The Province

Students grapple with changes to higher education

Paying the same fees, they face closed schools, dodgy online learning, and no campus life

- DOUGLAS TODD

Classrooms in communitie­s. Communitie­s in classrooms.

The motto of the downtown Vancouver campus of Simon Fraser University — a promise to bring education directly to the people — blazes across the giant street-corner window of its library. But in these days of pandemic, the aspiration reads like an artifact of the past.

The once-welcoming doors to higher education are literally locked at SFU’s towering Harbour Centre, elegant Wosk Centre for Dialogue and stately Beedie school of business. A number of small private English-language colleges in the same downtown vicinity look even bleaker.

Strict COVID-19 warning signs pockmark almost every educationa­l window in this downtown zone. Campus entryways are grey and grimy. Some language-college windows are smashed and barred. There are more security guards than anyone else.

This once-hot urban neighbourh­ood of public and private post-secondary institutio­ns, centred around Hastings and Richards, serves as a harsh reminder that higher education is embattled by the COVID-19 crisis.

The vast majority of learning and teaching that remains is now online and will continue that way this fall and possibly beyond — the opposite of in-person, hands-on and community-rooted, which has been the pedagogica­l ideal.

It’s almost impossible to find a student in this dense downtown educationa­l zone, which once teemed with thousands of young people from across Canada and around the world who packed the coffee shops, low-cost eateries and sometimes the cannabis dispensari­es.

After Postmedia approached enough strangers to find an actual student, an engaging 23-year-old who identified himself as Chintan from India said he wished SFU would again open its doors to more classes, seminars, faculty meetings and labs.

“Right now, it’s not a very good experience. We’re not allowed to teach or learn in person,” said Chintan, who aims to finish his master’s program at SFU by the end of the year and then apply for Canada’s coveted three-year visa, called the postgradua­te work permit.

“They should open up the campuses. I don’t think it does any harm,” Chintan said. “And they’re not lowering fees. I think they should.”

Higher education in the West has increasing­ly relied on two things that public-health officials basically forbid because of the coronaviru­s: people gathering in large groups and laissez-faire internatio­nal travel.

Administra­tors have responded by moving online the vast majority of classes, even most of those enrolling fewer than 50, offering them to young people peppered in all corners of the world through Zoom, teleconfer­encing and streaming. Instructor­s are scrambling to handle the technology, with mixed success. And despite the elevated risk for cheating, students are writing machine-accessible exams from their bedrooms.

While tens of thousands of Canadian students have already returned to attending K-12 classes in school buildings, and restaurant­s, hotels and other venues are opening, at least in part, higher education is among those remaining most restrictiv­e and, pardon the pun, remote.

Faculty across North America are under once-unheard-of pressure to provide online lectures, tutorials and sometimes even tests in an “asynchrono­us” manner — which means not in real time, or out of sync.

A key reason administra­tors are calling on faculty to move away from real-time education is that daylight hours in B.C. are much different than daylight hours in India, China, France, Brazil or Halifax, where tens of thousands of students are trying to complete their programs. They don’t want real-time lectures and interactiv­e workshops in the middle of their night.

With airports virtually closed to most non-Canadian travellers, both the federal Liberal government and post-secondary administra­tors are pulling out the stops to find ways to hold on to as many as they can of the 642,000 foreign students the country hosted at the end of 2019, half of whom attended private colleges.

Lachlan Williams, a University of B.C. engineerin­g student, is one of Canada’s more than two-million post-secondary students who are not amused at how education is being attenuated.

He says the decision to go ahead with long-distance education — while forbidding not only all large classes this fall, but most labs, tutorials and group projects in the name of safety — seems mostly like an attempt to “take advantage of a bad situation.”

With most institutio­ns of higher learning feeling like abandoned towns, Caitlin Barker, who is not returning in person in September to Queen’s University in Kingston, Ont., says it’s a “bummer” to be forced to do much of her four-year undergradu­ate program from afar.

The third-year political science student will instead stay in her parents’ Vancouver house and take her courses online, at least until Christmas, even while she and her fellow students have already grown tired of the way some professors fumble to put together online PowerPoint presentati­ons.

Mostly Barker misses the full-blooded Queen’s campus scene, with its pubs, coffee shops and friendship­s.

She had been almost thrilled by the sense of personal autonomy, vibrant peer discussion­s and collective motivation that went with making a go of it in the world on her own.

Now, Barker will be confined to computer-screen learning in the family home. While it might work for some, she says, “I zone out a lot. I can’t watch a screen for a long time without going into my own world.”

STUDENTS TRY TO REDEEM A SHRINKING EXPERIENCE

These students’ worries echo at a large scale. A Canadian Associatio­n of Universiti­es Teachers survey found one of three domestic students intend to take a break from school because of COVID-19 lockdowns. Half say it’s devastated their finances. And three in four worry the response to the coronaviru­s has “created a poor learning environmen­t.”

Smaller colleges and universiti­es appear most threatened.

Robert Zemsky, who co-wrote a book about woes in higher education, predicts the pandemic will contribute to 20 per cent of North America’s post-secondary institutio­ns, especially the private ones, being forced to close.

Even though fallout is severe in Canada, COVID-19 tensions appear even more elevated in the litigious U.S., where more than 130 class-action lawsuits have been filed against post-secondary institutio­ns, demanding compensati­on for “substandar­d educations.”

Despite the diminishme­nt, few signs exist that colleges or universiti­es are lowering their fees. Indeed, many Canadian institutio­ns are slightly raising fees for domestic and internatio­nal students. Since no college or university wants to be seen as one of the less popular ones, they are also tending to play it coy about how many applicatio­ns they’re getting.

SFU and the University of B.C. are going ahead with scheduled fee increases for 2020-21 of roughly two per cent for domestic students and four per cent for internatio­nal students. North Vancouver’s Capilano University said it’s keeping fees the same as last year.

Neither of B.C.’s two biggest universiti­es has laid off faculty or staff due to COVID-19. UBC and SFU also maintain that, even though it’s too early to be definitive about enrolment levels, applicatio­ns for the fall are consistent with previous years. Capilano University did not provide data on either staffing or enrolment.

Meanwhile, Canadian administra­tors and faculty are clambering to redeem what they can of students’ ruptured encounter with higher education.

SFU provost Jon Driver maintains the decision to stay largely with online instructio­n in the fall “creates certainty for students and instructor­s, safety for those with higher levels of health risks, and access to learning for students who cannot travel to B.C. at this time.”

Provosts from seven public B.C. universiti­es, including Driver, joined forces this month to publish an “open letter” promising would-be foreign and domestic students that, even in these uncertain times, the educationa­l experience will be rich. Possibly some selected small classes will be in person.

The provosts maintain largely remote education will provide “opportunit­ies to explore different forms of communicat­ion, to engage with classmates and instructor­s in new and interestin­g ways, to build bridges to other cultures, and to experience the opportunit­ies that technology can provide in connecting people, issues, and ideas.”

INTERNATIO­NAL-STUDENT POLICY’S IMPACT

Williams, the UBC engineerin­g student, however, is not alone in worrying that post-secondary institutio­ns are forging ahead with online learning because they can still generate revenue while their physical doors, to a great extent, are closed.

“Perhaps this decision was made to level the playing field for all students, domestic and internatio­nal alike,” Williams wrote in a comment piece in The Vancouver Sun.

It is so unfair we take their money and we don’t offer them enough.”

Jessie Smith

“But why should domestic students’ educations suffer because internatio­nal students took the risk that comes with studying abroad? In-person learning should be available for those students able to return. Students surely would accept … physical distancing and streaming of large lectures.”

The turmoil is forcing educators and students to do a great deal of complicate­d adjusting, innovating and jockeying — all adding up to a virtual revolution in higher education, at least for the near future.

The federal Liberals are doing everything they can to limit the damage, by keeping internatio­nal-student money flowing. Cabinet ministers often boast foreign students bring $22 billion annually into the economy, with at least $6 billion in fees going directly to public and private educationa­l institutio­ns.

Foreign students account for one in four new university undergradu­ates in the country, says Statistics Canada. Administra­tors suggest foreign-student fees, which are typically four times those paid by domestic students, are a key reason they don’t have to raise more money from locals.

Since foreign students typically contribute as much or more than local students to many institutio­ns’ coffers, it’s not a surprise many believe the decision to stick predominan­tly to online learning is in part to avoid alienating those on study visas.

Shinder Purewal, a Kwantlen Polytechni­c University political scientist, says his school “relies so much on internatio­nal students that it would collapse as an institutio­n without their money.”

It’s no wonder, Purewal said, “the KPU administra­tion only thinks about the convenienc­e of internatio­nal students at the expense of domestic students, faculty and academic integrity.”

As at KPU, administra­tors across the country are striving to make sure visa students who remain in India, China, France, Brazil, Vietnam, the U.S. and elsewhere will end up getting basically the same experience as domestic students.

KPU originally ordered all fall courses to go online in an asynchrono­us manner, said Purewal, explaining that such non-real-time educating requires “recording audiovideo lectures and then having them posted on a website accessible to students any time of the day or week.”

Kwantlen’s administra­tors, Purewal said, have even urged holding exams in non-real time, because “students registered in India are up at night by Canadian time, since Indian time is 12 hours ahead of Pacific standard time.” But, after pushback from Kwantlen’s faculty associatio­n, Purewal said the administra­tion agreed to a process whereby all students would have to write exams on the same day at the same time. The potential for cheating, among other things, was high.

Australia is going a different route. In the midst of the pandemic, politician­s in Australia, which along with Canada has the highest proportion of foreign students per capita in the world, told foreign students to return to their homelands unless they could support themselves.

Prime Minister Justin Trudeau, in contrast, is vigorously wooing young people who are ready to pay $20,000 to $25,000 a year for the dream of studying in an English-language country.

Aware that Canadian studyvisa applicatio­ns have fallen by almost one-third since COVID-19 hit in March, Ottawa recently removed the cap on how many hours most foreign students can work while studying. The federal Liberals, in addition, changed policy so that up to a million foreign students, refugees and guest workers already in Canada

could apply for the Canada Emergency Response Benefit of $2,000 a month without providing proof of a work permit.

In late May, the Liberals also announced foreign students are permitted to complete 50 per cent of their overall studies outside Canada. Perhaps most importantl­y, Ottawa said such students will still be able to get a postgradua­te work permit for up to three years.

Ottawa has many reasons to make such unpreceden­ted welcoming gestures, judging by a survey by Shiksa, a major educationa­l organizati­on in India, whose inhabitant­s make up one-third of Canada’s foreign-student contingent. Shiksa found one in two Indians hoping to study abroad intended to defer their plans to travel to Canada.

‘WE’RE DOING THE BEST WE CAN’

Jessie Smith, a veteran Langara College humanities instructor, can understand the frustratio­n of students from India, who last year made up more than half of her institutio­n’s internatio­nal cohort of 6,500.

Recognizin­g internatio­nal students have been wooed in increasing­ly large numbers to make up for provincial government­s’ reduced funding, Smith joins many global specialist­s in saying the pandemic is proving how highrisk a gamble that has been. While some foreign students flourish, Smith said, others get hurt.

“Too often there is a huge chasm between the skills the internatio­nal students have when they arrive and the skills they need to succeed in post-secondary,” said Smith.

“It is so unfair we take their money and we don’t offer them enough. It’s a pedagogica­l nightmare to have students who can barely write a sentence, let alone write an essay, in the same class with students who deserve the rigours of a college education, but who suffer because faculty have to spend so much time with struggling students.”

This year’s COVID-19 restrictio­ns, Smith says, with their heavy emphasis on remote learning and high technology, have accelerate­d existing difficulti­es for all students.

Kieran Konst, a University of Northern B.C. student, is among those skeptical about the assurances he can get a great education during the pandemic.

“Many professors are uncomforta­ble with or untrained on using online systems and in some cases are unwilling to use them. In the most severe cases, they may even have difficulty using basic email,” Konst says.

“I have had classes with instructor­s who were uncomforta­ble with PowerPoint. And now they are being asked to teach via video conference? The reality is that educationa­l institutio­ns are going to have to find ways to ensure that the online value matches the price tag.”

One of the many thorny issues around mass online education relates to the heightened potential for cheating.

When Caitlin Barker had to do her final exam this spring after returning to Vancouver from Queen’s University, she, like countless others, had to endure the weird experience of having a security officer watch her by web camera for three hours while she sat in her bedroom completing the test.

Langara’s Smith understand­s the often-surreal nature of higher education during this pandemic. She knows domestic and foreign students, often under pressure to work to survive and frequently lacking technologi­cal resources, need faculty and staff to be more up to speed on everything that goes into making online learning valuable.

UBC, SFU and most institutio­ns, along with provincial government­s, say they’re trying to offer extra aid to students in regard to financing, counsellin­g and support. Will it be enough?

COVID-19 has brought a sea change to academia, shrinking the sphere fiscally and especially experienti­ally.

It’s made higher education’s continuing struggle for viability, relevance and affordabil­ity more acute than ever.

As Smith says of her Langara colleagues: “We’re doing the best we can. But it’s so painful to think about offering a course that is not up to our high standards.”

 ?? JASON PAYNE/PNG FILES ?? Caitlin Barker, seen with her brothers Ben and Matthew at their Vancouver home, says it’s a “bummer” to be forced to resume her Queen’s University courses online.
JASON PAYNE/PNG FILES Caitlin Barker, seen with her brothers Ben and Matthew at their Vancouver home, says it’s a “bummer” to be forced to resume her Queen’s University courses online.
 ?? RICHARD LAM ?? The reflection pond is full, but the Academic Quadrangle at SFU in Burnaby is empty. Students are paying their full fees despite not having access to the campus.
RICHARD LAM The reflection pond is full, but the Academic Quadrangle at SFU in Burnaby is empty. Students are paying their full fees despite not having access to the campus.
 ?? FRANCIS GEORGIAN/PNG ?? Shinder Purewal, a Kwantlen Polytechni­c University political scientist, says his school ‘relies so much on internatio­nal students that it would collapse as an institutio­n without their money.’
FRANCIS GEORGIAN/PNG Shinder Purewal, a Kwantlen Polytechni­c University political scientist, says his school ‘relies so much on internatio­nal students that it would collapse as an institutio­n without their money.’
 ?? RICHARD LAM/PNG ?? The fountain is empty out in front of the Main Library at UBC in Vancouver as the once-bustling campus remains shuttered under pandemic restrictio­ns. Students and teachers worry that distance education is not up to the standard of in-person instructio­n.
RICHARD LAM/PNG The fountain is empty out in front of the Main Library at UBC in Vancouver as the once-bustling campus remains shuttered under pandemic restrictio­ns. Students and teachers worry that distance education is not up to the standard of in-person instructio­n.

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