I’m Going to Miss Zoom University
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The first time a teacher cared about my mental well-being was in a virtual setting. I fear how things will change when classes go back in person.
“Beep Beep Beep Beep”my phone rings. It’s 8:00am. I have my first-year-honors seminar in 30 minutes, and this is the fifth time I’ve hit snooze. I set it for 7am, but 5 hours of sleep won’t prepare me to hop out of bed at 7am.
I reset it for 8:20am and roll out of bed just in time to freshen up, click the Zoom link, and lounge back in bed before 8:30am. Despite wearing pajamas, barely brushing my hair or my teeth, I’m the only student in the class that bothered to show their face on camera today.
I was a first year college student during the 2020–2021 school year and despite living on campus, my experience was almost fully remote. Three out of my four classes were taught online. There are students whose faces and voices I can’t recall because they never showed their face on camera.
Of course there were challenges to navigating my first year of college on the internet. For example, the time my laptop broke down right before I was to give a presentation, so I ran down three flights of stairs to my friend’s room and borrowed hers… and still had to present first. I still got an A-.
In high school, they us warned against spending 12 hours looking at bright screens because it can cause insomnia and depression. At Zoom University, no less than 20 hours will ensure at least a B+ in all your classes. Beside the virus, college anxieties, and family worries, the headaches I acquired kept me up until 2:30am every night or later.
Still, by Spring semester I was breaking. One night, I emailed my professor the following:
I normally would not ask for this consideration but something unexpected happened that prevented me from finishing the chapter 8 homework on time and getting a proper grading on it.
I was experiencing anxiety on the verge of a panic attack after a traumatic family event was revisited that week. It set me off a few hours, which is about exactly what I needed to finish the assignment.
The professor responded saying that “something unexpected” did not rise to the level of an extension. He said I needed to tell him what the unexpected thing was. F*** him.
After I told him I wouldn’t offer details into my situation because it was unfair of him to ask, he continued to deny me an extension. A few minutes later he replied again with the following response:
Please know that many students have experienced serious interruptions to their lives and their academic progress due to complications from the pandemic. When I learn of these problems, I’m happy to accommodate with extensions. I can’t help if I don’t know the root of the problem, so it is beyond “fair” of me to ask.
I understood my professor was trying to be fair to the rest of the class by making sure I hadn’t just lied about my circumstances, but as I read over his response, I felt angry.
“Please know that many students have experienced serious interruptions to their lives…pandemic.”
This was the first time a teacher was showing concern for my mental well-being, but instead of feeling relieved, I felt misunderstood. My true feelings were being undermined by a pandemic.
In high school, there were nights when I simply could not finish my assignments because of family discourse, extreme anxiety, depression, or just poor scheduling — too many assignments loaded on top of another. When this happened, I emailed my teacher, or talked to them the following day. The answer was either “no” or “yes, but I will have to take a few points off.” Then I spent the next few hours shaming myself for not being more responsible.
After I told my professor about my resurfaced family trauma with no detail, he kindly granted me an extension without penalty.
But I couldn’t help but wonder if there weren’t a pandemic, would he have given me that opportunity at all.
My professor assumed my “complication” was related to the pandemic when I and so many students have been struggling to be flawless and extension-free for decades. We chug down large cups of coffee, stay up until our eyes turn red, let our rooms get messy, and cancel plans with our best friends to ensure we never even have to ask for extensions.
On my first day of Zoom University, all of my professors made a general statement that if we began to fall behind because of the pandemic not to hesitate to reach out. Some professors even included pandemic/mental health statements on their syllabi. During the presidential election, my honors professor let us out of class early so we could take care of ourselves.
It’s a shame that it took a pandemic for us to realize that the culture where every student must reach perfection is unhealthy.
Mental health wasn’t started by the pandemic. It’s always been here and good education plays a huge role in good mental health.
I’m going to miss Zoom University. I won’t miss it for the insomnia, or the isolation from my professors and friends. I will miss it because I fear once the pandemic is officially over, no one will care to check in on one another’s mental health. When virtual school is closed, most professors will see no reason to grant their students extensions, give them a makeup quiz, or be generous and decide not to penalize them for being late to class.
Students should be able to take breaks and extensions without penalties. No, not every week, but every once in a while. School is a place where people should feel relaxed, safe, and understood. If deadlines are getting in the way of that, they need to be pushed back.
We may be going back to in-person learning, but teachers still need to give their students some space to breathe.
