6 minute read
The Zen of Zoom
BY FIDELINDO LIM, DNP, CCRN
The onslaught of COVID-19 caused considerable havoc to work-life balance. As essential workers continued to physically report to work, countless others, including myself (I am a fulltime faculty), sheltered and worked in place. Overnight, I became a naturalized citizen of Zoomland—the one place coronavirus has not reached. Like any newcomer to an unfamiliar “space,” I was both getting disoriented and lost, often stopping to stare (or glare), to make some sense at sign-posts such as breakout rooms and share screen. After thirteen weeks of zooming, I can say that my new reality is not bad. It can even be very good, sometimes, considering the speed with which we have to adjust to a new normal.
Zoom! My Vocabulary Expands
One of the fascinating side effects of historic events is they expand people’s vocabulary. For example, the Bush and Gore election debacle of 2000 gave the English-speaking world the phrase “hanging chad” (a little piece of paper left dangling when you punch a hole in a card, and it doesn’t
But, oh how I miss those random visits by students. I am convinced it is during those unannounced friendly visits, unrelated to academic issues, that meaningful connection is forged between students and faculty.
punch the whole way). The current pandemic made ordinary citizens at ease in saying “ground glass opacities” and “contactless delivery” in everyday conversation. These with six windows, twice the size of my regular office, and with the company of a plump feline who loves sleeping behind the laptop while I zoom away. But, oh how I miss those had with students and alumni when they dropped by, not because they wanted something (although some came for the candies and chocolates I stock on my desk), but
days, the 14th century word “quarantine” is more than just a household name. It is now a lived experience.
As work moves online, the word “remote” is no longer just the modern-day magic wand— it has become a way of life. Add “remote” to any verb, and voila, you have coined a new phrase (e.g., remote teaching, remote concert) and possibly started a new social media trend. I am not suggesting that the world needs a pandemic to enhance our facility for language, but only to reflect on the idea that singular novel events accelerate all aspects of life, including language.
The Office Got Bigger and No One Came to Visit
The lockdown transformed my living room into an officeclass-conference room. Now, I work in a 10th floor “office” Can you imagine if the current pandemic took place in 1985? The socioeconomic toll, on top of the health devastation, would be much more catastrophic. Zoom and its ilk became our salvation and a means to an end.
random visits by students. I am convinced it is during those unannounced friendly visits, unrelated to academic issues, that meaningful connection is forged between students and faculty. Given that it is impractical to simulate an open-door policy via zoom, I offer virtual office hours, log on early before class, and leave late after class, allowing time for an informal chitchat and to listen to the life stories of students.
While waiting for the return of business-as-usual, I reminisce with fondness the many delightful Kaffeeklatsch I’ve simply because they wanted to have a conversation and a presence—the essence of all human bonds. In preparation for when we are back at baseline, I imagine to having “kind” office hours, not just “kind of” office hours.
Saved by Zoom
Can you imagine if the current pandemic took place in 1985? The socioeconomic toll, on top of the health devastation, would be much more catastrophic. Zoom and its ilk became our salvation and a means to an end. The internet
and all its splendor is by no means the panacea of what plagues human communication, but under the current circumstances, it is the best we have. In a recent Zoom presentation, I noticed that the internet connection was choppy. Every 15 minutes or so, I would be bumped offline for a few seconds. These instances allowed me to catch my breath (literally and figuratively) and refocus on what I was saying, giving me the opportunity to ask the audience if they had any questions. When connectivity was back, I took that opportunity to scan the audience screen and “see” faces, to look for engagement cues, meet someone’s gaze and connect.
Zoom was founded in 2011 by Eric S. Yuan, a Chineseborn engineer. According to its website, their mission is to make video communications frictionless. Frictionless? I wondered what kind of meetings Eric Yuan and his team have been to before. Meetings, in general, can be the bane of professional life. In spite of wellknown rules of engagement for “frictionless” meetings, we see their rampant disregard. To those with refractory texting compulsion, the Zoom option to turn off the camera adds a virtual cover for blatantly impolite and dreadfully annoying behaviors such as incessant texting during live meetings. I save myself distress, by not being an eyewitness to that. The mute button is there to remind us to not just disable the mic, but to reduce the internal chatter in our heads during meetings, and to know when to stop talking.
All in a Day’s Work
It was 9 o’clock on a Sunday. I polished my shoes, laid out a dress shirt on the bed, and tried to find a matching tie. Then, I put a pair of socks on top of the shoes. This is a ritual I’ve done for many years on the eve of teaching; it is almost automatic. Somehow, there is a meditative quality to preparing one’s attire ahead of time. And then, I realized, I was just going a few feet away, to sit in front of my laptop and Zoom. But, I got dressed anyhow. And still do for every remote teaching session I continue to do. I may have retreated during this quarantine, but I will not surrender doing what I consider important in professional comportment. Putting on a professional attire is a way for me to honor the teaching profession, a privilege not open to all. Dressing up is a way for me to show my respect for the efforts of my students who sit through with me for twelve sessions of two hours and forty-five minutes. I suspect the world is getting good at Zoom and its many variations. Ironically, we might actually be getting out of it, as we cautiously emerge from the pause and back to the regular playing field. This would be a welcome relief or prophylaxis for Zoom fatigue. Video conferencing, with all of its pixilation, out-of-synch audio, and the potential threat of Zoom-bombing is an idea whose time has come, for better or for worse. It has enabled nurses to transcend distance in
channeling empathy when it is needed most in time of quarantine. It has allowed providers to use one of the most powerful tools in health care—the therapeutic use of self. In spite of the pandemic, Zoom allowed me to continue to do what I love most: teaching. And for that I am most grateful.
