Graduation Cap and Mouse
by Stephen P. Cummings, MSW, ACSW, LISW
I had already written a whole article for the spring 2020 edition. I focused on graduation and beyond, and how we can use the technology tools we are already familiar with to continue our personal growth and social work development. You’re not reading that article here.
Working on my university’s campus in early March, the email messages from management started to flow into my inbox. As a result of the anticipated outbreak of COVID-19, Spring break would be extended to two weeks. Classes would be moved to the virtual classroom environment until early April, pending further review. Then, the virtual classroom mandate was extended to May. Then to August. Then students were informed they would need to leave campus for the remainder of the semester. Then, the announcement was made that graduation ceremonies had been canceled.
As a social work professor, I know how important graduation events are to students. I tell the same marginally funny joke at every orientation: You’ll have many great experiences, but your two happiest days in any program are your first day, and your last day. Orientation is new and exciting. Graduation marks the end of your program, and all the work you put in is done. Your family may be in the audience, and they may acknowledge your accomplishment. Occasionally, a relative has been on the same path you’ve just completed. Yet, to be blunt, the only people who truly know what you went through are your classmates and you. And your professors.
That’s the thing about these ceremonies. They mark something important for students, and the event is essentially for them. Students have the big day before moving into their next phase of life. I note that professors remain in that phase, set on loop, but the loop is never the same twice. Curricula are updated, courses change, faces come and go. But the basics of the routine remain in place. Students are admitted, you move through the program, and then you graduate. The implicit work being done by your professors, much of it behind the scenes, amounts to a great deal of effort. This effort goes unseen, as it should.
As I enter the eighth year of my time in this role, I’ve truly come to enjoy graduation season. As the distance education administrator for my program, I have a relationship with each of my program’s education centers. That means I usually attend three graduation ceremonies each May. Often, many of the students at these various centers only know me in passing, if only because they’ve seen my name in email messages or program events. That’s fine. I know they’ve worked hard to get to this point. I’d like to believe the effort I’ve put into my work has directly benefited them, even if they aren’t aware.
So, as my calendar approaches mid-May, it’s sinking in that, during this time of the COVID-19 pandemic, all those ceremonies are cancelled for the year. There’s talk of rescheduling the events, or moving them to an online environment. I don’t know yet what, if anything, we’ll be doing. I do know that students have already contacted me, asking if they can still rent or purchase their graduation regalia. Students are already talking about setting up virtual graduation ceremonies, with private gatherings with their families.
So, I reflect.
- I’m quietly amazed. We’ve come to a point in our collective academic cultural experience at which students are already planning to use the necessary technology tools to make something happen.
- I’m relieved. I reflect that, given the nature of this sweeping, incredibly fast-paced spread of COVID-19, instructors are able to work with students to the end of the semester. In online gatherings, communities have come together for support and suggestions to make the best of the situation.
- I’m overwhelmed. Nobody signed up for this. Preparing for any virtual course normally requires months of preparing, and the vast majority of professors are doing this in real time. Being a virtual classroom student is not an experience that ports directly from the “on-the-ground” or “in-real-life” classroom. Along the way, students and professors are sharing in grief and loss. When someone in a student’s family dies, we all feel it. When a milestone like graduation is missed, it doesn’t equal a loss of a loved one, but it is still a loss, and we grieve it. The virtual environment can be off-putting. It brings us together, and when it’s working, it provides the solution we need. But it reminds us we aren’t where we were just a few weeks ago.
- I’m scared. There’s very little consistency in any predictions of the future, other than things aren’t returning to how they were anytime soon. I am optimistic we will persevere, but the toll on our lives is mounting.
- And I’m angry. As others have noted, I reject that this is “the new normal.” There’s nothing normal about what we are going through. Our social work colleagues in the field are leaping into telehealth with little time to prepare, because we are committed to the people we serve. We are deemed essential in the hospital setting. We are “gowning up” every day with whatever’s available, as the national stockpile is depleted, and states and municipalities are left to fight each other for supplies. It shouldn’t be this way. I’m angry because, for years, little priority has been placed on fortifying campus counseling to include virtual sessions, particularly necessary for students who live away from campus. It took a pandemic to demonstrate that we can deliver online support to students. Make no mistake; this support is needed.
These reflections are not comprehensive. I can’t easily trace where all my thoughts and feelings are coming from. My son, who is in fourth grade, connected to his first virtual classroom setting via Zoom. This should have been easy for me to accept, but as I watched him put on his headphones and saw his face light up when he saw his classmates and friends for the first time in weeks, I shared in his joy, but also became tearful. This didn’t need to happen. He shouldn’t have to do this. Yet we are also privileged; he has access to the equipment needed to connect in the first place. This isn’t hardware on loan to him from his district; it’s his own computer. This is not something all his classmates can access. Inequality is openly visible during this time. (On a call last week, a parent from another district asked, “Doesn’t your school give out Chromebooks to each student?” (No, I am afraid they do not.)
It feels trite, during this very real time, to make recommendations to students. I do believe we’ll “get through this,” but I also hope what we’re going through will finally help enact major changes that will eliminate inequality. So, in that spirit:
- Recognize the moment. No matter what, you got to this point. “Graduation in place” means gowning up and sharing time, in real life or virtually, with the people important to you. Your program may be arranging something virtual to at least make the best of things.
- Start with yourself. We talk a lot about self-care in The New Social Worker, and for good reason. It’s important to acknowledge what we are going through. We are often working in multiple roles and multiple contexts, at home and at work. I’ve been working from home for almost a month now, and even though I’m fortunate to have a place in which to seek shelter, feelings of anxiety are still inescapable. I need to monitor myself closely to make sure I’m getting enough opportunities to move, and embrace downtime.
- Stay connected virtually. Don’t lose contact with your classmates and colleagues. Look for ways to connect via Zoom or Google Hangout. This may not always be optimal; I can attest that several hours of Zoom meetings each day can be especially exhausting. Yet, I look forward to weekly meetups with colleagues to share experiences and ideas. If you are invited to a virtual meetup online with people you haven’t met yet, consider joining.
The need for social work is evident. We can’t ignore the fact that we’re facing a grim job outlook for the time being. I wish it were otherwise. We’ve seen times like this before, although each economic downturn is different. Yet the need for social work is evident during this time. I don’t have the ability to see the future, but if we truly believe we will persevere, then our social work leadership skills, our ability to understand multiple systems in context, and our desire and ability to seek and enact social change will have a place. Only then will we finally achieve “the new normal.”
Stephen P. Cummings, MSW, ACSW, LISW, is a clinical assistant professor at the University of Iowa School of Social Work, where he is the administrator for distance education.