All eyes on me (or are they?)

No I haven’t lectured before but I’ve been performing on stage since I was 5 years old.

This is what I answered when asked if I had lectured before, during the interview for my lecturing post at TU (my first job). Looking back I’m quite surprised at how spot on my response was as an observation (especially for someone with so little experience!). It’s something I was reminded of this week, as I prepared for my first online lecture. And so…

Observation #2: Lecturing is a Performance Art

Those who know me know that I sing a fair bit. And I wasn’t fibbing when I said I started performing as a 5 year old (There’s a Hole in My Bucket, in case you were wondering). Performing on stage is a process:

    1. Prepare (your performance)
    2. Practise (until perfect)
    3. Connect (with your audience)
    4. Command (the stage)

The same could be said about lecturing…at least the way I do it. I relish the challenge of coming up with ways to hold my students’ attention for a full hour or two. I get a kick out of seeing their faces when a complex idea finally clicks. And I love walking around the room, waving my arms wildly as I share my passion for my subject (although that may have less to do with lecturing and more to do with me not knowing what to do with my arms!).

Now, stick me in front of a computer and ask me to do an online lecture, and what happens? Steps #1 and #2 of my performance process might still work, but how does one connect with an audience they can’t see? Are they paying attention? Do they understand what I’m saying? Are they still online? Oops I’ve lost my place. D’oh!

Then there’s commanding the stage…how can I do that when I’m chained to a chair, staring at a laptop? And it’s not just my limbs I have to worry about. There’s a reason you have a rehearsal, a dress rehearsal, and a performance – you need to look (and feel) the part. So what’s the rule on wearing make-up to give an online lecture at the dining table?

Sadly only Beyonce wakes up flawless.

Reflecting on my online lecturing experience, I realise now how much I depend on body language during my lectures (both mine and that of my students). Without it, I felt lost. I’m sure I’ll figure out a substitute with time but it was an interesting revelation nonetheless. It was also proof that whilst there’s definitely a place in this world for online learning, nothing beats the real thing.

I’ll leave you with another tune that’s been stuck in my head, a perfect accompaniment to this beautiful weather we’ve been having. In case anyone thought yesterday’s jazz was my usual fare, I’m sorry to disappoint (not really)!

 

Hi, can you hear me?

I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve heard / used this phrase this week…and it’s only Wednesday! COVID-19 has plunged the entire world into the deep end of the remote working pool and we’re all desperately trying not to drown…

…which is why I’ve started this blog. All these random observations, anecdotes and tips on the dash to online lecturing that are currently swimming around in my head are serving no purpose other than to keep me from sleeping. They’re far better shared with the universe in the remote chance someone finds them useful. So here goes…

Observation #1: It feels like the first day of school

I’ve been lecturing for over 8 years now (OK, still a baby compared to some) and I’ve always felt quite confident about it. And I like to think of myself as an early adopter of L&T tech in my department. So online lecturing should be a breeze, yeah? HAHAHAHA no. I did my first online lecture yesterday and I haven’t felt that nervous since my first lecture ever. I’ll go into the specifics of the lecture itself in another post but I really wasn’t expecting to feel that way going into it. It was a reminder for me that no matter how proficient we think we are in something, there will always be experiences that take us out of our comfort zone and catch us off guard. Instead of shying away from these experiences we should embrace them in all their butterfly-inducing glory, and our lives will be that much richer for it.

In the spirit of sharing something cheerful in these difficult times, I’ll close with an earworm that’s been stuck in my head for days (apologies to my neighbours who’ve had to listen to my Nina Simone impression on repeat):

Until next time…