I read an article in the Journal of Higher Education today (Pettit, "A Side Effect of the Covid-19 Pandemic?
Reading Got a Lot Harder", 2020) and realized that I’m not alone in my
distracted procrastination. A professor of history from University of
Connecticut was interviewed about his experience and he aptly called this the “Nailed It semester”! Of course this is a reference to the Netflix
show where people try to replicate a baking masterpiece and ultimately fail
(Pettit, 2020). I, for one, love
scrolling through the “fails” and belly laughing at disastrous creations that
began with such hope and confidence while smugly thinking to myself that I
would never do anything that bad.
Scroll ahead to March, 2020. On March 13th (seriously, Friday
the 13th?) faculty learned our students would not be returning after
Spring Break and we would move our classes online. Being someone that smugly relies on my
confidence in certain matters, I didn’t fret.
“I’ve taught online classes before” I told myself; “I’ve built online courses
in Blackboard” I thought reassuringly; and “I’m fairly proficient in Zoom and other
technology” I reminded myself. Bottom
line, this is all true, and as it turned out none of that really challenged me. But something else did.
Myers Briggs tells me I’m an ENFP –
Extraverted, Intuitive, Feeling, Perceiving.
While I’m not one to totally buy
into personality tests, in this environment of isolation and social distancing
I’ve learned that the “E” I’ve always thought was the weakest part of my Myers
Brigg designation has turned out to be more accurate than previously thought. I
thrive and re-energize when I’m around people!
Spending up to 5 hours a day on Zoom just doesn’t do it. It’s like tuning into a really bad episode of
The Office where the off-colored jokes of Michael Scott are no longer bumbled
at inopportune times, and Pam and Jim have forgotten how to play pranks on
Dwight. I just sit at my desk, all
alone, watching the faces of my colleagues and/or students in a box mute and
unmute themselves while I critically examine the paleness of my wrinkled skin
and the frizz of my hair that surely wasn’t there when I looked in the mirror
earlier that day.
All of this is exhausting and is taking
a toll on how fully engaged I can be in teaching, making learning fun, finding creative
solutions, and being a supportive teacher.
Like other faculty interviewed in the Journal of Higher Education
article, I have found it hard to read and process content (Pettit, 2020). Yesterday I was reviewing a chapter in a text
book as preparation for class and in doing so the phrase “is this font smaller
than it used to be?” circled and re-circled in my mind. It was so distracting, not to mention
annoying! After checking that my glasses
didn’t need to be cleaned, I closed the book and decided the best thing to do
is wing it and rely on my intuition (thank you Myers Briggs for the “intuitive”
designation) and past experience teaching this section. After all, I told myself, if I’m feeling this
way what are the chances that the students are feeling the same thing? If I were a betting person, I’d bank on that!
Truthfully, there have been some
amazing classes where students were fully engaged, conversations flowed,
learning occurred, and I got my extravert energy restored. There have also been moments, and dare I say
whole classes, that the Netflix producers would have some great content for the
special higher education Nailed It episode.
Maybe I’m being too hard on myself and this
is grief rearing its head as I long for the for in-person connection of my
students and colleagues. The spontaneous
visits from students that keep me afloat, the classroom energy of “aha”
moments, and brainstorming that results in amazing projects are what I miss the
most. I’d much rather be nailing it in
the true sense of the phrase than anticipating when I will need a nap.
