To Teach, or Not to Teach, This Fall?
By: Flannery Wilson
Tags: Online Learning, Higher Education, University, Covid 19, Pedagogy

No one should have to choose between staying healthy and having a job.

No matter who you are, you shouldn’t have to decide between your livelihood and your life. This is the unfortunate choice that most essential workers must face every single day.

Now, many of us who teach in higher education are being faced with the same choice.

One of my close friends was recently hired as a Visiting Assistant Professor at a private college in the South. When she told me the news, I congratulated her. I even (admittedly) felt a pang of envy.

After graduate school, like so many others, we spent years applying for opportunities in the hopes of landing a job in academia that would actually pay the bills. Being an adjunct just wasn’t cutting it.

With this opportunity, she was finally being given the chance to start a new career at a great school.

But now, after a couple of weeks of reading the news and watching as the COVID crisis worsens across the country, my friend’s happiness has turned into something else. Fear.

She doesn’t feel safe returning to the classroom in the midst of this pandemic.

The college that hired her plans on moving forward with in-person instruction. Worse, the professors on the committee that hired her are not planning on being in their classrooms this semester. But they expect her to be.

The only way that she could conceivably get out of this situation is by lying about her medical history. At this particular school, in order to be eligible to teach remotely, you must prove that you have a major underlying health issue such as diabetes or heart disease.

She is a healthy 35 year old female. She cannot do that unless she lies, gets a doctor to lie for her, or commits fraud.

None of those choices sound like viable options.

In an effort to be proactive, she wrote an email to her chair and dean requesting permission to teach remotely. Her argument was compelling.

College students need to learn to think critically when using technology; this is a skill that they will continue to need as they graduate and enter into the workforce. What is the purpose of a college education if not to prepare students for the future?

She never sent that email because she worried — justifiably — that they might rescind her offer.

As I considered her conundrum, I started thinking about my own classes. I teach French, and like many other foreign language teachers, I rely on a textbook. That textbook costs about $200 and is available entirely online. Students can look at the book on their laptops while sitting in class. They complete homework exercises online, which are automatically graded. They are given immediate feedback.

When I conducted my classes online this past spring, we met through Zoom two days a week for two hours. I was able to call on students in the same way that I would in a normal classroom. They completed their weekly compositions by posting on our class blog.

What, I wondered, was the purpose of the in-person classroom setting when everything could be done just as well online?

I suppose there is something sad about the idea of losing the camaraderie of the live classroom, the sparkles that you see in everyone’s eyes as they are engaged and focused.

But what about the muttering, the side comments, the whispers in the corner of the classroom when no one should be talking…I certainly didn’t miss those things when I was teaching online.

As it turns out, I am now in the same predicament as my friend.

I must decide whether or not I am willing to begin a new career in a new town, a new school, a new state, with the knowledge that I might be infected with COVID if I decide to teach in-person classes.

If I don’t take the job, I might not be offered a full-time position again for a while. Is it worth it for me to take the risk?

I can’t help but wonder why so many K-12 school districts are choosing to remain closed for safety reasons, and yet so many colleges and universities insist on plowing ahead. Not being a college administrator, I can only assume that colleges need tuition money, so they must populate their classrooms with students in order to stay afloat.

I also can’t help thinking that most college reopening plans seem unrealistic. Are we really supposed to believe that plexiglass and masks are going to protect us from an illness that remains airborne for at least half an hour in indoor settings? Are we really supposed to believe that college students aren’t partying and co-mingling when they aren’t on campus? The idea is preposterous.

If even one of my students unwittingly contracts the virus, then all of us in that classroom are at risk. Myself, being older than all of my students, am most at risk.

My friend and I only have a limited amount of time to make up our minds. We must make a choice either way.

But this isn’t just about us. These are issues that affect all of us.

This month, The Humanities in Transition wants to hear from you. We want to hear what you are going through and we want to know what you ultimately decide.

Are you currently being faced with similar conundrums? What are you doing about it? Will you accept the risks or will you stand up for your right not to endanger yourself on the job?

Further questions abound.

Why do we keep insisting that in-person courses are preferable to online courses? What are the justifications?

More broadly, how will higher education change as a result of this crisis?

These are questions that we cannot just ignore. The pressure is growing day by day. Meanwhile, the pandemic worsens.