Instructional Design and EdTech ePortfolio

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Boston skyscrapers

Moving to Boston to start working on campus

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I’ve been working in edtech at BU for the past six months, having started remotely last January. Exactly five years after I arrived in DC, on the 4th of July, I moved to Boston. Three days later my office ID was activated and I sat at my work desk for the first time.

Like many higher ed institutions, BU called on its faculty, staff, and students (insert link) to return to campus this fall semester. Faculty and staff at the medical campus where I work meanwhile started to return this July. This could provide a preview into how offices might look like for Charles River Campus and perhaps other campuses as they open in a few months and as we emerge from the pandemic, barring any pockets of outbreak.

As a university staff member who started my job remotely, I may not have a full idea of how the “before times” looked like in my new workplace. Despite this, as I and the rest of our department’s staff prepared to report to work in-person, we’ve met to discuss and anticipate anxieties and adjustments in our shared work space. Our instructional technologists, in fact, have been coming to work since July 2020 to provide on site tech support to faculty in classrooms and conference rooms. Implementing social distancing back then was more manageable with fewer staff coming to work and working in shifts. 

There are no in-person meetings yet as some faculty and staff are still working remotely, or at least not yet ready to meet in-person. Thus, Zoom is still the default mode of communication. And in our shared workspace, hearing my colleagues’ voices live and then on my earphones a microsecond later is slightly off-putting. Meanwhile, in other virtual meetings, my mic can pick up conversations happening around me. On the flipside, I hear my colleagues’ Zoom conversations while I’m trying to focus on my work. On my second week, one colleague I’ve only met on Zoom called out my name to say hi, and because she only saw my back, she did not notice I was actually on a Zoom call. I just waved at her, and pointed to my computer screen filled with faces and names in rectangular boxes.

In a Zoom meeting, we thought about ways to address these missteps and inconveniences by setting new norms in shared spaces. One colleague suggested putting up red Post-its or cups, like an analog “On Air” sign to minimize distractions. But this does not solve the noise leakage from others and me. Another potential solution is to conduct the Zoom calls/online trainings in an empty conference room or private booth like those found in co-working spaces. This presupposes working on a laptop that’s portable to use from one workspace to another. Fortunately, trainings I’ve conducted have coincided with my work from home schedule.

It’s my first time to wear masks indoors for an extended period of time, and breathing is unpleasant. To cope with this, I bring extra masks to replace it when it starts to feel grimy, and I take periodic breaks and step out of the building to get some fresh air – the pandemic version of a non-smoker’s cigarette break.

Because of the nature of my work, I’m somewhat privileged to have a hybrid work arrangement, from home on some days and in the office on others, a good balance that keeps my schedule interesting. Whether it’s the most efficient way to work is still a question that needs to be answered, considering most of my tasks are doable online, though this might change as more classes are held on campus. I technically work under the IT department, which has a longstanding remote work arrangement, and has since been reinforced by the President’s university-wide policy. At the moment, I have no fixed schedule, but for sure we (in my smaller team) will have a better sense of on-site support necessary as more faculty, staff, and students return to campus.

Looking beyond a few months or even weeks to what offices will be like is challenging. It seems for every proposal on new ways of working or office adaptation, there seems to be an equivalent and unintended difficulty or disruption. It’s a constant reminder that we are still in the middle of a pandemic, and that we shouldn’t let our guard down.

For many, returning to the office means dusting off keyboards and seeing familiar faces again. Having started work remotely, I feel a deja vu of sorts, that I’ve met my colleagues from somewhere. Amid mask mandates, weekly nasal swabs, and daily symptom attestations, whether coming back to campus after over a year or stepping in for the first time, everyone is trying their best to give our work and life a semblance of normalcy, even as we struggle to define what normal is.

Charles River with Boston skyline in the background

Searching for a job and starting a new career in edtech remotely during the pandemic

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Almost two weeks ago in late February, I celebrated a milestone of sorts, my first month at my new job, and a new career in higher education and technology. Just combine those two fields and you’ll come up with my job title – Educational Technologist – at Boston University Medical Campus. As in most new beginnings, starting this new position and career have had its fair share of ups and downs. The pandemic and subsequent remote-ification of work have made the mechanics of the transition all the more unique, from the job application process all the way to hiring, onboarding, and of course, work itself.

Even before the pandemic, I’ve mostly relied on online job boards, like internal ones for short-term gigs while I was working at the World Bank. My approach this time is mostly the same, only now I had to search on other social media networks like LinkedIn and Facebook groups for instructional designers. In the early stages of my job search, a classmate who also teaches at Georgetown mentioned HigherEdjobs.com, which is probably my favorite platform for opportunities specific to – you guessed it, higher ed – which offers features for tracking applications, resume versions, and alerts and reminders built into the portal. On occasion, friends and acquaintances also sent me job openings, one of which I now hold.

Perhaps I most benefited from the virtual exodus to Zoom when I started fielding interviews, both informational and formal ones. I got to chat with professionals who work at a private company, a non-profit, and even global brands such as HBO and Harvard University, and were located in New Hampshire, Baltimore, New Jersey, and Boston. Except for one, all were held via Zoom, which has become the default means of synchronous communication in professional settings. Then came the real thing: job interviews.

I started getting invited to interviews during the last two months of my final semester. While the majority of the universities were located in the Washington DC, area, the convenience of holding all of them on Zoom was still undeniable — both for the interviewers and for me. Some of the institutions were located at least an hour away from where I live. Traveling to Boston, meanwhile, would have been costly and disruptive to my academics had the series of interviews been in-person. I even had three different interviews in one day, including one in Boston, which is probably the closest to teleportation I can get. And since a good internet connection was and is still a must, I went as far as booking a private room in a co-working space in Georgetown. The office space and the rideshare expenses were very much worth the peace of mind I got from eliminating the risk of getting disconnected in the middle of my two portfolio presentations. I’m not new to job interviews conducted remotely. About a decade ago, I interviewed by phone all the way from Hamburg for the first job that eventually brought me to Washington DC. By the end of this year’s job search cycle, I had participated in a total of 14 interviews, most of them Zoom calls.

When the time came to work – just a month after I was hired – Zoom became my de facto office space. On my first day of work, I put on what I thought could pass for office attire, a collared shirt and comfortable pair of pants, and logged on to Zoom for the three-hour staff onboarding. Later, team meetings and my core tasks of training faculty to set up LMS and assessment tools and helping students troubleshoot Examplify were all done via Zoom. 

I still find it odd that I have formed some degree of professional relationships with my colleagues, people I haven’t met in person, all of whom live in the Boston area. I also try to attend professional events and meetings so I can stay engaged with my work place. This Zoom-centric work environment may not come as a surprise in the new industry I’m joining. Edtech lends itself naturally to remote work, as we promote tools and technologies that allow learning to continue whether in the classroom or online, a career made all the more essential due to the perils of the pandemic.

We are one year into the pandemic. This means for the past year many of us have been studying and working remotely, living socially-distanced, and holing up in our dwellings. Many believe this is our new normal. While I have gotten used to doing minimal prep work in the morning and skipping a morning commute before I boot up my computer to log on to Zoom, I look forward to taking the T and settling into my new work station someday.

Spending the second half of spring semester online

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My classes ended in late April, and after handing in a final project due yesterday, my second semester in graduate school is officially over.

But I and the rest of the students around the world have physically stopped going to our classrooms sometime in late February or early March, depending on when COVID-19 started to spread in our community. At Georgetown, my classmates and I bid our goodbyes and well wishes for the spring break, with that uncomfortable feeling of probably not seeing each other again and returning to our classrooms for an indefinite period of time. We should have listened to one professor who nudged us to meet in our classroom that one time he only joined via Zoom, preempting the university might make the call to close the campus soon. We saw each other again after the spring break, but only as little rectangles on our computer screen.

The first week felt familiar and new at the same time. Even before we moved online, anyone in my class can opt to Zoom in. Our classroom is equipped with built-in microphones, cameras, and robotic arms that enhance telepresence. One classmate is based in Arizona and doing our program online full-time.

She said it was actually a much better experience for her now that everyone is online, whereas there were times when it was difficult for her to jump into the classroom discussions before. Instructors also faced orchestration challenges when they had to moderate both in-person and online discussions. We’re fortunate to have a dedicated graduate associate who oversees the tech for us.

Yet it was still odd to see everyone’s faces, including our professor’s, in one of those now-ubiquitous boxes in a Zoom room. I have this habit of arriving early in a classroom so I can settle down and ease myself into an “academic mindset.” Doing the same online makes me feel I clicked on the wrong link and entered the wrong Zoom room when I see I’m the only participant. Also, it is very easy to get distracted, open a new browser, and get lost in that parallel online portal, as if checking and refreshing a news site incessantly would yield some good news about the pandemic. 

One time, I got paired up with a classmate and fellow graduate associate in a breakout group, and we chatted how we were both coping with the situation. We talked about what we miss the most, and we agreed that we’ve lost that sense of accountability, asking each other if we’ve read this paper or finished that assignment. It’s one of those spontaneous interactions that are difficult if not impossible to replicate online.

I’ve learned to delineate the space (I bought a compact computer desk!) and time for work, classes, and rest. It hasn’t been easy in the confines of my studio apartment, when on some days there are back-to-back online meetings and classes. In addition to my screen time that has gone off the charts, perhaps what I like the least is the absence of that friendly chit chat after class, as we start packing our laptops and zipping our bags, which has been replaced by that sudden quiet and disconnect once I click the “Leave Meeting” button.

Two months later, I’ve only seen our school building twice, outside, during a couple of early morning walks when I retraced my usual route to campus that I took for granted and now terribly miss. Everything is still up in the air on how classes for Fall 2020 will look like. Fully online, Hyflex, or in-person? I just finished my final paper for one of my core courses, University as a Design Problem, where I examined how socialization might look like for first year students this coming Fall 2020. It’s based on a combination of a HyFlex and low-density scenario, and a few recommendations that aim to redefine the first year experience. I know it’s a tough sell, but choosing the topic is perhaps a part of me hoping that we’ll gain a sense of normalcy in the coming semester.

But for now all we can do is wait and see, and give ourselves a pat in the back, whether you’re a faculty, staff or student, for making it through the semester. In the meantime, I continue to work at CNDLS, now helping trouble-shoot the university’s summer online courses. Last Monday, I savored the semester break between finishing a draft of my final paper and starting my summer course on Gaming, Design, and Education – all eight hours of it.

Photo credit: mwinkler via Unsplash

Moving to online learning after spring break

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A week has passed after spring break, but none of my classmates, professors, and other staff has set foot on campus again, not only in Georgetown, but in many if not all colleges and K-12 schools all over the US, maybe even the world.

Transitioning to online classes shouldn’t be a struggle. I’ve had work from home and remote work arrangements before. And our classes – part of a graduate program in learning, design, and technology – are not foreign to remote and virtual learning environments. Online learning should be coming naturally, both in theory and practice. Just last week, I sent in a mid-term paper on online learning and Biesta’s purposes of education.

But there I was missing assignment deadlines and appreciating the fact that some of my professors have dialed back on assigning readings this past week. Perhaps it was from finishing a paper over spring break. Or more likely, I’ve put priority on shadowing colleagues as we held office hours during work days for faculty. Then I picked up shifts for office hours to assist faculty move their teaching online and work their way around Canvas and Zoom, via Zoom.

I didn’t plan to work over the break, having looked forward to it only three weeks in the new semester. But I saw it coming. My office has been holding meetings days before the break, bracing for the onslaught of this monstrous wave, watching it from the opposite shore as it approached our way. It arrived by way of an email from the university president, first for a couple of weeks, and later for the rest of the semester.

Most faculty will have taught their first classes post-spring break by now. The classes are by no means expected to be perfect versions of their classroom counterpart. Debates are still going on in education institutions whether to shift to pass or fail, synchronous or asynchronous, or whether to continue or stop teaching altogether in this unsettling time. 

I looked forward to my classes this past week, a welcome diversion that gave me the slightest sense of normalcy, where for a couple of hours we were able to gather and see familiar faces to talk about learning, higher education, education technology, their confluence and multifaceted challenges, as we have been doing in the past seven months. It wasn’t much of a form of escape. It was a short circuit in our graduate program, and the world, as we are now living through the very topics and challenges in higher ed that we have been discussing all along.

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