The University Today | Fumitoshi Kato, Dean, Graduate School of Media and Governance
2021.06.08
That whole commotion triggered the start of a serious review. The newly introduced "timetable" seems to have finally taken root. At first, there were arguments for and against it, and I couldn't imagine how things would settle. There was no right answer to begin with, and since it wasn't something that could be easily "reset," conflicts of opinion were inevitable. Fortunately, we avoided a major rift between students and faculty and staff, and for now, peace has been maintained.
I, along with a few colleagues, had proposed that we should create a new "Juku" based on our own unique "standards," without being constrained by the official "Standards for Establishment." However, I was ridiculed for being a dreamer, and the idea was unpopular even among the younger faculty. But the idea I had been advocating for over 20 years—"the university is in our lives, and our lives are in the university"—was finally put into practice, even if only in a small way.
The basic "timetable" of first period, second period, and so on remains unchanged. In other words, the series of arrangements and procedures are still organized by week and by semester. The "academic calendar" still sets the rhythm of our lives. That said, for those who remember how things were, I think it has changed considerably. My proposal was fully accepted: all first-period classes (9:00–10:30 a.m.) were moved online, and the time from 10:30 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. became "free time." This means people can have a relatively relaxed morning before starting their commute to school or work. Our lunch breaks finally got longer. This seems to have been a great relief for the students. It also appears to have had a positive impact on the lifestyles of faculty and staff. Simply put, our mornings were just too busy.
It has now been 20 years since we started teaching "online." In that first year, it felt like we were speaking into the darkness, filled with anxiety. But looking back, I believe the university was saved by the internet. It was a historic year, with every faculty member conducting online classes. The chaos on the ground was a daily occurrence, and there were many things that seemed unreasonable. But as long as we had a smartphone, we managed. The "classes" were never interrupted.
No matter how much time passes, the distance to the city center remains the same. While many suburban campuses have relocated back to the city, our campus has come to stand out even more for its unique character. The surrounding area has transformed to an extent that would have been unimaginable at the time of its founding. Meanwhile, the experiences of 20 years ago exposed everyone's individual values. How do we interact with others when facing invisible risks? What do we hold dear? We were forced to reveal our humanity to one another, almost cruelly. I was reminded that everyone has a different sense of crisis, and there are many different ideas about what people even want from a university. Of course, this doesn't mean "anything goes," but the word "diversity," which once rang hollow, has come to be understood with some substance. We returned to the fundamental question of how to share time and space, and this led to the diversification of class formats from various perspectives—for example, "online" or "offline (in-person)," and "on-campus" or "off-campus (at home, in a park, at a café, etc.)."
The desire to shorten commute times, including through railway extensions, has not faded. Thus, discussions on how to manage the 50-kilometer journey from the city center are endless. On the other hand, perhaps as a reaction to being cooped up at home for a while, a new need has emerged that we can no longer ignore: the desire to savor a leisurely 50-kilometer one-way trip. Local trains have fewer passengers and are quiet. To meet such needs, we now have a class format called "on-move." For content that involves acquiring knowledge through drill-style exercises, it's possible to take a class while traveling. For example, one could take an "online" class at home first thing in the morning, then use the "free time" to travel. During the commute, they can take an "on-move" class. By "free time," the rush hour peak has passed, making the journey comfortable. Then, in the afternoon, they can attend in-person classes on campus. It's a lifestyle that is neither entirely home-based nor entirely campus-based.
Curiously, I hear that properties located about 90 minutes from campus are popular. This is because being a moderate distance away is ideal for making use of "on-move" classes. Of course, living in the dormitories on campus offers a completely different lifestyle.
After watching the "morning drama," I got ready and delivered my first-period class from home. Once the class was over, I headed to campus for a "seminar" in the afternoon. "Seminars" are definitely better in person, and above all, the nature-rich campus just feels good. Although attempts to recreate the campus and classrooms in online spaces have evolved dramatically, they still can't compare to the real thing. And now, the 50-kilometer commute has become something I can enjoy like a short trip. When I used to commute every day, it felt like a grueling journey. But thanks to the combination with online classes and the new "timetable," the physical strain has been reduced, and being able to savor a travel-like feeling in my daily life is actually quite healthy.
In the evening, after the "seminar" ended, I went with students to the kitchen in the accommodation building to make dinner. The time spent chatting around the kitchen island while chopping vegetables is special. Afterward, we talked about this and that late into the night. I decided to stay overnight in the accommodation building, as I have an in-person meeting first thing in the morning.
Many of the concepts used to talk about the university—"campus," "classroom," "class," "lab," "commute"—were redefined 20 years ago. What can be done "online" is done "online." We learn without being bound by time or place. Precisely because we know the value of being "on-campus," we enjoy the small journey to get there. We have reclaimed "close-contact" time, so we can stay overnight and talk all night. There are days when I feel nostalgic for the university of 20 years ago, but there must be many things that today's university students cannot imagine. The university remains fascinating. It is still a place to meet many people and learn methods and attitudes to enrich oneself.
Note: I wrote this installment of the "Head's Diary" by imagining "today" 20 years in the future. Of course, I have no idea what things will actually be like in 20 years. I should be retired by then, so I probably won't be commuting to campus for "seminars." I believe it's important to imagine what kind of "today" is possible—how we might live, what the university might be like. This piece emerged from discussions about the "future" with graduate students in the Graduate Academic Project (AP) "The Study of Experience," which is being offered this semester.