Colleges must be ready to help their students this fall

Learning was a struggle during the early months of the pandemic. Online classes sucked, and my own mental health made things even more difficult.

Early March was a weird time in New Jersey. The weeks before spring break had been filled with ominous news about COVID-19’s intrusion into neighboring New York. Signs appeared around campus urging students to be vigilant about hand-washing.

So it was hardly a shock when I received the news at the end of our week off that we would not be returning to Montclair State University, and that after an additional week of break that all of my classes would be moving online. The United States had reached the 500-case mark the day before our spring break officially began. Rudy Gobert’s positive test and the suspension of NBA play came four days later, with the declaration of a national emergency arriving two days after that.

The sequence of events feels like it happened a lifetime ago. Three months of being cooped up at home and staring at your computer screen will do that to you. Day after day of online coursework that you can’t quite convince yourself actually matters in the grand scheme of things, given that thousands of people are dying every day, will do that to you. 

Matters get worse when you struggle with depression and ADHD. Mental health, or sometimes a lack thereof, has been one of the consistent threads of my adult life. It’s the reason why I’m going to be graduating from school this December after first enrolling in September of 2012. College has been a series of fits and starts. I’ve only managed to get the rusty mine cart that is my brain to cooperate over the last few years.

Needless to say, the latter half of this past semester was a challenge. 

While the first week or two of online classes went off without a hitch, things quickly deteriorated. Stir-craziness set in, followed by bouts of depression. Watching the news of rising death tolls roll in day after day crushed any sense of greater purpose for my schoolwork. Anxiety over missed deadlines became a snowballing source of stress. Being furloughed from my writing gig only made matters worse.

It took weeks for me to get back on track. By that point I’d gotten woefully behind in a few of my classes, and the final days of the semester were a race against the clock to make up as much work as possible. 

On top of that, I didn’t feel like I was learning all that much. Although my professors did their best to adapt to the new academic reality, the virtual classes were poor substitutes for face-to-face instruction. Discussions were far less dynamic. It was easier to get distracted. 

Some of my classes didn’t even meet on Zoom. One large lecture course with upwards of 40 students in the section simply had us answer questions about the content of each chapter of the textbook every week. It was hardly an educational experience worthy of the tuition fees we’d paid.

It’s important to recognize that the professors and the departments they worked in had very little time to plan for what was essentially an entirely different form of teaching, and that they had to do it mid-stream. Any solution was going to be half-baked. That’s why it’s essential that the summer is used to devise more effective educational methods to implement in the fall. 

Indeed, there’s a strong chance we’ll be doing this again in a few months’ time. America is still wracked with COVID-19, and more reports are emerging that we may be under-reporting the number of deaths. States are moving towards hasty reopenings without robust testing or contact tracing initiatives, or a vaccine. Social distancing and mask-wearing are becoming partisan issues. On top of all of that, nationwide protests are bringing tens of thousands of people together in extremely close proximity. These uprisings are entirely noble and justified, but the fact remains that they could lead to a spike in cases. 

If these trends continue, and if the ominous second wave does in fact hit, there’s no way classes will be able to safely meet in person. The Cal State system has already announced that the fall semester will be conducted remotely. There will be more sickness, more suffering both from the virus and the state-driven violence in our streets, and more death. 

That translates to more mental strain for students, many of whom are essential workers and are thus risking exposure and enduring additional stress. A recent study found that more than 60% of college students report feeling severe anxiety, while more than 40% reported severe depression. Those conditions are difficult enough to manage under normal circumstances. Doing so while being stuck at home during a pandemic and historic upheaval is even harder. 

I’m lucky. I’m physically healthy. Nobody in my family has contracted COVID-19. Our financial livelihoods, besides my own, are intact. 

Not everyone is as fortunate. Millions have lost their jobs. Countless families have been touched by death, and their numbers will only increase over the summer. People are being beaten and gassed for demanding racial equality and justice. It almost feels cruel to expect students to perform under these circumstances, to say nothing of asking them to excel. Montclair State, like many other schools, instituted an optional pass-fail system in recognition of this. But it’s not enough. 

Colleges must be prepared for the reality that many of their students might simply not be up to the task of applying themselves to their studies. Does that mean reducing the amount of required classwork and moving towards more discussion-based formats? Does it mean an emphasis on smaller assignments or guided activities?

I’m not an educational expert, so I don’t know. What I am is a student who found school too difficult to manage for a long time, and I’m now finishing up my degree during one of the scariest moments in recent history. I’m someone with intimate knowledge of the havoc that mental illness can cause. I’m someone who struggled to get through two months of quarantined schooling while enjoying somewhat ideal circumstances of health and economic stability. 

Schools must be ready for what’s to come. There needs to be strong support systems in place for students who need help. Mechanisms must be created to accommodate students who are mentally struggling or dealing with the fallout from the current escalation of violence and terror. There must be an understanding that we might not be able to learn at the same level as we once did, and that the number of students whose lives have been directly impacted by COVID-19 and whatever level of institutional mayhem is coming our way will only grow larger. Schools must be ready to function this way until further notice.