ROANOKE TIMES
Copyright (c) 1996, Roanoke Times
DATE: Saturday, May 11, 1996 TAG: 9605130017
SECTION: EDITORIAL PAGE: A-9 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: MATTHEW J. FRANCK
IT WAS nice of you to give free advertising space on your Commentary page to Old Dominion University President James V. Koch (April 23 commentary, ``A glimpse into the university of the future'') to tout ODU's ``Teletechnet'' program of ``distance learning.'' But before we enthusiastically embrace this vision of the future of higher education, a few of the virtues of traditional, on-campus classroom instruction ought to be remembered. Also, questions should be asked about the practical and pedagogical obstacles that the technology of video, satellites and the Internet will probably never overcome.
Let's review the salient features of the Teletechnet system, as Koch reported. Enrollment this year consisted of ``almost 7,000 student registrations,'' a number expected to grow in subsequent years. About 85 courses are offered in 24 locations at community colleges and business sites around the state, with 12 bachelor's and two master's degree programs available. The average age of students is 34, and the degree programs offered thus far appear to be vocational in nature, geared toward ``placebound working Virginians'' who seek educational credentials for career advancement.
Although Koch declares that all courses are ``delivered interactively by satellite transmission,'' there are at present only ``a few experimental sites'' where two-way television is used. At the others, ``students are able to see the professor, but not vice versa,'' though there are plans to upgrade to two-way video at all sites.
It's gratifying to see his concluding remark that Teletechnet ``is not for everyone,'' for the praise of the program that he quotes from The Washington Post seems to have it backwards. Teletechnet doesn't transform ODU ``from a teaching institution to a learning institution,'' but just the opposite. Inasmuch as learning occurs most effectively in a learning community, the misnomer ``distance learning'' ought to be abandoned in favor of the more accurate ``distance lecturing.''
Professor Terry Gibson of the University of Wisconsin, one of the nation's leading gurus of ``distance learning,'' has conceded that in such a program ``a technology ... is intervening in the process'' of learning. Gibson attempts to turn this defect into a virtue, arguing that we must ``get beyond the classroom as the model for instructional design.'' But get beyond it to what? The classroom isn't a ``model'' for anything. It's merely walls, floor and ceiling that teacher and students inhabit together for a time in the common enterprise of learning.
As anyone knows who has taught, this is an enterprise that's carried out most effectively in a face-to-face intimacy with small numbers of students. Weather permitting, even a classroom is unnecessary. But togetherness in a particular place, for learning that deserves the name ``higher education,'' is essential.
Can satellite video technology really make the traditional togetherness-in-a-place unnecessary? Mass-media students have noted that conventional broadcast television creates an ``illusion of intimacy,'' not the real McCoy. There's reason to think that even a two-way video link will only magnify the illusion, not the intimacy.
In my classroom, I can ``read'' my students' moment-to-moment learning experience in myriad ways on the basis of verbal and nonverbal cues. Talk, silence, laughter, grunts, shrugs, sleepiness, note-taking or lack thereof, fidgeting, body language, glances, facial expressions - all this evidence is available, enabling me to adjust, to try to elicit both speech and listening from them. I can feel whether the classroom ``chemistry'' is working that day or not.
I'm not a great teacher; this takes work. And after 15 years of it, it's still a struggle in which I fail too often. But I know that the togetherness-in-a-place of my students and me is crucial - that their learning and my teaching would suffer if we were miles apart, brought ``together'' only by cameras, microphones, etc.
Consider also what takes place beyond the classroom on a typical college campus. When will ``distance'' students have that chance meeting with a professor or with another that progresses from a ``hello'' to a chat, to a 45-minute dialogue probing deep questions for the day or of eternity? How available will instructors be to students in some equivalent of ``office hours,'' and of what quality will be the contact when it cannot be face to face?
Will our best efforts to make library resources available be adequate? We may supply electronic access to the computerized library catalogue and fast turnaround on library loan requests, but there's really no substitute for that roaming of library stacks that often yields the most useful, unexpected discoveries.
And what opportunities will ``distance'' students have to take advantage of extracurricular lectures and conferences, artistic events, formal and informal student organizations or activities? None, I expect. What friendships will they forge with faculty, administrators, staff and other students? Few of any lasting quality, I expect.
Students enrolling in Teletechnet and similar programs deserve our respect and praise for taking steps to improve their lives, often under difficult circumstances. But let's not try to sell them a bill of goods that says a satellite ``delivery system'' can ``deliver'' them a truly first-quality higher education. The diploma will look the same as one given to an on-campus degree recipient, but that's all. That's all some will care about - but is that all we should care about?
Perhaps my trouble is that I don't think of the ``university of the future'' as a ``delivery system.'' The university's historic mission isn't the ``delivery'' of ``information'' or ``skills,'' but the seeking of knowledge by scholars, some called teachers and some called students. If that mission is not to be forgotten, the university must continue to be a place where ``getting ahead in the world'' takes a back seat to understanding the world, and to doing it together. To perform that honorable, traditional mission, the university must continue to be a place.
Matthew J. Franck is an associate professor and chairman of the Department of Political Science at Radford University.
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