We had the annual meeting for our community garden this morning, and like most large gatherings safely should be, ours was held virtually. So, at a little before 9 AM, I dutifully clicked on the link to the Zoom call, joining 65 other gardeners as we conducted the business of approving the budget and electing a slate of officers to lead the community through the next season. And I participated in the way I have become so familiar with over the last 8 months-- I replied in the chat and reacted with the built-in emojis.
Here's what I didn't do, though; I didn't turn on either my camera or my microphone. I wasn't alone, and of course, I couldn't help but think of my students who never show their faces. For this meeting, the organizers actually requested that we keep both off, unless we were speaking, so I didn't feel bad at all about lurking behind a simple black square with name on it.
Truth be told, I am a an immigrant to this land of virtual interaction, such things were literally science fiction when I was in school. That's my excuse, but the fact of the matter was, I didn't want to turn my camera on, and the people who had theirs on looked odd in that weird video call way: the awkward camera angle, the strange lighting, the distracting background. I didn't want any part of that.
And although my students are digital natives-- the first iPhone is older than most of them-- they still resist turning the camera on. I guess some things cross generations and citizenship, but it's really hard to teach those little glowing circles!
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