Restarting the oddest semester

Today is the last day of our two-week Spring Break at Marist College. Unlike our neighbors over at Vassar College, where two-week spring breaks are the norm, to my knowledge this was the first-ever Spring Break that lasted two weeks here at Marist. In some regards, it has felt like two years. In others, it has felt like two minutes. Think back to where we were just a few weeks ago. There were still folks – a lot of people, smart people, many of whom I know and respect – who were wondering what the big deal was with this virus. A little worse than the flu. It’ll pass. We can still go about like business as usual. Aren’t we overreacting? I didn’t have a strong opinion either way. I’m not the smartest guy. Remember? I’m the moron holding the stopwatch over here. When I’m not sure about something, which is most of the time, I simply admit: “I don’t know.” But my feeling back then was: I’m not sure but … hey, this seems pretty serious. If we look back and say we were overreacting, we can laugh and remember the minor inconvenience. Well, we weren’t overreacting. Each day, each news story, each update, makes this very, very clear. The trajectory of this thing has given new weight to each passing day; this is what makes two weeks seem like two years. But by the same token, the sameness of the lack of normal routine and activities allows one day to blur into the next. As I posted the other day, it’s sometimes difficult to recall what day of the week it is. There’s a bizarre sameness to the days when your options are narrowed to … well, basically, not all that much.

So yeah. “Classes” – such as they are – resume on Monday. Everybody’s stressed out about it. Everybody. Professors, students, parents, administrators. What’s this online world of distance learning gonna BE like? Well, I can give you my narrow perspective. I’m teaching Public Presentations (COMM-101) this semester. You know. Public speaking. Get up in front of the class, get over your nerves, and talk. It’s not rocket science. Remember, the idiot with the stopwatch up in front of the class? He’s the professor. How do you translate public speaking into a distance learning format? Short answer: You don’t. Long answer: You adapt. Again, this is COMM-101. We’re not dissecting animals, going over complex economic theories, designing the next great fashions. We’re telling stories. So, my class will watch some hand-picked TED talks, and write papers analyzing them. We will do assignments and taken quizzes based on my class “textbook,” an awesome book called “How To Break Up With Your Phone,” by Catherine Price (I highly recommend it; I read it on the flight down to Orlando for the convention last December and it’s a game-changer). And yes, we’ll have a “final exam” presentation talk that they’ll have to do on their phones and send to me. No rocket science. We’ll muddle through the next six weeks together, via email and iLearn. We’ll figure it out.

This is the message I would like to convey to other professors and their students: Relax. Think differently. Be willing to adapt and conform. Chill out! This is going to be different because it IS different! There’s no roadmap here. Unless you are Bill Gates or an incredibly intelligent epidemiologist who has dedicated your life to pandemics and infectious diseases, no one could be expected to prepare for this, any of this. There’s no playbook here. And now that we are forming one, let’s hope to God we don’t need to USE it again in the future. Figure it out. Wash your hands and take care of yourselves and your loved ones. And again, hope to God that we look back on the Spring 2020 semester and say, “geez, glad THAT only happened one time.”