My friend sent this screenshot from a recent Zoom meeting. I need to stop apologizing for this smile!
Since my university moved to remote learning, most of the emails I receive from students begin the same way:
“I’m sorry…”
The sentences conclude with apologies for late work, lack of communication, dirty hair, tears, or a host of other imagined offenses.
I understand where they’re coming from, because I’m starting my own emails to them and my colleagues the same way. I’m sorry I haven’t graded your work yet. I’m sorry I haven’t uploaded the most recent class video. I’m sorry I’m dividing my days between teaching you and caring for my infant, and that she’s stealing the lion’s share of my time.
Yet every time I read this phrase, my heart breaks to think that students might be thinking any of this is somehow their fault, that they are somehow in the wrong or deficient in some way. This pandemic is outside all of our control. My response is so frequent that I’ve saved it on my computer so it can be easily copied and pasted:
Please delete "I'm sorry" from your vocabulary this semester. None of this is anyone's fault and we're all doing the best we can!
Of course, I deeply appreciate the politeness and respect of students’ gesture, and there are times where a genuine apology can be the bravest and kindest response. But that time is not now.
I’m reminded of a famous line from a movie from before my students’ time, and even before mine, which is set — of all places! — on a college campus. Throughout the classic film Love Story, spunky Harvard undergrad Jenny reminds her preppy boyfriend Oliver, “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” Her motto doesn’t apply in all situations — again, certain moments call for heartfelt repentance — but her truism certainly speaks to the nature of teaching and learning during the time of COVID-19. Released in the 1970, the movie’s themes of illness and overcoming class barriers to achieve an education are now amplified and being played out systematically on an international stage as health epidemics and financial collapse. Love Story focuses on emotions shared by a heterosexual pair of star-crossed students, but since entering Higher Education I’ve become attentive to the many different kinds of love that exist on our campuses and that transcend them remotely.
I’ve been overwhelmed the past few weeks by the torrent of opinion pieces talking about teaching remotely during times of crisis, and it’s hard to imagine this humble professor has anything to add to this chorus of experts. But I do have one thing to share, and it’s this.
I’m sorry.
I mean, I love you.
Sarah