Views From Remote Campus

My view of my campus is similar when compared to many others working in higher education. As a Success Coach on a small, rural campus, I report to work in a brick building built in the early 1900s surrounded by the green forests of Appalachia. Each morning, I walk with many other employees of the institution—Financial Aid Counselors, Residence Life Assistants, New Student Programs Coordinators, faculty, and staff—as we report to our building ready to tackle a day of serving our students. We exchange friendly hellos as we each enter our shared building with coffee in hand.

After entering my building, I ride the elevator up four floors to my office—a lovely 10′ by 10′ room decorated with a Paris theme because of my love for the city. Being on the top-most floor of the building, I have two dormer windows looking out onto our tranquil campus. I can see the busy common area where most student foot traffic flows in between classes. I can also see the clock tower outside that chimes on the hour every hour as I pass my day meeting with students one on one to discuss strategies to help them navigate life as a college student. But that was before…

In March 2020, I left my office to travel to attend a conference in another state. As I was preparing my presentation in the hotel, the COVID-19 international pandemic escalated quite rapidly in the United States. The chaos of the virus broke loose. Stay-at-home orders were being implemented, all unnecessary travel was banned. The conference I was about to present at—canceled. A word that would soon replace plans and meetings of otherwise busy schedules for many of us.

I hadn't realized that the day I left my office in March would be my last for several months.

I hadn't realized that the day I left my office in March would be my last for several months.

When I returned to my home from the canceled conference, I was asked to self-quarantine. I started remote work as a Success Coach from home within a few days. I attempted to set up life as a remote employee in my house that is only a few blocks from my campus office. The daily tasks and work were the same, yet they were not the same, as my “view of campus” completely shifted. Now in my little blue house turned work environment, I had my at-home desk and a laptop. No more did I walk into my building with fellow colleagues exchanging pleasantries. No more did I unlock my door to look out my office window at the flow of student foot traffic on campus. Instead, each morning, I walked down one flight of stairs to my office as my new commute. My web camera became my view of my campus and students, a completely new view. One that was so different and illuminating.

As I shifted my typical face-to-face meetings to occur via the now well-known video-conferencing platform Zoom, I was worried about my students. What was it like for them taking their last steps off campus? What kind of home were they being asked to return to? My web camera gave me a glimpse of their new learning environments and their new remote campus.

I got to see a wide variety of learning environments during these Success Coaching appointments. Sometimes, I could see only blank walls behind the student. Sometimes I could see students sitting on the floor beside their beds. Other students shakily held their phones as we connected via Zoom either because that was the only device with a web camera or they didn't have a laptop so they were attempting to do all of their school work on a smartphone.

One day a few weeks after the shift to remote work and learning, one student had clearly set an alarm for approximately 5 min before our meeting because when his web camera turned on he was in bed, under the covers, with disheveled hair. I chuckled and continued our discussion as if nothing were out of the ordinary. I didn't mind. I was happy to connect with him, no matter what his environment might be.

Another student was referred to me by a faculty member because she had missed several assignments. She seemed eager to speak to me, and we quickly set up our Zoom meeting. My view into her world was one of chaos. During our approximately 30-min appointment, there were two times that younger siblings popped into the view as the student tried to tell me about her concerns of staying focused. Each time, I waved to the sibling and gently guided the student to continue, sometimes reminding her where she had left off as she had lost her train of thought. At another point in our conversation, she muted her microphone. I could see her mutely yelling at someone elsewhere in the house. When she returned to our conversation, she quickly apologized that she had to yell to her mother who was asking her something, not realizing that the student was speaking to someone. It was easy to see why the student may have missed a few assignments but not as easy to coach her on how to establish boundaries with her family by discussing the competing needs of the family and this student's academics.

The sudden shift to remote learning sent our students scattered across an array of learning environments. There were varying needs of the family to consider, like family obligations of providing extra income or assisting siblings who also were attempting to learn remotely. There were varying hardware and software available to the students. There were students who did not have laptops, reliable internet, etc. There was a general increase in stress and anxiety of having so many unknowns to contend with. I wasn't sure how any student could succeed academically in these trying conditions.

I asked some of my students to describe their experience after the shift to remote learning. Many shared their concerns about battling the varied distractions of their home environment as the majority of the students I spoke to moved from their campus residence to a house or apartment with their families. One student shared, “I live next to a busy gas station so during the time I would do schoolwork there would be a lot of noise. Also, with everyone else in my family being home, they would sometimes distract me or make noise when I was working.” Another student shared, “My family had the expectation that since I was home, I could do whatever they needed and that school wasn't a thing anymore (treating it like a holiday break). I had the expectation that I would be able to keep my routine of focusing on myself and my school and personal needs throughout each day, as I had at school. We both had to change our expectations and compromise to get through the rest of the semester.” These distractions were a hurdle for many students as well as having to negotiate so many changes in such a short amount of time.

If there is one silver lining to the virus, it is that the virus has hopefully been a catalyst toward change in so many areas that we were leaving largely ignored as professionals in higher education.

Not all of my students were lucky to have access to high-speed internet in their homes. Being in a rural part of the country, some students had to sit in their cars near campus buildings or restaurants to access Wi-Fi. Others struggled to have fast enough connections to keep up with their work plus the work of siblings and family members who were also working from home. These environmental factors were evident to me as I interacted with the students in the small box that was my view of their individual remote campuses.

Some students shared the positives of the shift to remote learning. One student said, “I was able to attend class in my pajamas!” Others were happy that they had someone in their home who could help prepare meals so they didn't have to rush through a quick meal at the dining hall between classes. Despite pointing to some limited positives of the experience, all of the students expressed their preference for their studying to occur on campus and how much they themselves missed their old view of campus.

These views into my students' new learning environments were humbling. I quickly realized that this pandemic had shone a light on so many of the inequalities that our students face. In the pre-COVID-19 times, most of us were moving through our day-to-day routines somehow allowing these inequalities to remain on the peripheral. At least, I can say with certainty that I allowed myself to push some of the inequities to the side. The pandemic has forced many of these issues to surface and become priorities. If there is one silver lining to the virus, it is that the virus has hopefully been a catalyst toward change in so many areas that we were leaving largely ignored as professionals in higher education.

While I have been permitted to return to my office on the fourth floor of my building on a rotating schedule, my view of campus is quite different, both literally and figuratively. I wear a mask and take the stairs to my office, rather than using the elevator. I keep a standard six feet of social distance between myself and any colleagues I encounter. I enter my office to look out the window at a mostly empty common area. The word I often hear colleagues from around the country using to describe their campuses’ physical spaces now is eerie due to being largely devoid of students. We are all missing the energy that the physical presence of students infuses into the brick and mortar of our buildings.

I hope we can return with our eyes wide open to the disparities we have seen come to light as a result of the pandemic.

Mitroff (1994) is a scholar who has written extensively on organizational theory and strategic planning. His research and work have also focused on crisis management, resulting in his Five Stages of Crisis Management. The five stages that he suggests are signal detection, probing and prevention, damage containment, recovery, and learning. While each of the five stages has its lessons to offer to us, his model ends with two important phases for professionals in higher education: recovery and learning. When the time is right, we must move into our recovery and learning phases of the COVID-19 crisis. If we ourselves cannot learn and improve as a result of this unprecedented crisis, then I fear more crises will follow for our institutions.

There are many crises that could arise at institutions of higher education, but the COVID-19 pandemic as well as financial concerns and the ongoing social climate of the United States have created a collision of crises. Gigliotti has penned a timely book entitled Crisis Leadership in Higher Education. In this book, Gigliotti (2020) shares definitions for several crises that higher education could be facing as institutions attempt to move into the recovery and learning phases of the pandemic crisis. An example could be an exacerbated financial crisis due to increases in needs as a result of COVID-19 coupled with lost revenue as some campuses face a continued decline in state funding or enrollment declines. Gigliotti (2020) shares racial or identity conflicts as potential crises as unrest due to racial or identity tensions rise or an act of intolerance is committed by a campus community member. There are many other potential crises that could occur on campuses, such as natural disaster crises, athletic crises, or human resources crises. The collision of such crises just as many are attempting to move through the recovery phase of COVID-19, though, could mean complete disaster for some of our campuses. A disaster that might be hard to survive.

I know we are eager to return to a bit more normalcy in having students on campus. There are institutions around the country that returned to their physical campuses, whether fully or in part. No matter what capacity of in-person work has been implemented, my sincerest hope is that we all can acknowledge that our figurative campus views should not be a quick return to the status quo. I hope we can return with our eyes wide open to the disparities we have seen come to light as a result of the pandemic. We should all take time to reflect on not only the personal but also institutional lessons learned because of COVID-19 and continue to press on the inequalities that we have seen so that they remain priorities. We can do this by remembering the final stages of crisis management and by taking the time to understand that we will recover and we need to learn from this pandemic.

We must focus on just one crisis at a time, though. My hope is that part of our recovery from the pandemic crisis will be to continue to implement change, to reflect, and to learn. We can use the momentous changes brought about by the virus to continue to allow our otherwise glacial pace of change in higher education to remain accelerated. We have proven we can adapt. Many institutions pivoted from full face-to-face learning to remote learning in a matter of days. If we can do that, imagine what other major changes we can make.

Higher education has been long due for changes. We have the privilege of providing enriching student experiences through our professional practice. What changes to policies or institutional responses can we make to ensure that we are continuing to provide enriching experiences for all of our students in a post-COVID era? How can we transform ourselves and our institutions to provide even better services, opportunities, and experiences for our students? How can we reshape our institutions with the students in mind?

We have the privilege of providing enriching student experiences through our professional practice.

As we all feel ourselves moving through the recovery phase, I also urge you to reflect. Reflect on your former professional self and former practices. I think back to the routine of walking into my office each morning and my routines during the pre-COVID-19 time. Reflect on your COVID-19 self and practices. I reflect on my phase of remote work and routines during that time. What are the best aspects of both of these that you can carry forward with you in order to continue to serve students?

I encourage you to ask yourself and others in your professional circle, “What have we learned?” I learned a lot about my students, their circumstances, their lives. I want to carry what I’ve learned with me into the recovery phase so that this difficult time doesn't pass us without some thoughtful changes.

In working through change, reflection, and learning, I suggest starting a projects list. Order the projects list by difficulty level and anticipated timeline for implementation. What small changes can be made in a matter of a week or month? Are these changes that you personally will make, the office will make, or the campus will make? Tackle the small projects first because when small changes are added up, they can lead to big changes. Then you have the momentum to tackle the bigger projects. Revisit your list each Monday as you plan your week to reassess your attempts at change, reflection, and learning. This projects list and priority list is my personal plan. I challenge all of us to keep working to adapt and evolve in order to better serve our students in the future as we create new and improved views of our campus.