Kiran's Individual Narrative

I am writing this viewpoint of a teacher who is within classrooms during this new world of Digital Takeover.

It was another day in our digitalized, de-streamed education system, and I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled over me like a heavy fog. It was another day for me in this world of meaningless education. This is not what I signed up for in my two years at Teacher’s College 34 years ago… is it? No. It can’t be. This was definitely wrong. As a teacher, I had always prided myself on my ability to connect with my students, to inspire them, to guide them on their educational journey. And I did this for many years. Many of my previous students came back to me, praising me for how my teachings came in handy to them in the real world. It was why I did this job. “Ms. C, you are right the real world is big and I'm slowly finding myself. After thinking about our lessons, the ones you began with our actual lessons and then transitioned into life lessons, I can see why you told us that. Your voice comes into my head at times, it was a great thing to teach us then I just wish I paid more attention to you, haha!” They would speak about our time together with such high regard because I was actually making a difference in their lives.

But in this new world of online learning, that connection felt increasingly tenuous, like a distressed cotton hanging by a thread. No longer did I stand before a classroom of eager faces, ready to engage in lively discussion and debate. Instead, I found myself staring at a sea of blank screens, the disembodied voices of my students echoing through the digital air. Each day, I found myself sinking deeper into a pit of despair, wondering if I had chosen the wrong profession and if I was even capable of navigating this brave new world of digital education. Now, I am merely a body in the room, a babysitter. When I am not this, I am being verbally abused by students who have no manners because they were not taught any. Not by their parents who are busy at work and not by their previous ‘teachers’ who only gave them the lesson of the day through a 14 by 16-inch screen. To them, I am simply a person in the room who will call for help when they need it before they go back to their online classes when they're not getting at each other’s throats. My title as a teacher is not the same anymore. I used to be so useful, so indispensable to the students and teachers alike. Whether it was helping a struggling student understand a difficult concept, organizing materials for a classroom activity, or providing much-needed support to overwhelmed (new) educators, I felt like I was making a real difference in the lives of those around me. All my years of training and absorbing knowledge have gone down the drain. We used to joke about being babysitters but unfortunately for us that joke has become a reality for us, if not worse – a nightmare.

As the weeks turned into months, my sense of isolation only deepened. I often watch helplessly as the enthusiasm of students who I should know personally but don’t, decrease. Their once bright eyes grew dull and lifeless as they stared blankly at their screens. I tried to reach out, to offer words of encouragement and support, but my efforts fell on deaf ears. In this digital wasteland, I was nothing more than a ghost, haunting the empty halls of a crumbling institution. The truth is, I miss the intimacy of face-to-face interaction, the subtle cues and gestures that spoke volumes about my students' thoughts and feelings. I miss the spontaneous moments of connection, the laughter and the camaraderie that filled the air when we were together in person. I miss the ability to quiet a room with a single glare, not one of fear but one condoned from respect. Respect. I really miss that. Most of all, I miss the sense of purpose and fulfillment that came from knowing that I was making a difference in the lives of my students. Just to get this feeling back, I continue to fight for the values and principles that I hold dear, to advocate for a future where technology serves as a tool for progress rather than a barrier to human connection.

I also cannot help but think of these students though, them being caught in the crossfire of this digital dystopia. Between what the government thinks is good for them and what they gain from this new world. I only wish a member of our political party could visit our classrooms today, they would see that the results of their own decisions are just destroying the world. They want more doctors, engineers, nurses, and lawyers; but they want just the right people to become them. They have done nothing but pull resources from specific sectors to make this possible for the children of lower-income families. I wonder who they think will be in their own children's futures tomorrow. I believe it will only be the people who can afford private education.

Capitalism at its finest. What would become of these students, I wondered, trapped in a world where learning had lost all meaning, all-purpose? Where will they go? Would they grow up to become shadows of their former selves, their dreams crushed beneath the weight of an indifferent system? I shuddered at the thought, knowing that I was contributing to their failure just by being present in this room.

As I gazed into the room, I realized that I was nothing more than a prisoner among prisoners, who did not even know of the real world. Unfortunately, this was a prison of my own making, trapped in a world in the creation of my own kind. By embracing technology at the expense of critical thinking and human connection, I have inadvertently fostered a generation ill-equipped to face the challenges that lie ahead. And as the Zoom links buzzed in around me, I knew that there was no escape, no redemption, no hope for a brighter tomorrow.