Studying Through the Pandemic: The struggles of student experience during covid.
Welcome back to ODP Diary! In this post, I want to share my personal experience of studying during the COVID-19 pandemic. My journey to becoming an Operating Department Practitioner (ODP) was marked by unexpected challenges and profound changes, especially during those unprecedented times.
The Excitement Before the Storm
Back in November 2019, I was filled with anticipation as I attended an open day at Bucks New University. I was on the brink of securing funding for an ODP apprenticeship, a significant step in my professional development. By early 2020, the excitement peaked when I received a conditional offer for the apprenticeship, with training set to begin in April 2020. Despite the growing concerns about COVID-19, I was reassured that theatre operations would continue mostly unaffected, and the course would proceed as scheduled.
However, as the pandemic's impact became more apparent, the situation changed rapidly. The national lockdown on March 23rd crushed my plans, and my apprenticeship was postponed indefinitely. I felt devastated as my long-awaited dream seemed to slip away, and the excitement quickly turned to uncertainty.
Navigating the Uncertainty: Life as an HCA During the Pandemic
The following six months were incredibly challenging. Working as a Healthcare Assistant (HCA) during the height of the pandemic was not what I expected. Most of the time, there was little to do. My HCA colleagues and I spent countless hours sitting around, cleaning the same shelves and trolleys repeatedly, redoing mandatory training we had already completed just to pass the time. I felt like a spare part that was sellotaped to the side of an army tank while it ambled through a minefield—present but in harms way with no real purpose.
More importantly, I started to feel that the risks I was taking, both for myself and my family, were unjustified. The fear of bringing the virus home led me to take stringent precautions, which included not seeing my children for extended periods. The isolation and the seemingly pointless nature of my work took a toll, and I began to resent the situation I found myself in. The national applause from doorsteps and balconies, while well-intentioned, felt hollow and undeserved to me personally.
I did not feel that I deserved any of the adulation directed towards healthcare workers because my role was so small. For the doctors, nurses, and other practitioners who were truly in the thick of all the horrifying action, I was there firsthand to witness the physical, mental, and emotional toll that period had on some of them. You didn't need to be a mind reader to see it on their faces—people smiled less, and when they laughed, it felt forced. The usual spark in people's eyes was noticeably dimmed. While these professionals faced relentless pressure, I felt sidelined, contributing little to the actual frontline effort. This contrast made the public applause seem patronising, as it lumped together those of us who were merely present with those who were genuinely fighting the battle.
Adding to the frustration was the political posturing around supporting NHS workers. Politicians were keen to be seen clapping and vocalising their support for the NHS while simultaneously profiting from PPE contracts and denying much-needed pay rises. This hypocrisy was infuriating, as it highlighted a glaring disconnect between their public gestures and the reality of their actions. The applause, therefore, felt not just hollow but also a stark reminder of the insincerity and exploitation at play.
Six months later, however, the first wave of the pandemic receded, and an opportunity emerged that reignited my determination. I was offered an apprenticeship place at the University of West London. At 33 years old, and with everything happening globally, I knew I couldn't afford to lose any more time. I eagerly accepted the offer, ready to embark on this new phase of my education despite the ongoing pandemic.
The Reality of University Life During COVID-19
My university experience was far from what I had originally imagined. I had envisioned a vibrant student life, complete with 'Freshers Week' and various social events, where I would meet new people and make friends from different backgrounds. The reality couldn’t have been more different. Social distancing regulations were still in full force, and the social aspect of university life was significantly limited, particularly during my first year.
We entered a highly controlled environment where interactions were confined to our small class bubbles. The corridors were marked with a confusing one-way system, classrooms were segmented with red and white caution tape to keep chairs one metre apart, and lecturers taught from behind Perspex screens, making it difficult to hear them clearly. Everyone wore masks, hiding their faces and stifling coughs or sniffles for fear of drawing attention. The building felt eerily empty. It seemed as if there were only ever two classes taking place at any one time. Our lunch breaks were staggered with the midwifery students, so that we didn’t occupy the same space at the same time. The atmosphere felt tense and impersonal.
Adding to the surreal environment were the posters and signage scattered around the university. They depicted smiling groups of students freely moving around campus, seemingly mocking the restrictions we faced. Their carefree faces seemed to taunt me, a stark reminder of what my university experience was supposed to be but wasn’t. These images of a ‘normal’ university life felt disconnected from my reality, amplifying the sense of isolation and frustration.
The Challenges of Learning in a Pandemic
The learning environment was equally challenging. The unprecedented situation meant that everyone was trying to adapt on the fly. Lectures were often disrupted by logistical and technical issues, and the constant changes to rules and guidelines made it feel like someone was intentionally gaslighting us. Despite the best efforts of the lecturers, it was hard to escape the feeling that we had inadvertently become part of an experimental approach to education in these new circumstances.
There were limited opportunities for guest speakers to come in and teach. We weren’t given the chance to interact with our peers in the years ahead of us—interactions that would have been valuable for us to ask questions, get a lay of the land for what to expect in the second year and beyond. I personally remember having so many questions and there was no one around who could really answer them for me.1
The Transition to Online Learning
As the second wave of the pandemic approached, the university transitioned to online learning. This shift brought its own set of challenges. Technical difficulties were frequent, and the lack of in-person interaction made it harder to stay engaged. Not everyone was prepared for the sudden transition to working from home. At least half of the class claimed they didn’t own a microphone, which led to the same voices (often mine) breaking the awkward silences that followed our lecturers' questions. I frequently found myself offering vague guesses just to fill the silence and move the lesson along.
We were also advised not to use our webcams during our online sessions; not that anyone was eager to show their half-asleep faces or their morning cereal, anyway. The concern was that our network bandwidth couldn’t handle so many video feeds at once and would likely grind the lecturers’ computer to a halt. This meant our classes were an eerie chorus of disembodied voices and static cardboard cut-out avatars.
The study environment at home added layers of complexity that were absent in a traditional university setting. The convenience of attending a lecture from the comfort of my bed, clad in my dressing gown, often led to a marked decline in my focus and engagement. The temptation to remain in a relaxed state often overpowered the drive to actively participate in lessons. I found that my attention would wane, and my participation suffered as a result. On the other hand, if I made the effort to get dressed and sit at my desk, my focus improved significantly. This setup, while better than lounging in bed, still couldn’t compare to the engagement I felt when physically present on campus.
Once the lesson ended, it was all too easy to immediately slip into doing something completely unrelated to my university work. At university, if I had an urgent idea sparked by a lesson, I would stay behind on the computers for half an hour or so to ensure I captured it. Also, on campus, there was always the option to go to the library for a more focused study session (though I rarely took advantage of this in all honesty, it was there). At home, however, this immediate transition from study mode to leisure mode often meant that any inspiration or momentum gained during the lecture dissipated quickly. The boundaries between academic and personal time became increasingly blurred, making it challenging to maintain a productive mindset throughout the day.
It was a bizarre experience, filled with technical glitches, unmuted microphones catching everything from background conversations to the rustling of snack bags, and the constant repetition of “Can you hear me now?”.
Interaction with Lecturers
There was a slight awkwardness in approaching my lecturers after an online session. When I didn't understand something or needed specific advice, I felt that the end of a video call wasn't the right moment to seek clarification. Instead of lingering silently at the end of the session to try and catch the lecturer alone, I often found myself emailing them my questions and concerns within minutes of the session ending. The rapid pace of online sessions and the tendency for discussions to veer off course made it increasingly crucial for me to learn to ask questions as they arose during the class. While this may have annoyed some of my peers, I felt it was necessary; if I didn't ask immediately, I feared I wouldn't get another chance. This approach allowed me to address my concerns in real-time, though it undoubtedly added to the overall challenge of navigating online learning.
Reflection and Moving Forward
Looking back, I realise how these experiences, though frustrating and isolating, were also formative. They tested my resilience and adaptability, ultimately shaping my journey to becoming an ODP in ways I never anticipated. Despite the hurdles, we soldiered on, navigating the complexities of online education with a mix of frustration and reluctant humour. These challenges also introduced a level of flexibility that allowed us to continue our education amidst the uncertainties of the pandemic.
Studying during the pandemic was a rollercoaster of emotions and challenges, but it also taught me valuable lessons in perseverance and adaptability. These experiences are part of what has made my journey unique and have deeply influenced my approach to clinical practice.
Thank you for joining me on this reflective journey. I look forward to sharing more stories and insights from my experiences as an ODP. Stay tuned for more!
Take care.
In my third year, I had the opportunity to present to a cohort of first-year ODP students. They asked many unique questions—some about clinical practice, others about assignments, dealing with altercations, and more. By then, I had some experience to provide meaningful answers. However, I distinctly remember thinking, "I wish I had this when I was in my first year!"