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By Scott Shepherd
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As I've been gearing up for the new term, the question of digital teaching has been on my mind. How will students in Korea fare as we enter yet another term of online learning?
There are some who will naturally thrive in any educational environment, be it physical or digital. Indeed, for some, studying online is way more convenient and comfortable than trudging all the way to school or university through gridlocked streets or on jam-packed subway carriages.
Clearly, this is not the case for everyone. Even in a country as famed for its digital connectivity as Korea, online lessons have more than their fair share of difficulties, especially for those with limited financial means.
To start with, there are just practical difficulties accessing classes. For students with money, joining a Zoom lesson from home isn't necessarily so difficult. Their less well-off peers, however, may find things much harder. The first and most obvious hurdle is affording a device on which to take the class. Even once they've wrangled themselves a suitable device, finding a quiet space from which to take the class may well present a challenge. The price of housing here, particularly in the cities, is obscene, but that's a topic for another day. As a result, plenty of students resort to taking classes from their beds ― not out of laziness, but because there's simply nowhere else they can be.
Then there's the question of motivation. I think it's fair to say that even in face-to-face classes, pupils sometimes struggle to stay awake. It's so easy to slip into lethargy in an online class ― and it's not just the students. We can all remember those teachers who couldn't really be bothered, even when a pandemic wasn't raging across the planet. How much worse will it be now for teachers and taught alike when they have no need to put on trousers or take more than ten steps to get to the lesson?
To make the situation worse, some schools feel that they can't or shouldn't force their students to keep cameras on. This is entirely sensible, even necessary, from a safeguarding perspective, especially for younger students. It does, however, have the unfortunate potential side-effect of completely ruining classes.
The problem with allowing students to have the option of not using their cameras is that they almost certainly will indeed turn them off, particularly the teenagers. It's already hard enough to pay attention even with cameras on; the moment those cameras go off, an almost infinite level of distraction instantly appears for the now-invisible learners. And spare a thought for the poor teacher: it takes a very special kind of person to stare at a bunch of names on a computer and continue a class with any gusto.
There are countless other problems which could arise as a result of online education, from missing key developmental milestones to the onset of serious mental or physical health problems because of too much time indoors in front of screens.
It's vital to address these problems because education really does change lives. The fear that the pandemic is detrimentally impacting an entire generation, exacerbating poverty, ruining lives, is undoubtedly coming true, at least in some instances.
Yet I wonder whether it's all really as awful as it could be. Most of the actual factual information taught at school isn't that important. Don't get me wrong ― some things are essential. But the vast majority isn't, and even if it was, we forget almost all of it anyway.
Much more important than the bare facts we learn during education are the new ways of thinking that good education encourages, the spark of excitement that a good teacher can inspire, the wonder at the mysteries of the world, the challenges, the experience of what hard work can achieve, the chance to think from new perspectives, to push boundaries of thought, the opportunity to meet strange new people and befriend them, to laugh and cry and feel angry or confused or bored.
When we think back to those teachers who made the most difference in our lives, it isn't because they conveyed information in the most efficient manner, like some kind of human Google. What made those teachers special was their ability to inspire us; it was the fact that they cared about us, the love that they showed us through their actions and words.
These things are certainly harder to do online, but they're still possible. And while the problems caused by online education are serious and real, we can't forget that difficult times are so often the driver for innovation.
The pandemic will almost certainly increase the gap between the very poorest and richest in society. Without resorting to outright tyranny, there's nothing we can do to stop that. But while all these troubles with online education may well have detrimental outcomes, perhaps they will also foster resilience and self-reliance in young people, which is, I dare say, much more valuable even than knowing the difference between a Petrarchan and Shakespearean sonnet.
Online learning won't be too bad ― or at least, it doesn't have to be. Students, often unconsciously, see their teachers as role-models, for good or for ill. In the face of the pandemic, we must show students how to act in times of adversity, that we can adapt and innovate to suit the changing world, and most importantly, that we care about them.
All the teachers in Korea ― whether in a kindergarten or university, whether in a rural cram school or a plush independent school in the center of Seoul ― have a solemn duty to the youth of this country. We must take a proactive approach to teaching this coming term. Unlike this time last year, we've not been caught by surprise. There is simply no excuse for poor online educational practice. In the next few weeks when we see those little Zoom boxes blinking back into existence on our screens, we must innovate and inspire. It won't be easy; teaching never has been. But there's no room for inertia in a time of global crisis. If we can't be bothered to put in that extra effort, we're letting down an entire generation of young people at a time when they need us most.
Dr. Scott Shepherd is a British-American academic. He has taught in universities in the U.K. and Korea, and is currently Assistant Professor of English at Chongshin University, Seoul. The views expressed in the article are the author's own and do not reflect the editorial direction of The Korea Times.
