Many years ago, when I was in high school, I was very involved in all things music. I played flute in the band and in the pep band for football games. I was a mediocre flute player, but I loved being involved in it all. I also sang in everything – the madrigal singers, the chorus, and in the musicals. Part of all this activity meant auditioning for county and state choruses. I was a better singer than flute player, so I was routinely selected for these elite choral groups. What a lucky thing to go to a regular public school, not in a wealthy neighborhood, and have all of this available! But I digress.
Today, I am remembering a moment in All County Chorus when we were rehearsing Leonard Bernstein’s Chichester Psalms. We had been struggling to find our parts all morning, but finally we had it. We hit a particularly beautiful and robust chord and the conductor burst into tears. Since we were a bunch of awkward teenagers, he was quick to reassure us that they were tears of joy. There are moments when a particularly resonant note can send chills up the spine and move a person to weep. I understood him immediately. It happens to me all the time.
So, here we are at the start of a new academic year, and we are inching our way back to campus after a long year of remote, hybrid, and limited in person learning. I am very proud of all we accomplished last year. Students, faculty, and staff all worked valiantly through so much uncertainty and so many frustrations, navigating new technology and re-imagining ways to connect with our students. Some things were stellar, some just barely adequate, but everyone tried hard and learning continued. Most of all, everyone was kind. But we were also unsatisfied, so here we are, trying to return to something like a normal college environment.
Well, it is worth wondering why we are so eager to return. After all, the tools of instruction, with practice, do become easier to manage. The pedagogical innovations that online (and hybrid) learning offer are more fun as we have time to engage them repeatedly. Indeed, after the giant learning curve of moving all instruction online, we have the luxury of repetition to help us feel more in control of the environment. This is really a lot like what we do in the classroom. Teaching starts as a terrifying plunge, but with repetition, we develop our skills and learn how to play with learning. Online instruction turns out to be a nice component of the learning environments available to us.
We also learned that a lot of our processes are better online. Bureaucratic processes like registration, bill paying, and signing contracts are simpler in electronic format. It is also true that, for many of our students, tutoring support is better online. It is just easier to arrange schedules when you can meet virtually and the tools allow direct interaction, rather than back and forth of email. It isn’t good for everyone, but it is good for a lot of students. Students and faculty are finding that having the flexibility of online office hours is also a benefit. Again, not for everything and everyone, but we should keep some of that available. Yes, this being forced to move online has improved access to services and support in important ways.
But all in all, we were still missing something. We did our best to have guest lectures and workshops and presentations all year. People attended, people asked questions, and there was convenience to all of that. Still we missed the ease of the back and forth that happens when we’re in the room together. It’s that corner of your eye motion that clues you in to a question unasked or a comment unspoken that is just hard to spot on Zoom.
Performances, art shows, honors ceremonies, and Western Research Day all took place, but let’s face it, we all missed a little direct applause. In one instance the faculty hosting an awards ceremony tried to put some applause into the mix – a nice effort and we all enjoyed it – but it’s just not the same. Little boxes on screens just don’t make us feel like we are all together.
So, we’re making the effort to return to campus while still managing some uncertainty. Things are much better than they were last year, of course, and we’ve gotten very good at our safety protocols, but it is not quite normal, and we will be working hard. So, why are we doing it? Because we miss the We.
The We inspires us, connects us, and makes us feel alive. No matter how technologically advanced we get, there is still something magical about shared spaces and the immediacy of responses when we are together. Being together helps us feel alive; it helps us know that we exist. It isn’t about the measurable or the possible or the practical. It is about the excitement we feel when we start to understand something together. It is the feeling of exhilaration when we’re all in the same room celebrating the success of a colleague. It is even the aggravation of being stymied together and throwing up our hands in knowing despair.
The We tells us we are alive and it gives us meaning. It evokes a feeling of commonality and basic humanity. The We is magic. Let’s face it, magic is a necessary ingredient for education and for our lives. So, as I begin to make the rounds of welcoming everyone back, I won’t be surprised if, like that conductor so many years ago, I burst into tears. The magic of We is my perfect chord.