Me in April 2020: So, how’ve online classes been for you?
My younger son who’s a sophomore in college: uh…. My online lectures ALL sucked so I withdrew from Spring Quarter… but don’t worry, it was before the deadline.
Me:
What’s a mother who’s teaching online supposed to say she discovers her own son has withdrawn from his Spring quarter without talking to her first? My older son, rushing to intervene in my molten matriarchal moment, defended his little brother. Some lectures were that bad. But, he also ventured, his online courses relieved a lot of stress. In fact, he feels more motivated now attending courses away from the highly competitive environment of his STEM PhD program.
After I calmed down, I told my older son get to back to work and insisted the younger
take SOME course (he quickly remembered some of the common limitations of all online courses)
learn SOME life skills (besides skating and guitar-playing)
earn money working (hard to do during a pandemic, but he found online editing work).
I’m lucky that I could afford to have both my sons at home with me in Spring 2020. Both my children were fortunate to study, work, and enjoy some time to reflect about their academic directions. But the quarter proved still somewhat depressing for them. Why? Lack of excitement of being on campus? Uncertainty when the plague would end? Restrictions on movement and social interaction? Surely all of the above. Reports say that now a third of Americans show signs of clinical anxiety or depression.
PRETTY MUCH FOR MY STANFORD STUDENTS TOO
Students enrolled in my Spring 2020 courses, meanwhile, confronted the daunting task of teaching their research on Zoom without drifting into the “droning,” “disembodied” '‘online boredom” of which they accuse their professors.
The students produced great work, but also struggled with all the changes and challenges of the virtual quarter. Now with their first online quarter drawing to a close, they express their disappointment with the increasingly likely prospect that at least part of the 2020-2021 school year will be off campus. They tell me, “Spring online was doable” or “Okay” but “not worth doing again considering the expense and the lack of actual college experience.” The words “gap year” have come up a lot.
For the 600+ undergraduates I teach and mentor, I estimate about 40% have told me they are considering or have already planned to take a gap year. This number might in fact be lower than other colleagues’ students because a large percentage of my students happen to be international and FLI, first-gen, low-income students, who tell me they “can’t afford” to take the gap year for numerous reasons: lack of secure housing at home, fear of losing their scholarships and momentum in an already precarious educational trajectory. Student athletes also have little prospect of taking a gap year.
Compare these undergraduates to the cohort of graduating high school seniors I currently tutor. On the one hand, 10 of these are paying students—from families who can afford to pay—and they are currently leaning 7-3 in favor of taking a gap year. If their colleges won’t offer on-campus education, some of those 7 will work in hospitals, some plan to do internships. On the other hand, I also tutor pro bono high school students from low-income backgrounds. None of them dreams of a gap year, but many are making alternative plans for work and less expensive community college courses near home. For them, it’s a question of strategically taking courses that their universities will accept as transfer units— something elite universities strictly monitor. Here are Stanford’s policies.
Such impediments to transfer are part of the higher education business model. So is discouraging time off. Institutions of higher education have an interest in getting students enrolled for Fall 2020. If 40% of the more affluent college students opt for a gap year, the results will inflict a shock to most institutions’ budgets. Private universities, moreover, depend on the full tuition of children from more affluent families because schools charge less, or nothing at all, to high-achieving students from low-income families. For most of these institutions every $1 charged, almost 50¢ goes for financial aid.
Nationally, the number of students predicted to take a gap year is currently around 12%. But that’s only because students are still waiting for colleges and universities to decide about their plans next year. Most institutions have promised to make announcements in June. The more that refrain from offering on-campus learning, the more students, especially wealthier students, will opt for gap years.
Last week Twitter blew up with intense discussions about gap years, with some strident detractors.
So, should you take a gap year? Ask yourself these questions:
Can I afford a gap year?
Is my gap year work opportunity worth delaying the degree?
Will I be earning significant money and/or gaining some skill that will serve me better than what I can learn from my university’s online course offerings?
Given that any alternative gap year experience will have limitations during the pandemic, am I willing to be as disappointed with those as I am with online education in general?
Some of my students have said an emphatic YES to all these questions. They are the exception with particularly great, well-funded projects that are worth pursuing during a leave of absence. Are these only the wealthy students? No. Many FLI students have great alternative options as well. But with the majority of gap year takers being affluent students, some observers have considered their departure a potential boon for FLI students, who will have more “breathing room” in classrooms.
Whatever your financial situation, if you answered at least 1 “No” to the above questions, and next year’s offerings are only online without return to campus life, you should nevertheless consider enrolling and looking for ways to improve your online learning experience.
Here is some good news:
The rental market has crashed. Even in expensive cities like Boston and San Francisco, some students tell me they’ve been able to negotiate rents at 30% less than the original asking and that living and working together can be better financially than using university funding or taking more loans. Rental signs have been up for weeks. Make the landlord an offer they can’t refuse. Airbnb, once the wrecker of the rental market, is desperate for renters.
Such rents have made it possible to shelter in place with college friends and recreate some of the social benefits of being in school. Right now, I know of several different groups of FLI and international students in shared housing, sharing rooms.
A number of my first-gen students have found jobs and housing in the medical data science—one of the few booming industries right now.
Come fall, my kids will flee my house, return school and their work-study and lab jobs. I know they will learn and grow more if they enroll, sheltering in place in their apartment near campus, taking online classes, and working. You have until mid-July at most institutions to make your decision about fall.
Of course many issues remain about the quality of online learning and the value of campus culture, these are topics for another piece. In the meantime, consider this: Going to school during a pandemic is tantamount to extreme adulting. Do it, and ask for help surviving.