Here in NZ, things have gone a little mental in the last month. We’re in the midst of a national Omicron outbreak, there’s been protests and riots at Parliament, and while the Russian invasion of Ukraine is on the other side of the planet, it’s all over the news and everyone seems to be talking about it. As an example, over the last week, my Year 9 Digital Technology classes (full of students just beginning their journey at high school), have been working on a slideshow presentation, the theme of which is: All About Me, Me, Me. One of the slides in the presentation asks them to find pictures of things they dislike. Alongside the typical teenage hates of homework, siblings, and following instructions, many students chose to include an image of Vladimir Putin. A month earlier, I doubt these same children would have even known who Vladimir Putin was, let alone having a reason to dislike him.
In the midst of this madness, it is with a sense of just how lucky I am to be tucked safely away in my little corner of the Universe, that I’m going to spend the next couple of paragraphs complaining about the tedium of Zoom meetings, or Zuis, as some of my colleagues have taken to calling them (a combination of Zoom and hui, a Maori word meaning meeting or gathering). Over the last couple of years, I’ve attended more Zoom meetings than I could shake a stick at.
I’ve even hosted a few myself, and while I certainly can appreciate the convenience (especially being able to switch your camera off and attend while wearing pyjamas), I’ve not sat through one yet where a boring discussion wasn’t made even more boring by occurring via the internet.
I think it’s the lack of accountability. Falling asleep in a face-to-face meeting is a little challenging (unless you have some of those glasses with the eyes painted on, and even then, you have to make sure you don’t snore).
On Zoom, if nobody knows you’re already wearing pyjamas, nobody’s going to know if you go the extra step and take a nap as well. I did almost get caught out last week, though. The discussion had moved onto the best brand of photocopier paper or something equally riveting and I was on the verge of drifting off when the meeting host said, “Now I’d like to hear from someone who hasn’t already spoken.“
My eyes shot wide open as I scrambled for a suitable reply. I was thinking something along the lines of, “I don’t really have anything to add that hasn’t already been discussed, but I totally agree that what one needs to look for in a quality photocopier paper is whiteness of colour and a solid, rectangular shape.” Thankfully, the host picked some other poor sucker who’d been silly enough to leave their camera switched on. I have no idea what their answer was. I was already asleep.
Got any tips for surviving in the age of Zoom? If so, let me know in the comments.
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