Online Teaching: Building Castles In Air
Swati Moitra
“These days, everyone has a smartphone and a JIO SIM”.
Admit it. You have heard this line, or a version of the same. You might have even said it yourself.
Enthusiasm about India’s ‘smartphone revolution’ and cheap access to mobile internet — data pricing in India continues to be among the lowest in the world — has been a common feature of a lot of popular writing on the subject, to the point where it is often ‘common sense’ to assume that a large section of the population has now made the leap across the digital divide. India, as per reports, now has around 50 crore smartphone users (a large section being in the basic segment), and has seen considerable expansion in 4G/LTE networks. This enthusiasm, while not entirely unwarranted, has also translated into misplaced conclusions about the potential that the so-called smartphone revolution holds for the future of higher education in India. The COVID-19 pandemic is now forcing us to confront this reality.
Consider this data: as per the 75th NSS survey on the Key Indicators of Household Social Consumption on Education in India (July 2017-June 2018), the national average of household computer access in India stands at a measly 10.7%, whereas household access to the internet (via mobile connections or fixed lines) stands at a national average of 23.8%. Urban populations have the lion’s share of access, with their computer access standing at 23.4% (as opposed to a mere 4.4% for rural India) and internet access standing at 42% (as opposed to a mere 14.9% for rural India). The highest penetration is in Delhi — where the ‘rural’ areas are not considered separately, since they constitute the same urban landscape — at 34.9% and 55.9% respectively. In terms of full-fledged states, Kerala stands ahead of others, at 23.5% and 51.3% respectively.
Keeping in mind the fast-evolving nature of internet usage data, it is perhaps safe to assume that the 76th round of the same survey by the NSS will highlight greater penetration of internet connectivity in various parts of India and a rise in the national average. The question still stands: what does this mean for higher education in India, especially in the push for online education in the wake of the COVID-19 crisis?
Ever since colleges and universities were forced to shut down in-person classes courtesy the COVID-19 crisis, online education has been seen as a temporary solution to the crisis. Different universities may have handled the situation differently, but the overall consensus — encouraged by the UGC and the MHRD — has been for continuing with the curriculum through online means. As an education worker, questions about internet access and household computer usage have not been something I have had to be particularly concerned about in recent times, but the COVID-19 pandemic has brought me — and many others in my position — face to face with the reality of the digital divide in India. Even as we turn to Zoom and Skype sessions and claim to relish the pleasures of online learning, colleagues across the country have spoken of students who are stuck without their textbooks, or students who have asked if they might submit a mobile-scanned copy of their handwritten assignment, or students who feel ashamed to switch on their webcams and offer everyone else a glimpse of their humble homes.
I work in a metropolitan city, in a public-funded institution located in a prime spot in the city, and catering to a diverse body of students — a large number of whom are first generation learners. Like many other public-funded institutions, my classrooms are diverse in terms of their caste and class composition. Schools and colleges in West Bengal, like many other parts of the country, were shut down before the lockdown was officially initiated. I had anticipated such a development in India, after watching institutions across the world take similar decisions while colleagues struggled to make what was being called the online transition. Hoping to get an idea of how my students use the internet, I set them a small survey on Google Forms, and asked them to fill it up. Out of the 91 answers I receive — admittedly a small sample size — 69 informed me that they are solely dependent on their mobile phones for internet access. Most of them also did not have access to fixed line connections or WiFi at home, and were reliant on personal data plans. A few were quite upfront about the difficulty of recharging their phones too often.
Looking at the survey, it became very clear to me at that time that synchronous learning based on apps like Zoom or Microsoft Teams or Google Hangouts was going to be an exclusionary choice I could not opt for. As the lockdown progressed, I remained firm on this decision as an increasing number of students hesitantly spoke of poor network and lack of access to data. I uploaded lectures on YouTube and shared them, along with other reading material, in Google Classroom. I set them assignments they could challenge themselves with, and periodically offered them advice on mental health during a pandemic and blue light filters on devices. Unfortunately, as it became evident, online teaching through low bandwidth options is still exclusive and discriminatory as a section of my students could not access even this, through no fault of their own. The fantasy of the smartphone revolution, enabling learning at one’s fingertips, remained just that — an outlandish fantasy that served no purpose for the cause of higher education where access to computational devices and a reasonable internet connection is now an essential requirement.
In a country defined by internet shutdowns — Kashmir, we must note, still has access only to 2G connections, even in the middle of a pandemic — and chequered access to telecom networks, to say nothing of access to devices other than mobile phones, what could online learning possibly mean but exclusion? The COVID-19 crisis will end, eventually, but the MHRD’s #BharatPadheOnline campaign suggests that policymakers’ enthusiasm for online learning extends beyond the COVID-19 moment. It therefore becomes imperative for us to imagine a future where access to technology does not further consolidate the right to knowledge and information in the hands of a few.
Swati Moitra teaches English at a college in Kolkata. She can be contacted at swati.still@gmail.com.
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