Pedagogy of Claustrophobia

I am writing this on my eyePad in my backyard (spelling error on purpose because I do not need the advertbots). This bit of information is important to the context of this post and also to the context of my work/life balance (it’s not really working if it is done outside right?). 

The topic of this post was brought on by the many tweets and articles this week about the intention of putting plexiglass in lecturehalls in the fall at some institutions as a means of protection for the instructors (and I suppose?) the students, but that is less clear. As soon as I saw the first plexiglass article I thought, oh my goodness how claustrophobic. Not oh my goodness I am glad someone is thinking of safety, not well at least they sort of thought outside the box on this one, no my first reaction was this fear of enclosure, of being trapped in an already confined space. So I am writing this outside, literally in the middle of my yard. I can feel the sun, I can hear the birds, I can breathe the air. I sit in the middle of the yard so that I am as distanced from my neighbours on both sides as I can while still having a bit of shade for my very burn prone skin. 

So they are going to put plexiglass in the lecture hall. Some tweeted out a few days ago, so who is working on a pedagogy of the plexiglassed, and I will say that my thoughts were already there many days previous. It started with me trying to find synonyms to oppressed that would fit this plexiglass situation, as both an homage to Freire but also speaking to the oppression that one would feel having to teach in such a situation, and also to learn in such an environment. Finding no suitable alternative to oppression, I returned to my original thought of the claustrophobia of the situation. 

The etymology of claustrophobia is from “a fear of cloisters” or “a fear of being bolted in.” Cloisters, for those of you who are following along, are covered walkways usually found in monasteries and often at universities and colleges. Perfect. Yes having plexiglass in a lecture hall would definitely embody a pedagogy of claustrophia, a fear of even being in a higher educational environment at such a time. The plexiglass would provide something rather permanent in a space that should have some flexibility and fluidity in order to support engagement. Plexiglass would tether the teaching, and tether the educator to one space for fear of contamination. What a series of contrasts to have plexiglass in a classroom, where this concept of lecturing is a continuation of very old educational models. Models that seem to have the same kind of permanence as some older university and college architecture. How fitting, that in a place of permanence, they would put something permanent, that would permanently fix an educator, to permanently teach in a lecture style way, behind a lecturn. Permanence. The permanent pedagogy of plexiglass. 

So next I think (in the wee hours of the morning when I should be sleeping), how can a pedagogy of claustrophobia intersect with a social constructivist informed pedagogy? How can one feel comfortable to share one’s positionality, share resources related to the topic of the course in a space where the ability to physically engage is distanced. Is this not the same as lecture halls with those horrible body-type dependent swing-out chairs (and it is never a 280lb body type to be sure, and it is never a wheelchair using body type)? Yes, in some ways it very much is the same. Maybe the plexiglass is the sort of Darwinian progression of the lecture hall with swing-out chairs. Why should the educator have mobility or accessibility when the students don’t? 

And how are the plexiglass lecture halls any different to the Brady Bunchesque lecturing and video meetings instructors are doing now? Sure in some ways it isn’t, but yet it feels so very very different. There’s distancing, and then there’s distancing you know? Is a pedagogy of claustrophobia the new normal? In a time where it is so very important to think about trauma-informed pedagogical practices, how can being in a room with plexiglass support the kind of exchange of ideas that higher educational spaces are supposed to be known for? It’s my hope that someone, somewhere will think of the optics and the acoustics of something like this, both literally and figuratively, and maybe realize that now is not the time to be distancing ourselves even further in this way. Remote learning is not ideal if it is not designed properly, but plexiglassU is not the solution to continuing education in a pandemic.