Zoom dilemmas: "Oh no, they can definitely see my double chin!"

Sussex student Jenny Bathurst has been writing for us about pandemic life since lockdown began back in March.
Jenny BathurstJenny Bathurst
Jenny Bathurst

The pandemic robbed her of the chance to sit A levels. But she ended up with three As and is now studying journalism at the University of Brighton (Eastbourne campus).

Here is her latest contribution.

"Despite having been amid a pandemic for the best part of a year, I realised that the (debatable) joys of Zoom, Microsoft Teams and all other video calling platforms have not often featured in my column. This surprises me, seeing as I spend perhaps more time than I would like yanking a brush through my hair and pulling on a semi-presentable jumper in pursuit of a video chat starting any minute.

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"If you have managed to survive the entirety of the previous ten months without downloading any one of these apps, then I don’t know whether to commend you or envy you. Of course the dominant area of my life that has fallen prey to the grasps of video chat is online learning for my degree. Studying journalism has proven how virtual the industry is slowly becoming, but absorbing what is being taught to us over an often crackling microphone with my phone easily in reach is a challenge of its own.

"I am sure that all students across the country will be able to relate to the headache that is the ‘turn camera on’ button. Yes, I can state many reasons as to why teachers and group leaders would rather that everybody’s faces can be seen, but as a regular ‘Zoom-er’ I can confirm there is nothing worse during a lecture than being asked to start your camera. Yes, in a physical classroom you are seen by all, but via an online seminar you have no idea who may be looking at you and when, and as somebody who overthinks practically anything and everything that is a terrifying prospect.

"Not only this, but for some strange reason the idea that fellow students and teachers can see an inch of my study space in the background of my screen is oddly unsettling. What if one week I leave my clothes drying behind me and have no option but to sit for the next hour with the fear that everybody present is analysing the state of my room? (Because that’s definitely never happened before…) And then of course comes the brimming self-consciousness that comes with taking down notes. ‘Does my hair look funny from this angle? Oh no, they can definitely see my double chin. The lecturer’s talking too fast but if I ask him to repeat what he just said I’ll annoy everyone by dragging out the lesson.’ And so it goes on.

"No matter how much I whinge unnecessarily about these platforms, I must admit that I am hugely grateful for the facilities and resources that have allowed me to continue to receive some level of human interaction in what has been for many a particularly isolating period. Spending my evenings on FaceTime cackling at the most stupid things with friends and loved ones has been one of the saving graces from the very beginning of this pandemic, and if this means that I must endure the highs and lows that come with it, then so be it."