First draft:
It’s too cold in the classroom; I'm not just talking about the thermostat
I can’t help checking my phone every five seconds, which feels like fifteen minutes, anticipating the
end of some classes. It’s not the subject. It’s not the professor. It’s not me. It’s the thermostat
determined to make my afternoon class Antarctica. Between checking my phone and paying
attention to the lecture, I observe another type of cold, a metaphorical one, wrapping around myself
and my peers: disconnection.
I attend all my classes twice a week (conveniently on the same days) and yet I couldn’t describe the
faces of most of the people I sit next to, even if extra credit were on the table.
This disconnection weaves through most of my classes. There appears to be a mostly unanimous
arrangement in my classes: no interaction unless a relationship was established outside of the current
class, help is required, or the professor has instructed you to, pardon me, repeatedly instructed.
While it doesn’t threaten anyone’s GPA, it neglects an opportunity for social connection at a time
when it is needed. Loneliness and social isolation were declared epidemic due to their prevalence and
impacts on mental and physical health.
(https://www.ama-assn.org/public-health/behavioral-health/what-doctors-wish-patients-knew-
about-social-isolation).This is a public health crisis requiring concerted efforts and dedicated
resources. And, there is a part each of us can, and should, play: through conversation.
But how can we, while disconnection is so apparent in the most frequent and routine social, albeit
academic, gathering we have for the next 14 weeks?
I mistakenly attributed the existence of disconnection to students, but then I observed that some
people were trying. Before the classes began, acknowledgements were shared. Before such
interactions could grow into something to be picked up on later, the lectures started. Some students
continued talking, regardless, in murmurs that were just a decibel away from sounding like walking
through Graham Center on a weekday afternoon. Others waited until after class. But this window is
usually much shorter, especially when the next class is tickling in, you have back-to-back classes, or
you’re tired of sitting in Antarctica.
So, I ruled out the students. Remaining in the classroom, were the professors, or more directly, the
course structure. The courses are not causing this disconnection. Afterall, an effectively designed
course broadly comprises promoting academic and personal growth
(https://blog.apaonline.org/2021/02/10/what-makes-a-course-effective/). Rather, the course
structure is an overlooked avenue to nurture social connection. This should not be asking for too
much, as courses constantly adapt to contemporary culture, be it with the embrace of technology
(https://er.educause.edu/articles/2015/8/beginning-the-fourth-decade-of-the-it-revolution-in-
higher-education) or more recently the redesign of course curricula in the wake of ChatGPT
(https://www.apa.org/monitor/2023/06/chatgpt-learning-tool).Course revisions to address an
epidemic are far from unreasonable.
Some courses attempt to encourage collaboration. The limitation is in the commitment. Social
connection is the least concern when students are working under a one-minute timer to delve a
solution to a question no one had a clue about. Icebreakers are another attempt, except they don’t
work for larger classes, and in full transparency, the fun facts are getting a little boring.
With spring classes ongoing, I doubt any revisions will take place soon. In the meantime, we ought
to continue putting our sweaters to the test and making the most of the few seconds before, during
(only if you can whisper at the sound of a ticking clock while learning), and after. Who knows, we
might discover a common dislike for winter indoors and devise a plan against it.