I have a soft spot in my heart for things related to campus life. There’s something “cool” about those years you spend learning things while doing crumby part-time lobs and hanging out with your friends. And in more recent years, Hilary and I have wandered over from time to time to see a play or an opera staged by the music department. I've attended a few programs hosted by the Carlson School of Business, the Heller School of Economics, and the English Department. I taught a class on the St. Paul Campus for several years as part of their Compleat Scholar program. And now that I think about it, I was once invited to join the programming committee for the West Bank Film Society.
So when I received an email from the University of Massachusetts/Boston inviting me to join a focus group to discuss ways campuses can “engage with older adults in the community” and “foster intergenerational interactions,” I signed up. Why not? The meeting would only take an hour, and I would receive a $50 Amazon gift card as a reward for my efforts.
I was a little proud of myself for noting that the meeting was scheduled in Eastern Daylight Time. That meant that the 2 p.m. Zoom session would be starting at 1. But when I tuned in, the session was almost over. The moderator invited me to return in an hour, when a second session was scheduled to start. That gave me time to refer back to the original email invitation, which specified Fri, May 22, 1:00 – 2:00 EDT. My mistake. (Perhaps this faux pas established my bona fides as an elderly person struggling to come to grips with the complexities of the modern campus world.)
I was surprised to discover, in any case, that both of the
sessions—the one I’d missed and the one I attended—were made up entirely of
women, all of whom were employed at college campuses in Massachusetts. Quite a
few of them seemed to know each other personally. It struck me as odd that they
were all academics or administrators. None were average citizens expressing concerns about campus
access--the things that the panel was purporting to address.
Except me.
The facilitator was articulate and well-organized. She had drawn up a series of questions, and also mentioned how much time she planned to devote to each—five or ten minutes—before initiating discussion. The questions were broad, on the order of “How can colleges and universities support accessibility, navigation, mobility, and safety for all ages on campus?” and “What discourages or prevents older learners from coming to campuses?” Within the confines of the time limit, our answers were inevitably superficial. Concerns about crime? Better campus lighting, more cops. Navigation? Kiosks with maps. Parking? Take a bus. And so on.
The section that seemed most fruitful to me explored ways to
connect older students to academia by scheduling classes and events off-campus.
Although I tried to maintain a low profile during the discussion, I couldn’t
resist mentioning the Osher Lifetime Learning Institute, which supports
learning programs at more than 250 universities around the country, with
classes held in local churches, high schools, libraries, and online. I also
mentioned the numerous readings and educational programs hosted within our local Hennepin
County Library System, and the city-wide system of motorized scooters that make
it easier for older adults to traverse the sprawling U of MM campuses.
(The idea of older people riding around on scooters may
sound absurd, but in the minds of the panelists, a twenty-five year old would
be considered an “older” returning adult. Anyway, isn't this a prime examle of the much encourgaed "thinking outside the box"?)
With about three minutes left in the hour, someone brought
up the issue of Zoom classes, which obviate the challenges involved in
negotiating a college campus entirely. “I think they’re great.” I chimed in. Someone countered with a remark on the order
of “but then you miss the interactions between student and teacher and among
the students themselves.”
“That’s true to some extent,” I said. “But in the classes I
teach on Zoom, there’s a lot of useful interaction going on between students in
the chat—questions being answered, enthusiasms being shared. Far more than in a "live" classroom. And everyone has
the opportunity to email me directly after class with questions,
observations, or challenges to my remarks.”
I might have gone on to observe that quite a few people in my classes would never dream of leaving their assisted living arrangements to attend a class ten (or two hundred) miles away on a 400-acre campus serving 50,000 students. In my most recent class there were students from as far away as Crosby and Lac Qui Parle.
What I did says was: “More than 160 people registered for my
most recent class. You’re unlikely to reach a third of that total in a college
classroom.”
I might also have mentioned, as an aside, that Luther Seminary, after more
than a century of operation in the beautiful St. Paul neighborhood of St.
Anthony Park, now plans to sell its entire campus and reincarnate itself as a more lean and
nimble institution, responding to the reality that even now 70 percent of its students attend mostly online.
So many avenues to explore, so little time!
The question that remained most forcibly in my mind as I
switched off the Zoom portal was this: to what extent, in its efforts to expand
inclusiveness and nurture “community,” is the university willing to shed its
dedication to "higher" education and refashion itself as a purveyor of community
ed?
Any professional educator will confirm that learning styles
differ from person to person. At the U of MN, anyone over the age of 62 can
audit courses for free and earn credits for only $20 apiece. That’s a good
deal, though it doesn’t appeal to me much. I don’t need credits at this late
date. And although some professors can be inspiring, my eight years on campus convinced me that most of them aren’t. In many cases, I’d rather read a book.
My plan, all along, had been to devote my $50 Amazon credit to buying books that I might otherwise have shied away from as too esoteric, too expensive, too dense. The books I chose were Transcendence for Beginners by Clare Carlisle, What’s Eating the Universe by Paul Davies, and Leave Me Alone and I'll Make You Rich: How to Bourgeoise Deal Enriched the World, by Deirdre McCloskey. That should keep me occupied for a while.
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