The Online Experiment

Harshitha Satish

18/UECA/045

After a long break from college and its paraphernalia, online classes have begun for the new semester – one of the biggest changes in the world. Unlike last year or the year before, on the first day of college, I woke up with a tinge more of enthusiasm than usual. I pulled myself out of my pyjama, took a quick shower and pushed myself into another pyjama to be on time for class.

I decided that I would be a rank holder this semester. The mere thought kept my spirits high until the new semester started feeling like the old one.

Everyone signs into their respective accounts, and except for a few who haven’t taken a bath or didn’t have time to get rid of the high bun, nobody is aware of whether their camera and audio is switched on or off until the overly-responsible class representative coerced into the job by her own friends (now, her enemies) starts spamming the group with “TURN OFF YOUR VIDEO AND MUTE YOURSELVES”. After 100 messages, it is down to maybe one or two people, who continue to fumble with those two buttons, until the frustrated device takes the call to switch itself off.

As soon as their device gives up, students rush to their mother’s phone lying in the corner and ask their friends to tell the teacher that there is a ‘technical glitch’. I’m so fascinated by the phrase ‘technical glitch’-- it could mean a myriad range of activities which I thankfully haven’t had the opportunity to explore.

Attendance is another ritual of its own. It takes about fifteen minutes for seventy-seven of us to unmute ourselves and answer the teacher; in the end, both students and professors have come to treat this experience with annoyance.

Before the Coronavirus became a part of the household, I remember when the teachers would question us to refresh our memory on what had been taught in the previous classes The entire class would blink and look dazedly at the teachers. They would smile and revise the entire syllabus, the same way they had taught every batch before. But now, virtual reality has made it too hard for us.

Every time the teachers ask us if they have finished teaching a sub-topic, we hide behind a screen and they only see square profiles. Separated by a screen, they are unable to see our disoriented faces and adrift minds. More than anything, we really do miss the times when the teacher could glance at our faces, read our minds and remove the cobwebs of confusion. Sadly virtual classes have become the new normal.

Let the Almighty continue to bestow immense patience upon all our teachers!