I identified so much with his analogy of being in the midst of a storm on the open sea that I sent him this response:
Thank you so much for this. You have no idea, or perhaps you do, how much I needed to hear/read this today. I, too, have questioned a big decision that I recently made, the decision to teach WRTG 110 even though it would be 100% online.My husband and I moved to the road system, Sutton, just about a year ago from Unalakleet. More specifically, we lived 8 miles up the Unalakleet River from the village in an offgrid, 400sf cabin that he built 25 years ago. We were the only people who lived on the river year-round, but at 63 (him) and 52 (me), it was time to stop hauling water and climbing the side of a mountain to get to the outhouse. Actually, the social isolation had become more than I could bear, yearning for a life of book clubs, time with grandkids, and having guests over for dinner, I was even looking forward to teaching in a classroom again. I had been teaching online for UAF's Bristol Bay Campus for two years at that point. You read that right - when I cranked up our small, portable generator, I could get perfect internet capabilities in the middle of nowhere.
When January came, and our feet were firmly planted in Sutton, the idea of teaching at Mat-Su College was like a dream come true. Teaching WRTG 090 and 110 in the classroom that semester felt good, and being able to have that face-to-face connection with students was just what I needed. Then, Spring Break came. And went. Along with it went my face-to-face classes. Thankfully, having a background in online teaching helped the students and me to muddle through the rest of the semester.
Disheartened but determined when UA announced that the fall semester would be online, I signed the contract to teach WRTG 110. When 22 students initially registered, I was surprised. I asked all students to email a brief blurb to me describing their personal situation, why they were taking the class, etc., as I always do with online classes. When I read that my students were scattered from Anchorage to Qatar and most with little or no college or online class experience, I could see the storm coming and I was headed directly into the open seas.
Knowing that there would be no protected areas to shelter me from this storm, I steadied myself and set my course. I began to teach technology in tandem with writing. I was tasked with teaching students about rubrics, Blackboard, Zoom, Youtube, subtitles, Google docs, and... the waves just kept rolling in. Gone were the sunny days of class discussions about the assigned readings and raised hands with questions that others had and I could answer in 10 seconds. Feeling rudderless, I continued on.
In addition to now grading 20 discussion posts and replies every week (thankfully, 2 students dropped the class), there were now 20 grammar assignments to grade, because we couldn't simply go over the lesson together in class where I could gauge their understanding. Next, came the 20 reading quizzes to grade every week, because I could not simply take 3 minutes to walk around the room and look at their work or engage in a class discussion. Then came the 20 weekly exercises that needed to be graded, which would have taken the form of small group discussions in the classroom. Finally, the 20 essays come in which are often turned in off-topic because the students don't want to "bother" me with an email.
I have to believe that if the class hadn't been wide open for any UAA student to take, I would have had more control over the wind. My Spring Semester classroom had 13 students and a lot less grading. The very nature of online teaching requires more time. In addition, more students equates to even more time.
This morning, I woke to 72 assignments waiting to be graded in Blackboard from that one, single class.
Could I assign less work? Yes, but that would mean that students don't learn as much. I've already reduced the number of essays for the course. I love to teach writing, and I'm very good at it. However, stacking my class to capacity with students from all over, outside the Mat-Su area, some of whom have never taken a college course or been out of school for over a decade, most of whom have a very minimal understanding of online technology, leaves me with very little room to actually teach writing. Most days, like today, I feel like I will surely drown.
To pay an adjunct for 7 1/2 hours of work each week for a 3-credit class when there has been such a drastic change in course is akin to paying a fisherman for only those times when he's actually taking a fish off the hook.
I will continue to alter the course this semester to keep both my students and myself from going under. However, the experience has persuaded me to withdraw my name from the adjunct faculty pool, and head for safe harbor, for next semester and until we go back to in-person teaching.
