Reflections from Dublin: A Pandemic Perspective

Kristina Varade, Modern Languages

Two years like none other

January 2020 was supposed to be the beginning of an intense academic adventure. Having secured three research fellowships in Dublin, Ireland, I knew that the semester was going to fly by in a flurry of visits to Trinity College’s library, of offering talks with University College, Dublin’s Humanities Institute, of mentoring graduate and postgraduate students and of presenting multiple papers both in Ireland and in other European locations. Most importantly, I longed to experience Ireland not as a so-called ‘blow-in,’ but rather as a true Dubliner, or ‘Dub.’

Things started off well. I ended up quickly making friends from around the world with the scholars of Trinity College’s research institute, the “Long Room Hub.” In this heady time right before the world paused, days were filled with pride in delivering lectures and conducting discussions on my research, heading to pubs and evening colloquia with the other academics, and most of all, in scouring the Early Printed Books and Special Collections of the Berkeley Library.

Echoes of a strange virus on a cruise ship began to circulate. A nervous energy began to permeate the Hub. The question, “Do you think we will have to close?” all too soon changed to, “When will we have to close?” and “When do I have to retrieve my books and belongings?”

Looking back, it is surreal to remember that my last weekend before Ireland paused was spent celebrating Valentine’s Day at an historic Irish castle. In this location, one had the strange reminiscence of a sinking Titanic. Wealthy patrons dined extravagantly, drank excessively, and generally came together as strangers to sing Irish rebel songs and to face the unknown.

Looking back on that time evokes mixed sensations. While my remote teaching wouldn’t commence until September, I felt I was the lucky one. Not having to be thrown into the lion’s den of remote learning in real time was a true blessing. I would have the rare luxury of time to prepare courses and lectures worthy of our students, many of whom would have gone on to suffer so tragically the injustices of Covid-19 and its repercussions.

Thinking back to the castle began to fill me with guilt. Ireland was an escape. I could escape the sirens near my home in the East Village, the white refrigerator trucks and the stench of the bodies which my colleagues and students will never have the good fortune to forget. Even though I was confined to a two-mile radius, I could walk, run, and bike between the Royal and Grand Canals, Trinity’s campus, and Dublin Bay. In direct contradiction to Ireland’s notoriously rainy and windy weather, those April and May months were some of the most glorious I had ever experienced. Instead, my students and colleagues were often confined to overcrowded one-bedroom apartments and forced to endure the incessant wailing of those same sirens, night and day.

What also filled me with guilt was the sense that I had betrayed my home and city. New York had seen me through so much in life already. Fortunately, as a US citizen, I could freely move back and forth between Dublin and my home in Manhattan. Again, the guilt hit rather hard, knowing that my students and friends could not simply visit their parents and loved ones on birthdays or holidays as I could.

But guilt turned to blessings when Zoom came into play. In March, the Hub began remote talks and weekly Wednesday coffee hours. The transition from work office to home office (in my case, the dining room table) was a seamless one, mostly due to the support of my fellow faculty members and (post)graduate students at Trinity. In what could have been a highly charged and anxious moment, everyone, from the most senior academics to beginner Ph.D. students, formed a special bond. This was mostly due to the kindness and support of Drs. Jane Ohlmeyer and Eve Patten, two shining images of calm in a sea of uncertainty. Under their aegis, we were able to comfort ourselves doing what academics do best: discuss ideas, teach, argue, commiserate, and support. This support and opportunity for rigorous academic growth would continue with the excellent guidance and much needed tough questioning of Dr. Anne Fuchs at UCD, along with the Humanities Institute graduate students and postgrads there. Though the glorious mode of Zoom, I could finally achieve what I had always wanted to accomplish–to be able to speak to my colleagues in an infinite number of places and time zones at once.

Despite having been blessed with the space to physically and mentally prepare myself for remote teaching, returning to full-time in Fall 2020 came a as a bit of a shock to the system. I had gotten a taste of this medicine when giving a guest lecture for Columbia University’s Irish Seminar: at 12:30 AM. Indeed, the time difference would be both a blessing and a curse; I could accomplish an impressive amount of research during the day but would then be faced with the daunting task of late evening classes. While Irish friends were finishing their work week and heading to the pubs, I was heading to Italian 105. But in retrospect, mine was a charmed existence.

Clearly students were exhausted by their current situations, continually frightened of the long-term repercussions of the pandemic, and justifiably angry with the systemic injustice of the present day. Mercifully, however, they seemed to be delighted to be ‘in’ class and learning a new language. My techniques at the time were to remove as much external pressure as possible during the weekly Italian lessons and in assessment. How was that accomplished? By highlighting the following three key teaching ‘ingredients’: reciprocal organization, faculty patience, and faculty-to-student understanding.

I found that organization and consistency were the most crucial factors in a successful remote course during the Covid-19 pandemic. Once the pattern of welcome, review, new material, practice and summary was established, students were delighted to have the opportunity to see/hear others and to interact with fellow students outside of their direct social bubbles. Throughout this time, most successful components of the language class included one-on-one contact in the “Zoom Room,” in which students could feel free to make mistakes and to support each other in an uncritical setting, along with a strong emphasis on collegiality and the attitude that, “We’re all in this together.” This occurred despite that some students were participating in class from their bathrooms or their cars, among other unlikely locations.

At Trinity and at UCD, respectively, my research sponsors set precedents of propelling rigorous academic inquiry forward while always remembering to ask researchers individual questions and to ‘check in.’ While such attention to the individual student would have been laughable at top international institutions in the past, it was a most positive (and hopefully lasting) outcome in coming to terms with the challenges of remote learning during a global pandemic and beyond. Overwhelmingly, access to basic resources was of dire concern, as were the individual struggles of family members. The situation at BMCC was no different.

Using Drs. Ohlmeyer, Patten, and Fuchs as models, I applied a similar pedagogical approach of first concern and subsequently education with my BMCC students, trying to keep the atmosphere both emotionally light and academically rigorous. I continue to do so as we face new remote learning challenges and global instability. It is hard for a student to focus on present tense verb conjugations when a colleague or student’s family member is sick or dying from the virus or political instability, as happened both in Dublin and at BMCC.

Aside from providing consistent goals toward language acquisition, I found remote learning to be one of the most effective tools in creating meaningful and lasting connection both within and beyond the confines of the classroom. Students were required to respond to other students in every discussion board, offering at least one positive or encouraging response. In addition, it was imperative to make every student feel important and heard. This was accomplished by strictly requiring attendance and vocal participation (or chat, if need be) from each individual. Often, comparative cultural awareness was the fundamental bridge toward mutual understanding and class bonding. Discussing the Italian concept of “Bella figura” versus “Brutta figura” (“To cut a good or a bad figure”), for example, deeply resonated across cultures and backgrounds. Had we been in the traditional classroom setting, and due to the comfort level of the students online, I am certain that the conversation would not have been as rich and complex. By more fully embracing these types of non-assessment-based modes of student language appropriation, a strikingly low number of students fell through the cracks in this period.

But perhaps the best testament to successful teaching under Covid was the following email, included with a picture of two smiling students and received just as the pandemic began to recede: “Ciao Professoressa, come stai? Grazie per questa classe, mi sono fatta un’amica! ☺️” (“Hi, Professor, how are you? Thank you for this class; I made a friend!”). Despite an ever-increasing series of global challenges, the success of effective remote learning suggests that friendship, collegiality, and innovative scholarship will continue to flourish against the odds.

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