the first semester of a new academic year—the first academic year since the public health emergency was declared over. Some pandemic-related changes, such as increased remote work and greater reliance on technology, are likely here to stay. Other changes, such as daily mask-wearing and restrictions on social activities, are thankfully all but gone. As I prepared for this academic year, I reflected on the COVID-19 years and considered what pandemic-era changes in my own teaching, scholarship and service were worth continuing. I focused on three areas: interactions with students, use of technology, and preparedness.
After everything the students have been through, I think it is more important than ever that I show them understanding, empathy, and flexibility. I am now more likely to reach out to students who have missed a class or an assignment. More often than not, I find that the negligent student is struggling and needs assistance but lacks the confidence to ask for help.
I now see video conferencing as an acceptable, though less desirable, alternative to face-to-face meetings. When illness or distance prevent individuals from getting together in person, a Zoom meeting may be the best option. However, I find Zoom meetings to be impersonal and less effective, especially when working with students.
Perhaps the greatest lesson I learned from the COVID-19 years is to expect the unexpected. Now when I prepare course materials, research projects, and service activities, I imagine possible disruptions, large and small, and I make contingency plans. Though I hope those plans will not be needed, if they are, I am ready.
Susan E. Mason is professor of psychology at Niagara University.
The Covid pause, though full of uncertainties, clearly provided continuing faculty with a chance to reevaluate and experiment with pedagogical practices and materials. The point of view of part-time and other contingent faculty might be different in a number of important ways.