Say what you will about high school, it’s easy to complain about. We're obligated to attend, giving every curmudgeonly tween an inexhaustible source of rant material, which is convenient to have when you’re a teenager and, therefore, lack a reason for being beyond whining incessantly.
College lacks this comfort. To get into even the smallest university, we have to machete our way through red tape, choose a program, pawn our first-born child—you know, the usual. It takes purposeful effort to even sign up for classes, which makes turning around and complaining about them difficult, indeed. We do it to ourselves, but that just makes it worse.
I suspect it was this paradoxical process that birthed online curriculums. On paper, online classes, and to a lesser extent hybrid classes, let us have our cake and eat it: we can attend class without actually going to class. It’s every student’s dream, right?
In many ways, yes, online schooling is wonderful. In my experience, its best application is trimming the fat off predominantly individualistic classes—English and history and the like. Similarly, classes heavy on interpretative writing and reading are regularly improved by the online format because they allow each student to pace things as they wish. Meeting online to discuss a chapter in a designated forum is often better than face-to-face because it is more structured. Not only does everyone get a guaranteed (probably mandatory) say, but you can refer to your peers’ input and professors’ replies after the fact.
Contrastingly, in mathematics and sciences you’re going to want immediate access to your classmates and professors for troubleshooting purposes, the kind of access that you don’t have in an online format. Answers may seem just an email away, but an email conversation feels excruciatingly long when you’re stuck on a problem right in front of you.
At the very least, it is much slower than a raised hand. Hybrid classes help alleviate this problem with weekly face-to-face meetings, but even they feel lacking in highly rigid or technical fields. As a rule, if it’s finicky or you know you struggle with the content, opt for standard classes. The human element is invaluable.
Scheduling is the other biggie. Online classes don’t conflict with other class times or run you across campus. Most employ a weekly format wherein one day sees a mandatory check-in and the other six are left entirely in your hands. This leaves you free to work at ideal times—once you’ve completed that big project for another class, found a day off from work and so on.
This freedom is as intoxicating as it is hazardous. The best description for online classes is dangerously convenient. Setting your own schedule is easy; sticking to it, not so much. Both online and hybrid classes are prepackaged with added responsibility and are only truly right for the responsible and fastidious.
It falls to you to download and view material, monitor the class page for updates, ensure stable Internet access and resolve any hiccups through designated forums. This is to say nothing of easily, painfully forgettable deadlines. “Out of sight, out of mind” also applies to things you’d very much like to remember, I’ll tell you that.
