By Albert Samaha
By Steve Weinstein
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By Tessa Stuart
By Alison Flowers
By Albert Samaha
By Jesse Jarnow
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As students went back to school this semester, some prepared for class in an unorthodox way: they came home from work, put the kids to bed, and logged on. Seven million students to date have participated in "distance learning" (including correspondence courses and those on videotape), but a growing number are turning to the Internet to inject some of the classroom dynamic into the experience. And even the most prestigious universities have begun scouring blueprints and mixing the mortar for their virtual ivory towers.
Also called asynchronous learning (AL), Net-based distance learning enables a student to access syllabi, lectures, assignments, class discussions, and online libraries through the Internet 24 hours a day. At least 1000 credit, noncredit, and degree courses are available this academic year at a variety of New York institutions of higher learning.
For most AL students, long distances and time constraints create the necessity for online learning. "I drive past the Albany campus on the way to and from work every day, so distance is not the problem for me," says Eric Fredericksen, director of the SUNY distance-learning program, who is also a student in the program. "A full-time job, travel, and an 11-month-old son make it difficult to adhere to a campus schedule." Stephen Anspacher, director of the four-year-old Distance Instruction for Adult Learning (DIAL) program at the New School, understands the bind. "Some people just can't be in Greenwich Village on Tuesday at 5 p.m.," he says. A full 40 percent of DIAL's online students are located outside New York, and half that population is located outside the country.
Asynchronous learning creates opportunities for international faculty as well. New School professors teach from their PCs in Jerusalem, Brussels, Paris, and Tokyo. The director of one AL program was not available for an interview; he was in China developing partnerships with teachers in Beijing.
Marie Alexander, a travel coordinator for a New York vitamin company who will receive her B.S. from the New York Institute of Technology in 2000 (an accomplishment she says would not have been possible without AL), equates her virtual classes with independent study. The online classrooms contain report folders for papers; homework folders for completed assignments; an electronic lecture area; and the Bafflegab Cafe, a chat room where classmates "kick back, grab a mug of latte, and knock ideas around," she says. Students log on a minimum of three times a week (at DIAL, Anspacher, reports, they log on between three and five times a day), and faculty offer regular feedback in the online classroom, where participation is marked like attendance. "If my professor notices that I have not participated," Alexander says, "he'll write to me and say, 'I want more participation.' "
Despite not knowing her fellow students by sight or sound, Alexander says classmates have a good sense of one another. "Classroom participation was not my strong suit; I was timid. I wouldn't have said what I thought about things happening to Clinton. But. . . online I have time to form an opinion, and if I want to have a separate conversation with one classmate, I can step into another frame on my computer to [hold real-time] dialogue there." Most schools realize anonymity can detract from the classroom relationships and are working to combat this. At NYIT each student is required to post an autobiography at the beginning of the semester.
While Alexander extols the virtues of virtual learning, a much publicized study released by Carnegie Mellon University in September suggests that Internet use may have adverse social consequences. Contrary to expectations, the report revealed that even infrequent Internet users experience higher levels of depression and loneliness than those who do not use the Net at all. The $1.5 million study tracked 169 people in 73 households over a one- to two-year period, and found a "negative social effect" that was proportional to the extent of use, says Bill Scherlis, a coauthor of the report. But Scherlis cautions against hastily applying the study's results to virtual universities. "The social tie with a professor is a significant, important tie and not the same relationship that 'Captain Z' has with 'Wizard' in a chat room," he says.
David Sachs, who teaches online and in classrooms at Pace University, agrees. "In a way, I know my online students far better than the ones in the classroom. Students have more time to think about what they want to say. Sometimes they have a day to think before they submit a response. Interesting opinions surface that I rarely saw in the classroom." But Sachs notes the downside as well. "Now what you don't get is the wonderful body language, the cues, and the unexpected meeting between two people as they walk out of the classroom together." Professors maintain round-the-clock virtual office hours, which enable a student to contact a professor at any time with a question, for guidance on an assignment, or to air a reaction to a classroom discussion. The only barrier to an immediate response is a busy schedule.
To date, a Mothers Against Distance Learning or a Parents' Cyber Resource Center has not reared its head, but sophisticated critics are raising important questions. In his essay "Electronics and the Dim Future of the University," published in Science magazine, Eli M. Noam, a professor at Columbia Business School, asks: "Will [the university] be more than a collection of remaining physical functions, such as the science laboratory and the football team? Will the impact of electronics on the university be like that of printing on the medieval cathedral, ending its central role in information transfer?" Noam insists that the introduction of AL will not only affect the value of the university and the method of disseminating information, but will dramatically alter our culture. "It's a revolution of all of society," he said in an interview. "To say otherwise is as simplistic as saying that the introduction of cars reduced the number of horse stables."
For many institutions of higher learning, providing courses, and indeed entire degrees, online will be a great source of income. Frank Mayadas, a program director at the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation, has issued over $25 million in grants for AL since 1993, to more than 50 accredited colleges and universities. "At the beginning, I had to convince people to even take the money because the idea of time-lapsed learning seemed so peculiar," Mayadas says. Both the New School's DIAL and another New York State Sloan beneficiary, SUNY, have grown dramatically: DIAL has served 2000 students since its founding in 1994, and SUNY currently has 37 participating campuses. But because AL is even younger than the Web itself, you can almost count the total number of degrees earned on your fingers and toes.
Soothsayer Noam predicts that, despite the trailblazing efforts of the universities, megacorporations like McGraw-Hill and Time Warner will transform the new medium into a competitive industry. However, for the most elite schools, bringing their courses online is about more than creating new revenue; a virtual curriculum must meet high standards in order to avoid diluting the school's prestigious name. Bob Nelson, a spokesperson for Columbia University, says, "The technology is still in its infancy. We will be in, but I just don't know a date." Maybe we can call that time-lapsed learning, too.
Signal and NoiseTurning of the Phrase: Disney's PR department sure knows how to sell their family-friendly tomorrowland. On September 7, Time Digital reported on the company's big "portal" plans with this pollyanna-ish nugget: "On a blustery March day... we could put up a story about what to do with your two-year-old on a rainy day in Chicago," one Disney exec is quoted saying. Three weeks later, Fortune reheats the same 'storm' and toddler: "Log onto the Net one morning, and what do you find? A local weather report, and a link to a Disney site that tells about great things to do with a two-year-old when it's raining." The future's so similar, you gotta wear a bullshit detector. (Props to Jim Ledbetter for the tip.) Austin Bunn