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Friday, February 4, 2022

COVID Chronicles XXV: What, No Snow Days?

 COVID, Selye Stress Response Syndrome, Psychology, Psychoanalysis, Strain in the University





It is February of 2022, roughly the second anniversary of our discovery of the COVID-19 virus (and two years since a go round that I had with a very serious cold that knocked me out for the better part of a month – could it have been COVID?).  We are still trudging forward – the omicron strain has been infectious enough that it doesn’t seem to have anyone new to infect.  We continue to mask on campus, though we are all required to be vaccinated and the students do not mask at the basketball games.  Many of them have also quit making use of the on campus health facility because if they are found to have COVID, they are put in quarantine and not allowed to go to class.  To their credit, many of them are self-quarantining until they believe themselves to be safe…

Last weekend I was talking to a colleague from Vienna, and he reports that it is against the law in Austria not to be vaccinated.  To this point, they have not been enforcing the law, but in a month or two they will levy a fine of 600 Euros on anyone who is not vaccinated, perhaps on a monthly basis.  He predicts that, if this occurs, there will be violent rioting in the streets, and I don’t doubt it.  Denmark, meanwhile, has lifted all restrictions.  These two wildly different positions clarify that we simply don’t know whether the pandemic has become an endemic or whether we are creating exactly the right conditions for the virus to become really virulent.  Time will tell.

In the meantime, I am quarantined at home by a blanket of snow.  The University is closed, but classes are being held – sort of.  The mandate from the administration is that classes must be asynchronous.  That means that we are not allowed to hold classes by zoom at the appointed time.  Now you may have had to read that last sentence twice.  It is senseless.  We have been holding zoom classes as a means of surviving the pandemic.  We are not able to get to school, so what are we to do?  In the old days, class would be cancelled, we would adjust the material to be covered and announce the changes at the next class.  But we no longer live in those times.  Nature cannot prevent us from meeting now, we have technology.

So why can’t we use zoom?  The logic here is twisted, so I will try to explain it as best I am able, but I’m not sure I’ve got it.  In an attempt to be responsive to students and faculty who may have other things going on when a snow day occurs (such as caring for children – or going sledding, perhaps, in the case of our undergrads), synchronous classes will not be held.  Instead, on a day when lots of other things may be going on, we are to come up with a new assignment, tape a lecture which can be viewed at anytime, and create a meaningful activity for our students to do.  We should not hold zoom classes because for those students who can’t go to zoom classes because their professors are unable to provide them, they may feel they are not getting what their peers are getting.

There are all kinds of problems with this logic.  The most problematic aspect is that the administration should know what kind of pedagogical engagement should be used for our students at a particular, unpredictable moment in the semester – to know that it is anything but zoom (though implicitly, because others would be jealous, it is likely to be zoom) – and we should be able to create that exact needed asynchronous learning opportunity with no notice while managing the other fallout from a snow day. 

It’s exhausting to complain about this.  How much tone deafness can a faculty that is already beleaguered tolerate?  The irony is that this is the first salvo from a new administration, one that we thought would be friendlier and more supportive than the last (and, at least in their imagination, they appear to be attempting to be just that).  The problem with both administrations is the assumption that college professors need to be told how to teach their classes – that they can’t be trusted to create the best possible experience for their students at a given moment based on the circumstances.  Or, from a more paranoid position, that we won’t object to working on a day that nature has told us to take off because we are so angry about how we are being told to work…

I must admit that I feel some sympathy for people who are trying to exert control after having been out of control for two years.  How did I exert control?  I held two classes by zoom, recorded them, and told the students who did not attend that their assignment was to watch the recording.  I provided both synchronous and asynchronous learning opportunities.  Most importantly, I provided the best possible means of delivering what was needed by those students at this point in the semester in each class. The material in each class was dependent on interactions between the teacher and the students.  Those who couldn’t attend can watch that interaction take place – not as good as being there, but better to see their peers engaging than to be lectured at about something that requires participation.

 Perhaps they will fire me for it.  A peer provided me with the link to a video of a professor’s “welcoming” his students to class where he clarified that he experienced the students he was being forced into the classroom to teach as “virus vectors” and encouraged them to stay home and watch him teach.  After the video went viral, his school fired him – and he had tenure!  Perhaps they will fire those of us who don’t join the great resignation, and they can have all the control, and teaching responsibilities, themselves.


Near the beginning of the pandemic, I referenced Hans Selye’s stress response curve, not as a means of understanding our response to infection by the virus, but as a means of understanding our response to the social consequences of the virus.  I obviously think that is a potentially useful application of that curve, but I am also aware that it is a means of understanding acute stress – the kind of stress that a virus puts on an individual’s system.  Especially as the pandemic has extended, the strain has become chronic, and the effects of that are both more subtle, but I think also, perhaps, more pernicious.  I was talking with a friend about this and wondering if we know what the social consequences will be and he rightly stated that we don’t even know what the impact of this has been on each of us.

In a recent meeting of the faculty as a whole, it was clear that there was great dissatisfaction with the position that we are in.  The administration (as in this post) became a lightning rod for that dissatisfaction.  Members of the benefits committee noted that they had requested that the administration provide N95 masks for faculty to wear in addition to the two fabric masks they provided at the beginning of the pandemic.  The incommensurability of the level of dissatisfaction and the laughably small, but likely unobtainable remediation was a poignantly visible marker of how much work we have to do to recover from the chronic strain of, for instance, managing the fear that we will die by entering the classroom - something that we have then distanced ourselves from, as if that fear wasn't very real - because we did not, in fact, die.

If I were to think catastrophically about this (and one of my nicknames within the family is captain catastrophe), I think that climate change is nature’s desperate attempt to regain equilibrium.  The intense storms that we are seeing are a way of releasing the excess heat that has built up in reaction to the greenhouse effect.  The virus (as if it were a sentient being, and not a barely alive and so small as to be invisible agent) might be trying to rid the planet of the perpetrators of this overheating and habitat destroying monster. 

Even if this is not the case, I do wonder whether it is wise to ignore nature’s call to slow down – take a day off – and go sledding with the kids.  Our continuing to become more and more isolated from the natural world – to stay in our rooms and study harder – promotes further isolation from an awareness of the ways in which we are products and citizens of the environment.  More than that, we have been entrusted to be stewards, and when we emulate university administrators and attempt to exert too much control over that environment rather than recognizing that it has its own rules and methods of managing situations, it appears likely we will pay a very heavy price for our hubris.


  To access a narrative description of other posts on this site, link here.  For a subject based index, link here. 

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For other posts on COVID:
I:       Apocalypse Now  my first posting on COVID-19.
II:      Midnight in Paris  is a jumping off point for more thinking about COVID.  (Also in Movies).
III:    Hans Selye and the Stress Response Syndrome.  COVID becomes more normal... for now.
VI:    Get back in that classroom  Paranoid ruminations.
VII:   Why Shutting Classes Makes Fiscal Sense A weak argument
XIII: Ennui
XIV. Where, Oh Where have my in-person students gone?  Split zoom classes in the age of COVID.
XVIII.    I miss my mask?
IXX.      Bo Burnham's Inside Commentary on the commenter.

    

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