October 18, 2021—Because of COVID-19 many people are wearing masks for health reasons and to protect their extended community. And speaking of masks, Halloween is soon to arrive at my front door in the form of children transformed, by commercial and homemade masks, into princesses, dragons, ghouls, and cartoon characters. In both cases it is hard to tell the true identity of the person behind the mask. Faces and recognizable features are obscured and hidden. I’m left to my imagination and reliance on little cues to guess who is behind the mask.
Masks have been on my mind lately because of the transition from online teaching to face-to-face teaching. Over the past 18 months my instruction was fully online without masks. I developed a sense of my students based on a two-dimensional view from shoulders to the top of their head. I formulated a working sense of personalities and dispositions based solely on a multitude of small squares on my computer. I learned who was going to be first to speak or who, if given a moment to reflect, would offer a compelling analysis of a text or ask the key question that no one else considered. I adapted and refined by my online practices to mirror my pre-COVID face to face relationship building with students.
We are no longer teaching online. We are now teaching face to face, with a mask requirement for both teacher and students. As someone who takes pride in connecting to students and regularly using their names during class, I was surprised and confused by how hard it was for me to recognize my students who I knew so well in the online space. My struggle was heightened by my assumption that it would be easy to connect once were together in a classroom. In the early weeks of the quarter I often felt embarrassed because I recognized the student’s name from a previous online class. But in person, I couldn’t match names to people. I felt off balance and awkward in my interactions with students.
Part of the challenge I had identifying students was the change from their two-dimensional to their three-dimensional form. I was now trying to match their flat virtual form with their actual height, hair color, stance, body movements and other physical characteristics that were less visible in Zoom. This alone is a good lesson for me on how much I rely on physical qualities as a heuristic for a student’s intellectual beliefs and scholarly arguments. But what was really revealing to me is the importance of seeing a student’s face when building and sustaining an instructional relationship. Even in the virtual space, where I had assumed it would be harder to know students, it was easier and more fulfilling because I could see their faces. Now I only see faces from the bridge of the nose to the crown of the head. All the typical facial expressions, that reveal emotions and nuance, are obscured and hidden. I only have eyes and muffled voices to judge whether a comment is uttered in confusion, cynicism or an epiphany of understanding.
In a 10-2-21 interview on NPR’s Weekend Edition, the playwright Sarah Ruhl was interviewed about her book, “Smile: The Story of a Face”. It is a memoir of her experience with Bell’s palsy and the partial paralysis of her face. One of the aftereffects of her illness was her realization that she relies on facial expressions to make meaning of the actions of others. And she wondered what other people were making of her intent if her face was asymmetrical and non-expressive on one side. Her reflections led her to the conclusion that a person’s eyes are the true gateway to communication and connection. And now that most folks are masked that realization is even more meaningful: “…the face is our canvas. The eyes are the windows to the soul. I do believe that. And now we have our masks on, and we look at the eyes. And we have access to people's thoughts and feelings through their eyes.” I found her insight helpful. It captured both my confusion in that I no longer had a student’s full-face from which to paint a picture of their identity and her observation about eyes as the window to the soul offered a deeper and more compelling avenue to meaning making.
The challenge and opportunity I now face is to develop and refine the skills needed to see beyond the mask, through the eyes, to the deeper essence of the student. This is remarkably like the belief in ancient times that the divine wisdom was fully present in nature and accessible to everyone, not the few. But to see it required proper training and discipline. Seeing beyond the obvious features of the world to the real, was like peering through a fog or curtain and discerning aspects of the whole from fleeting and incomplete images. No easy tasks and complete with false starts and inaccuracy.
In my reflections on masks I realize that they are also metaphorical. I wonder how I might see beyond socially imposed masks like gender, social class, culture or sexual orientation to the full nature of the student? I wonder what are the necessary classroom conditions that will invite students to lower their masks to reveal elements of their truer self? I wonder, once the physical mask is no longer required, will I remain committed to the discipline of seeing the learning soul of students through their eyes?
I’ve been thinking about masks lately, both real and metaphorical, and their implications for how I pursue that craft of teaching. How are you navigating the ways that masks can hide the identity and inner wisdom of your students? What masks do you wear into the classroom and how might your students try to peer beyond the role to glimpse aspects of your true self?