We’re being chaperoned through our degrees by university

The push for off-campus learning and lack of a once vibrant social life has changed student life.

Mobile phone use is pervasive and it’s often demoralising to enter a seminar room and be confronted by students all focused upon their screens.

If you are inclined toward football, and watch games played at the Adelaide Oval, it would be hard to miss the LED advertising that wraps around the playing field.

On it you will see UniSA 100% online degrees. So, if it’s a hassle to get on campus, or you just want to stay in bed, an education can be accessed at your convenience. Lectures are generally pre-recorded and tutorials Zoomed. Implied in this marketing is that the kind of learning you get will be equal to the alternative – the traditional one where you attend campus, listen to lectures in person and directly engage with your fellow students.

Ash Johnson of the Magpies at the Adelaide Oval, where also seen is LED advertising for UniSA 100% online degrees. Picture: Getty Images

But it can’t be. It’s clearly impossible to ask a question in a pre-recorded lecture. Within the Zoomed seminar conversation is stilted. There is lag time between respondents. Spontaneity is diminished. Nuances lost. Personality hidden. If a crucial component of education is clear communication, then the online mode compromises that feature. It is a technology that mediates in a way that denies the full range of expression.

Unfortunately, we are seeing its use is now widespread. Pity the UniSA marketing doesn’t say 100% OnCampus Degrees. Now that would be something worth considering.

Online learning is, however, just one part of a wider problem with technology. At the institution I attend, Flinders University, mobile phone use is pervasive. It is demoralising to enter a seminar room where one is confronted with students all focusing upon their screens. There is no greeting. To say hello is often to interrupt. Naturally, this behaviour precludes any conversation about the subject being read. Or a polite inquiry about how it’s faring.

Once the seminar is over, attention routinely returns to the phone. This inhibits any opportunity for students to continue a conversation beyond the classroom. Students invariably go their own way.

Yes, the campus does provide many places for students to gather, catch up and discuss. In reality, though, this rarely happens. The campus is a collective of individuals very much operating in isolation. At times it is eerily quiet.

Campus is at times eerily quiet.

This sense of isolation is not relieved by data revealed in the recent national student survey. Flinders’ good ranking supports claims that the campus is a safe environment. Certainly, it is a lot safer than mainstream society. Yet the administration appears to adopt the default position of an unsafe setting. One is routinely confronted with signage about respectful behaviour, potential dangers and the availability of safe spaces. That, at least partly, explains why the campus is safe. Even so, its messaging is intrusive and in overdrive.

Of course, consideration for others, courtesy and safety are important issues. But give some credit to students, the vast majority of whom commence university with a decent set of core values. And behave as such.

The effect of such messaging, I would suggest, is twofold: it has the capacity to make the introverted or insecure student feel even more anxious – the reverse of what is intended.

And it can make the extroverted student unnaturally inhibited. This can make for stifled conversation between students. And it can make it more difficult to initiate them. Students are wary of being misunderstood. Eye contact is limited for fear of accusations of staring. Stand nearby other students for too long and you might be accused of lurking.

Naturally, the cost of this is limited social engagement. To try to make new friends on campus is a risky business. Many students simply don’t bother. And yet I am sure that many students would like a greater on-campus social network.

The vast majority of students are capable of taking risk while being prudent.

One senses that the university is almost chaperoning young people through their degrees. It’s akin to Victorian times of not being able to go on a date without a relative escorting you. Older friends tell me how they met their life partners on campus. And how they listened to bands in the bar late into the night and mixed freely.

Sure, there were some silly things that went on and I dare say some people found themselves in bad company. But it has to be better than the prophylactic life that the university currently offers. Social interaction always comes with risk. People disagree, people dislike and sometimes people offend. But social risk should be encouraged for its potential rewards. And the vast majority of students are capable of taking risk while being prudent. It all seems at odds to the rather inane Flinders’ motto of being fearless and encouraging fearless conversations.

I suppose people might ask why I stay enrolled. I do so because my course is excellent. The subject matter is engaging. My teachers are outstanding. They are enthusiastic and helpful. At times they go well beyond the call of duty. Moreover, when focusing on the topic at hand, my fellow students have worthwhile things to say. They are astute and polite. The campus tutorial ensues a vibrancy that it couldn’t possibly have online.

I anticipate that I will probably get a bit of blowback from the university administration. Perhaps it will ask for an “explain yourself”. But I’ll try to find the courage to face the consequences; to put aside my fears. Anyway, not to worry, any messaging will invariably come via the online mailing system.

Steven Skewes is graduate-entry letters student at Flinders University with a focus on English.