How the 1970s prepared me for the pandemic
Will COVID cut short my education?
If you ever needed evidence that the digital divide is real, we saw proof in abundance when schools closed earlier this year and, whilst some benefited from lessons going on online, other children and young people missed out on their education because they didn’t have the laptops, phones or data connections to share in the online experience. Last week, on my first in-person workshop with my MSc group, COVID tried to cut short my education too. Let me tell you more…
I count my blessings every day that we have good internet connection at home so I’ve been enjoying the online lectures for Hull University’s new MSc conversion course in Artificial Intelligence and Data Science. We’re focusing on intensive learning of coding in Python and, with so many resources available online, the problem is how to choose what to study first — a privileged position to be in. It’s amazing to see the YouTube videos shared by people in India, Korea, USA and, well, everywhere, all with the same theme of wanting to help people learn. Some, of course, also want to sell their book or training but many are free and good quality too. The stories from people in very disadvantaged circumstances round the world, who teach themselves to code through these free resources so they can get a good job, are humbling too.
Luckily for me last week I only needed to travel 200 miles to Hull to get my first experience of a face-to-face workshop with fellow MSc students in Hull. The COVID precautions at the University were impressive (including cutlery at lunch pre-packed in a sealed paper bag — nice touch) but sadly new measures meant I couldn’t browse the library shelves like I’d wanted to. (Has anyone figured out a way to browse online libraries? They’re geared up for precision searching which doesn’t stimulate the same part of the brain as browsing.)
But COVID struck half way through the workshop when I received an unexpected WhatsApp from my son saying he’d tested positive for COVID. The only thing I could do was pack up immediately and drive back home, so COVID meant I missed out on two thirds of the workshop. But of course my fortune in having great internet connection at home meant I could catch up on all the work the next day and the lecturer very kindly answered my questions online too.
So we’ve suddenly had to isolate. It’s always been a joke with my family that I’m permanently prepared for nuclear winter with a cupboard stocked with tins and the freezer full of food. I reckon it dates back to being terrified as a kid by the public information films about preparing for nuclear war. If you haven’t seen them, take a look at this one.
Even as a small child I wasn’t convinced that building a refuge out of three doors and a mattress was going to lead to a long and happy life but nevertheless, for as long as I’ve had a bit of spare cash, I’ve always kept the cupboards full. It’s like whenever I swim in the sea — my lizard brain is indelibly convinced that a shark is about to chomp down on my leg, which is no surprise after seeing Jaws when I was only 8 (that’s what comes of being the youngest in the family and everyone else wanting to see a film that I was way too young to see!)
For us isolating is ok — we have food and the IT needed to keep up with work and education. And we even have enough loo roll. I still don’t get the origins of the panic buying of loo roll. I can see how, once the idea of a shortage of anything starts, it becomes self-fulfilling but the rumour of a shortage has to start somewhere — where? who? why did the loo roll panic buying start?
Whether or not you’re isolating at the moment too, if you’re looking for some brain stimulation and want to think about the future of humanity in the era of artificial intelligence, check out the upcoming Anthropology and Technology 2020 Conference. Hopefully we’ll steer clear of panic and hype and there’ll be no need for a 2020 information film on building a bunker to escape rampaging robots.
