Welcome to the 10-episode series on my shocking experience as a millennial lecturer teaching Gen-Z students in a Federal University in Nigeria in the last 12 years. It’s a collection of my classroom interactions with a generation of quick-witted, internet-savvy young adults who are “too bold” for their own good. Today, I will be releasing Episode 1.
Episodes 2-10 will follow in due time.
In January 2021, the world was gradually returning to normalcy after surviving the contagious Coronavirus which held humanity to a standstill.
Universities in Africa were most affected by the global shutdown as most of them (especially the publicly owned schools) lacked the infrastructure to switch to virtual learning platforms.
However, my employer, a public university in Nigeria, led the way by signing a deal with Zoom to ensure that all 800+ lecturers could access the platform for teaching.
Therefore, 90% of lectures held in the first quarter of 2021 at my university were taken through the Zoom platform, remotely.
During one of my classes via Zoom, which should have 80+ undergraduate students in attendance, I noticed that only 40 of them were present at the time the lecture should commence.
So, I gave a grace of 15 minutes before starting the lecture, to allow others join. While waiting, I switched off my video and audio but stayed glued to my screen, watching the interactions that might go on in my supposed absence.
Then, one of the students switched on his video. He was only in boxers seated on a flattened mattress and calling out to his friends, he saw online: “Timothy, Tomide, Joy, Taiwo, how una dey? Show face na.”
Timothy switched on his video too. He was shirtless and sweating profusely: “How far, Pablo? What’s up?”
Pablo: “Omo, na inside oven you dey? Why you dey sweat like Christmas goat laidis? Abi you just finished the do?”
Timothy: “I just woke up jare. Boring day. If na sex make me sweat, sheybi e for better. I just tire for myself. Make this class quickly end jare make I fit continue my sleep.
Pablo: Another boring class. Chai. I hear say this lecturer sabi sha.
Joy interjected after unmuting herself, “Guys, I hope you know the lecturer is still online?”
Pablo: “Na true o. Make I no go jam talk.”
Timothy: “No run leave me o. Stay small na.”
While these two were jawing away aimlessly, another lady switched on her video and was dancing and singing along to a local song. I am not sure she knew her video was on.
Joy, the self-appointed class rep, cautioned her colleague: “Tade, your video is on o.”
Tade: “Joy, abeg free me”, she reacted nonchalantly and kept on dancing.
On the dot of 15 minutes, I had had enough already and couldn’t wait to take charge of the platform.
“Yes, I am back! So, we now have 60+ of you online. That’s a fair number. Let’s proceed.”
All videos and audios were automatically switched off and sanity was restored.
While the lecture was going on, I suddenly noticed that a student was drawing lines across my screen with one of the Zoom navigation tools. I initially ignored it and thought it was an error but the student continued.
As the lines kept moving across my screen, the name and matric number of the student popped up.
“Akpofure Usman with Matric number LLS/21/6732. Why are you tampering with my screen?”
The lines suddenly stopped and there was absolute silence.
“Please stop using the navigation tool. You are disrupting my class”, I said firmly with a straight face.
“I am sorry, sir”, he replied.
I continued teaching.
About 30 minutes later, I began to hear a strange sound at the background.
It sounded like a chicken: “Krukrukrukrukru”
It popped up every 2 minutes. And each time it did, a certain name was displayed on my screen.
“Nnamdi Oyekanmi with matric number LSS/21/6745. Why are you sounding like a chicken? Do you not know that Zoom will reveal to me whoever makes a sound? If you don’t want to be here then log out but stop disturbing your colleagues. That is your final warning!”
There was absolute silence.
“Nnamdi, am I not talking to you?”
He finally responded, “No vex, sir”.
“Make I no vex?”, I was stunned by the fact that he replied me in pidgin.
“But come to think of it. Why are you even sounding like a chicken? Are you trying to lay eggs?”, I asked rhetorically.
…..And his colleagues literally unmuted themselves just to laugh.
The tension in the “room” was lifted and we moved on.
Afterwards, the rest of the lecture went smoothly without any disturbance.
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When I was an undergraduate student, dem no born me well to do the things wey these students dey do?
So you will open your mouth and be clucking like a chicken in front of Professor J.A. Tamedo? When it’s not like you smoked weed!
If you try it with some Gen-X lecturers that will be your last lecture that semester.
Imagine a student blasting music loudly and dancing on Zoom with disregard for her colleagues who are online?
Imagine a student admitting openly to not wanting to attend class, knowing fully well that the course lecturer might hear him?
The boldness is shocking!
The times have changed indeed.
Dear fellow millennial lecturers, you cannot handle a Gen-Z class exactly the same way we were taught.
You must be VERY TOLERANT to get the best out of a Gen-Z class.
However, if you are TOO HARD, you will lose their attention, and if you are TOO SOFT, they will boldly disrespect you.
I hope you enjoyed Episode 1?
Watch out for Episode 2.
