Zoom fatigue — the physical and mental exhaustion from increased video conference use — became an ongoing struggle for many during the pandemic.
When schools transitioned to virtual learning in March of 2020, Zoom became the sole connection to any semblance of everyday life. My mom taught elementary school in our dining room, my sister studied for AP tests at the breakfast table, and my dad ran his business from almost any room in the house. I did seven hours of Zoom classes in the sunroom, and my dog ran through the halls barking at all of us, blissfully unaware of why we were all constantly home.
I had Zoom video game sessions with my friends. My sister — a then-senior who didn’t get a high school graduation — had Zoom prom. My parents’ friends hosted Zoom happy hour. That first December, my family even carried on an annual Christmas party via Zoom.
Recently, I was reminded of these virtual times when Emerson’s Boston campus experienced two snowstorms, canceling days of school and moving classes online. Instead of my family’s voices carrying into the background of my Zoom classes, it was the sounds of Piano Row and locked-out residents knocking on my RA door. My classmates’ backgrounds showed roommates unknowingly on camera, and someone was almost always accidentally unmuted.
These distractions are unique to a Zoom class and less present when we are in a classroom together. Everyone has things they don’t bring to work or class — roommate conflicts, family issues, mental health concerns — but mandatory Zooms can put these issues on display, right on your peers’ computers.
When you’re listening to your professor lecture in person, there’s an expectation of attention and respect. You look at them, maybe slightly smile or nod your head to show you’re listening. You may have another tab open on your laptop, but you’re only looking at it in secrecy. On Zoom, the only way to show attention is looking at your professor’s face filling your computer screen; as long as you’re looking at your computer — and that’s with the small chance your camera is on — people think you’re paying attention.
But truly, so many aren’t. Zoom can hold your attention span for a short meeting, but an hour and 45 minutes of class? Impossible.
Virtual schooling takes a toll in a way that in-person learning doesn’t. A 2024 study by Gernot Müller-Putz, head of the Institute of Neural Engineering at Austria’s Graz University of Technology, found that students struggled to focus 15 minutes into virtual classes.
Instead of focusing on their professors, students focus on other, arguably more important to them, things when online. Instead of sitting spread out in a classroom, eyes gazing at the front of the room, your face is full-screen. It suddenly really matters what your hair is doing, how your face is naturally resting, and if you are sitting still or fidgeting. Any small movement feels magnified on a laptop.
So what can we do about this? Do we fully abandon the option to have virtual meetings and classes? We are past the times of mass Zooms in place of in-person work or school, but are they past us?
I hope so, but I doubt it. My student organizations all meet weekly on Zoom, professors host office hours virtually, and Emerson falls back on Zoom classes when the city shuts down. We are trading connection for convenience; six years post-pandemic, many workplaces still offer remote or hybrid jobs, giving employees more flexibility.
But it’s out of my, and any other Emerson student’s, control. My worries will not prevent Zoom meetings or Zoom classes. I can only continue along with another year of undergrad — one that I hope is not filled with Zoom meetings no one is contributing to.
