A rush back to campus is sowing distrust at universities
I work at a large public university, where I’m an associate dean responsible for faculty affairs in a college with 500 tenure-track, career-track and continuing-status faculty members. Since the advent of COVID-19 and physical distancing, alongside public announcements of a return to inperson teaching in the fall, I have heard from many faculty that they are reluctant to return to campus.
Their reasons include existing health concerns, such as being immunocompromised, as well as fears for their own safety and that of the people they live with and care for. Entire departments in my college have indicated their desire to continue teaching remotely, even while there is pressure from university leadership to aim for as many in-person courses as possible to satisfy student demand.
In addition to being an administrator, I am also the mother of an 18year old who is starting college in August — at the institution where I work. I have a deep and abiding investment in her safety and well-being, as well as the safety and well-being of those tasked with educating her. I, for one, do not believe students should expect to have the quintessential college experience this fall — though my daughter craves this after a frustrating senior year.
As part of return-to-campus plans, many universities across the country are requiring faculty and staff to consult human resources. In order to work remotely, in many instances, there must be evidence of a disability as defined by the Americans with Disabilities Act. Or, there must be documentation of a preexisting condition or elevated risk. It is not enough to at risk; there must be proof.
That is, in order to feel safe at work, employees must submit to bureaucratic processes that under the best of conditions are difficult to navigate and often ineffective. This is not to suggest that the ADA and other mechanisms to ensure employees’ rights are not valuable — they are. These protections were hard-won after a long struggle by disability and workers’ rights advocates.
And yet, for many faculty and staff, returning to campus or not isn’t only about bodies, health and risk. It is also about trust. Or, rather,
Many faculty I know and work with, at my own institution and across the country, trust neither undergraduates to follow rules of masking and distancing nor senior leadership to put the well-being of faculty, staff and students above the bottom line.
It is true that higher education will look different after COVID-19. Some universities and colleges will make it; others may not. But to suggest, as some have, that we are merely responding to the virus elides the everyday decisions and actions of university leaders — the human factor — that can make or break a university. And, that can cultivate trust or seed distrust.
It is possible to quantify distrust — we could survey our faculty and staff, as some institutions have done. But it is far more challenging to quantify and document the unease, and in some instances terror, felt by faculty and staff as they contemplate a possible forced return to work in the midst of a pandemic. Unsurprisingly, this unease is stratified; the least powerful face the most risk.
My faculty, regardless of their status, have told me they are worried and afraid. Many are afraid of becoming sicker than they already are. This population includes cancer survivors, those with autoimmune diseases and anyone with an underlying or preexisting condition that deepens their risk. They are deathly afraid of bringing risk home to their children, partners, parents and neighbors.
Their fear is palpable, and it must be witnessed and addressed.
But underneath the fear, there is also a keen sense of betrayal. Once faculty, staff and graduate students have been asked to lay their bodies on the line for the institution, largely in service to revenue-generating enrollments, it is hard to step back. Trust broken is slowly, if ever, regained. This is especially so when trust is already eroded by reductions in the professoriate coupled with expansion of the administrative ranks.
I would rather my daughter be taught remotely this fall by any of our dedicated faculty who may regret having to do so virtually, but who are not resentful about being compelled to show up in person. And, I would prefer that senior leadership across the country put people first — especially those most at risk. This includes staff who make universities run effectively so that faculty can teach and students can learn.
Distrust is not a disability. But it is disabling. We can and should make better decisions with people’s bodies and lives.