Opinion: In June, at the end of the university semester, I received a thoughtful thank-you note from a student. She was a science major but, for a change of pace, had taken a class I co-teach on Gothic fiction (think Frankenstein and Dracula) and had thoroughly enjoyed it. It’s always gratifying to receive positive feedback, but the student’s note made my week, maybe my month.
New Zealand’s universities are going through a difficult, potentially devastating time. Hundreds of scholars are either taking voluntary redundancy or wondering if their positions will survive the year. To make matters worse, Covid-19 has reshaped the way we teach, and AI developments are forcing us to rethink assessment. It’s hard to prepare a lecture, let alone a new course, in these conditions.
Yet we continue to love what we do, and to do our best for our students. And I know that they appreciate it. Forty-five students took our Gothic class, and some of the best discussions of my 18 years at Otago took place in those tutorials.
Part of the pleasure came from the juicy material. Who doesn’t like talking about having another self, a Mr Hyde, to do all the things we wouldn’t dare? Why are zombies so much more disturbing than (say) werewolves? And why do vampires continue to fascinate us? (Incidentally, there was widespread agreement that vampire lovers might bypass Bram Stoker’s classic for its creepy predecessor, Sheridan Le Fanu’s Carmilla).
But mostly the class succeeded because the students were animated and committed. These were young people who, like their lecturers, had struggled with the rapid shifts in teaching methods imposed by Covid. As any educator (or business owner, or parent) will tell you, the three-year Covid roller coaster made it impossible to settle into a familiar groove. This past semester finally felt different, a return to predictability, if not normality, and our students embraced the moment.
But things have changed. In the post-Covid era, most lectures at Otago are recorded, and assignments are commonly received electronically. In my Gothic class, a solid majority attended regularly, relishing the “live” experience. But there were several who received very good marks, though I never or rarely saw them in person.
Educators must remain vigilant so that these students don’t feel lost. But online learning creates opportunities. Students who are unwell or have family demands won’t necessarily fall behind – they can watch recorded lectures when they’re ready. Many lecturers now set up weekly online tutorials, so that off-campus students can take part.
Otago hasn’t yet formulated an official policy on ChatGPT, but like calculators and computers, AI is here to stay. Anecdotal evidence suggests that quizzes and final exams are making a comeback, but mostly we need to be cleverer about creating challenging assignments that students want to complete – assignments that test what students have learned, rather than what a bot can assemble.
Are a few students exploiting the changing nature of learning? Probably; but when didn’t they? Classrooms are like workplaces: there’s always a mix of commitment and interest. But most university students are there to learn, and most humanities students are following a passion. This year, I’ve been deeply impressed by their commitment.
Mark Twain said, “I can live for two months on a good compliment.” I wish the government and the university system would give its hard-working administrators, lecturers and students a compliment by ensuring that more jobs remain safe. Until then, I take solace in knowing that our students remain intensely engaged in a wide range of subjects and, given the right support, are capable of extraordinary achievements.
Thomas McLean is an associate professor in English at the University of Otago.
