A Reflection on Online Classes

By Cindy Su

Like many other students, I was devastated when Principal Rawson sent out the email canceling on-campus classes for spring term. Along with it, dorm teas, senior traditions, my first crew season and many other precious moments were cancelled. Over the next few days, through Instagram and countless conversations over text, I watched the school and our community slowly gear up for an online school term, something we’d never had to do before. 

I felt that online classes betrayed the entire school pedagogy—Harkness. What was the point of going to a school with a tuition of over $57,000 each year (and rising every year) if the most valuable part of our school was compromised? As much as I wanted to reject this decision, I knew that we could do nothing about it. We had to just move forward. 

I had a few expectations for online classes, mostly formed by TikToks about online classes in Asia and ads on YouTube for the University of Phoenix Online. As I finally logged on for my very first class, however, I was a bit underwhelmed. At that point, I was so desperate for human interaction besides my family that I was overjoyed to see different and familiar faces on my screen. I knew that it wasn’t going to be the same as Harkness, but I did not expect a huge amount of awkwardness. My first online classes completely toppled my dreams of potentially recreating Harkness on the cloud. 

The pauses are almost impossible to ignore during our online “Harkness” conversations, and they seem to happen even more often than usual. It builds a tense, immensely awkward and even uncomfortable environment. Though I’ve only been at this school for two terms, I’ve felt the unspoken magic and understanding we build around a real, wooden Harkness table. At that table, you can read the body language of your classmates, and you can feel who will speak next. It flows, and that’s why students can be so involved at the table, enveloped in the class and learning. 

Unfortunately, that magic doesn’t transfer onto screens. That leaves students unengaged and teachers confused. All this goes without mentioning that it’s way easier to open a Facebook tab than it is to goof off during a raging English discussion on campus.

The conversations also seem far more shallow. People are scared to participate without the comfort of a group around them. My friend’s English class stayed silent for more than 10 minutes after their teacher asked a question, tried to encourage them to talk and eventually got frustrated. Though the story was somewhat funny (by virtue of how different it was from a normal class), I empathize with that teacher and many instructors who are going through the same thing. 

When everything was in person, the teacher could quickly gauge the room’s response and make a decision based on what they saw, but, now that many teachers aren’t prepared to navigate through an online classroom—much less read each student’s reaction—they depend more heavily on vocal cues. It’s uncomfortable for everybody, but, sometimes, students simply just don’t know what to say. 

“Do people want to move into breakout rooms?” 

We don’t know. No one seems to know. There is a risk that comes with unmuting myself to say something quick. Do I really want to risk the possibility of being judged? 

Having to actually unmute yourself to talk makes this pressure even more real for many—they have to consciously choose to talk, instead of just blurting things out. And the thing is—all my classmates probably aren’t thinking about me. They’re just staring intently into a screen, quietly and blankly. Some teachers have gotten to the point of just avoiding this entirely and choosing not to synchronously meet at all. 

Obviously, synchronous learning is not a perfect solution, especially since our school has international students located all around the globe. Their day is the East Coast’s night, and I was surprised to see my friend from Hong Kong checking in for an optional 3 p.m. (for her, 3 a.m.) physics class. I realized later that it was a prime example of exactly how dedicated and driven Exonians are. She’s making a sacrifice. 

To this end, I really do need to mention: if teachers choose not to be online for any given day, they need to be responsible and post the work required for the class early with clear instructions. That being said, teachers are learning too. 

So yes, I was underwhelmed. But we’re all navigating and adjusting to an unfamiliar system. We need to be considerate and allow for mistakes. 

Zoom meetings themselves are not all that bad though, and, through call after call, I’ve grown to like and appreciate the system. Sometimes it’s hard to manage the feeling that you’re having a face to face conversation with 12 people at once, but, overall, it’s been way better than sitting in quarantine all alone. 

I’m glad students are still staying connected with each other, both in and outside of class. So many stifled laughs and funny text messages have been shared, and they make online classes all the better. Of course, Exonians have always managed to take advantage of the situation, using Zoom to the fullest potential. Some of my favorite moments during online classes are seeing teachers’ and students’ fun profile pictures, from cute hedgehogs to flattering pictures with coconut drinks. I’ve even heard of a student who played three episodes of The Office as their virtual background during class.

Though our country and community are moving forward with quarantine and social distancing, I can’t help but mourn for all the times we missed. I know there’s no way to give this time back to all the seniors I didn’t hug tighter, but if we can move forward, we’ll all be closer and more prepared as a school in the future. Right now, we just need to seize our situation and make the best of it, finishing this school year off in the classic Phillips Exeter style.