In 2020, as our lives moved to Zoom, debate over whether online learning for university students would be here to stay began. Two years on, and we still have no clear answer.
Last week, the University of Sydney announced that from semester 2, 2023, subjects will not be offered remotely, and classes will revert to pre-pandemic modes of teaching. The message is clear: come back to campus.
I went to university before Covid existed but I will happily admit to watching some lectures on double speed during my degree. One particular professor in my second year spoke so slowly that I could either attend in person for two hours, or watch the recording sped up in one hour. At lunchtime on a Friday, it was not a hard choice.
But for better or worse, overall my time as a student required my presence – week in and week out.
In August, a tweet by a University of Sydney professor stirred debate about online learning, with comments suggesting that dwindling in-person numbers could easily become a catch-22; if you are the only one that shows up for a lecture, you’ll be less inclined to make the effort next time.
Should I be shocked again? 1pm lecture - no one! I lectured empty chairs. 10 min in a student that was early for 2pm lecture showed up (completely unrelated subject different degree). We had a great discussion and I had one keen student learning. Where from now? Help @Sydney_Uni pic.twitter.com/EqsiYntzbo
— Prof Jan Slapeta (@JanSlapeta) August 29, 2022
Having had no classes wholly online during my degree, I can’t help but feel that uni should be something that students predominantly experience in person.
Studying at the University of New South Wales, where most lectures were recorded – should you need to watch them back – attendance was marked on the day. You were expected to be there.
One professor’s decision to not record her lectures and to bar laptops from the classroom, insisting that notes be written by hand, was met with some consternation. But her strategy worked: if you wanted to pass, you had to show up every week, engage and frantically scribble down your notes. It was one of the best subjects I took.
Tutorials were always in person. One, a three-hour long political-communication class in third year, taught by a well-loved professor, was at first terrifyingly interactive, but soon everyone rose to the occasion and thrived on his passion.
We’re living in the digital age, and even well before 2020 we found many ways to get to know one another online; developing rich student-teacher relationships this way is by no means impossible.
But there is no substitute for establishing pre- and post-class routines with your peers, workshopping essays together between lectures and being immersed in what it means to be a student. It is time you never get back.
Early studies suggested that there was a preference for online learning. But the reluctance of some students to turn on their cameras and speak up from behind the screen indicates that the transition away from online learning will be just that – a transition. Reverting to the pre-pandemic way of life is like a sticky key on your computer; it might take a few tries before the dust underneath clears and it works again.
Lockdown forced us to adapt and gave us the opportunity to fit in extra time with family, friends, side hustles and walks with the dog. We can’t forget the freedoms that flexibility did, and can still, give us.
A decision to deny students flexibility altogether would undoubtedly draw controversy, particularly given the opportunity that online learning offers international students, those with hours-long commutes to campus, immunocompromised students or those with a disability.
But otherwise, I’m not sure that study should be entirely squeezed in around everything else, instead of taking the front row seat. Once a semester, you are bound to have a stale lecturer that only reads off the slides – but you’ll also have one that drives you forward. You will find yourself without your friends in a group project, but it might bring you together with people you might never have met otherwise. You will have a teacher who calls on you to speak up and participate to get your attendance marks. You’ll also find (slightly) cheaper on-campus cafes and bars at your disposal.
All this and more is what being a uni student is all about. It is what many mourned when lockdowns forced classes online.
Uni can be hard. It is a coming of age. It is a lesson in how to manage competing priorities; multiple subjects, multiple jobs, trying to socialise and network. It is also expensive, with Hecs debt becoming more and more of a burden for young people.
The lecture chairs with their swivel desks may not as appealing as your couch, but every uni student should experience the adrenaline rush of running from one end of campus to the other to get to back-to-back classes. And you can only do that in person.
• Maddie Thomas is editorial assistant at Guardian Australia
