Like most universities in the United States, the one where I’m a professor shut down classes in mid-March of this year. Initially, the plan was to extend Spring Break for one additional week; after that, we planned to remain online for two weeks before resuming normal operations.
“Normal” never returned, of course. I’m not sure it ever will.
Nevertheless, we’re now on the verge of a fall semester that won’t be like any other of my 34-year career in higher education. Some of the classes at my university will be offered completely online. Others will be a blend of in-person and online meetings. Still others will be fully in-person–but not like the “normal” classes of semesters past. Everyone will be wearing masks and sitting six feet apart. Large lecture-style classes will be broken into smaller groups that will attend in-person in shifts. And, naturally, there will be no attendance policies.
All these changes–not just at my university, but every university–have led students and their parents to argue that the cost of college tuition needs to be reduced.* If they aren’t getting the same experience they did in a “normal” year, the argument goes, they shouldn’t have to pay the same amount. And on the surface, that argument appears to make sense. But only if you don’t think about all the things that haven’t changed, as well as the additional expenses universities have taken on to adapt to the reality of a pandemic.
What hasn’t changed? Faculty members still have to be paid a salary–which, by the way, very likely hasn’t changed at all in the last five years or so. Teaching loads have not decreased. In fact, teaching loads for most faculty members have increased, because they’ve had to learn entirely new ways of teaching–and then had to learn how to do them effectively. Using Zoom and using it well are two very different things. You know this if you’ve ever had to endure a chaotic Zoom meeting.
Maintenance costs for university grounds also haven’t changed. The physical space still needs to look appealing because universities are still recruiting new students, just as they always do. That’s a really difficult job right now, because we’re trying to convince people that life will go back to normal–while wearing masks and asking people to stand six feet apart. The physical space really has to sell itself as a safe place where you’d like to be someday.
Okay, you concede. Some things haven’t changed, but many things have. Why should I have to pay for a fitness center if it’s not being used? That’s a fair question. But among the many things that have changed is the way the universities operate in this time of pandemic.
Classrooms that didn’t have cameras equipped to broadcast and record Zoom classes (which is to say, most classrooms) now have them. They also have other new equipment–like microphones, to help online students hear what’s being said, and tablet computers that replace overhead projectors, so online students can see what would be projected at the front of a physical classroom. The university may also have expanded its online course management system–the interface a student uses for online classes–and, therefore, paid higher licensing fees. Or the university may be upgrading to a better, more expensive course management system, to make online learning easier.
And then there’s the cost of gallons and gallons of hand sanitizer. Plus additional cleaning supplies, since classrooms now have to be thoroughly disinfected every day. Plus disposable masks, in case a student forgets to bring one to campus (or “forgets,” or drops their mask in a puddle while walking to class, etc.) Plus signage directing students one way through the halls of our classroom buildings, to help maintain social distancing protocols. The list goes on, but you get the idea.
In many cases–though not all, certainly–these additional expenses have not been passed down to students via an increase in tuition. And yet, when the fitness center is declared safe to use again, it will be there to use.
I’ll be very happy when we reach whatever new version of normal is waiting for us in the distant future. I’ll be the first to admit that online teaching isn’t as much fun or as satisfying as meeting with students in person. But if online education is, as some claim, so inferior to “the real thing,” then why have most universities offered a mix of online and traditional classes every semester for years? Why do those same universities belong to learning consortia that allow students to take classes offered at other universities via online platforms like Zoom? Why do universities accept transfer credit for courses taken online?
If we’re being honest, we have to admit that the quality of any course–online or in person–depends on many variables. Certainly it depends on whether the professor is prepared, organized, and invested. But it also depends on whether students are willing to learn. Not every student who attends in-person classes pays attention (or even stays awake) for a full hour. In either format, both students and professors have to make the choice to engage with the process of learning.
Online classes aren’t for everyone, but it’s just too simple to blame that format for outcomes we don’t like. As we all continue to figure out how to live through this moment in history, I hope we’ll be open to learning whatever it has to teach us. I have a feeling that knowledge will be useful in the evolving normal–whatever that future looks like.
* Whether college tuition in the United States is too high, and whether a university education should be provided free to any student in this country who wants that education, are separate issues that I will not be taking up here. These are matters of social policy that need to be addressed at a federal level.
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