It’s been eight months since my initial transition to online classes, and I’m still not used to Zoom. Whether I’m watching asynchronous lectures, taking online tests or raising my hand in front of my computer screen, much of the elements of a Zoom classroom still feel odd. But above all, the strangest feature to try to adapt to is the Zoom camera, which displays your face for not only your classmates, but also for yourself to see. It’s like going into a classroom and having a mirror in front of you at your desk.

We’re not used to seeing ourselves constantly throughout the day. When walking at the park or browsing at a store or talking to a friend, I’m not seeing my face––other people are, but I only catch glimpses of myself in a window reflection or a car’s side mirror when I’m out in public. It’s not normal to constantly have an image of yourself displayed in front of you in forms other than selfie cameras, mirrors, or the small glimpses of reflections. Sometimes, that much self-perception can be overwhelming.

In addition to creating this odd sense of self image, Zoom can be incredibly draining. Apart from the physical strain that an electronic screen can cause on one’s eyes, Zoom is mentally exhausting. As there is often no change in location between online classes, Zoom classes seem to blend together. With all of these factors on top of each other––constant self-perception, physical strain, mental fatigue, undistinguishable meetings––sometimes we just need a break.

Having my camera off doesn’t mean I’m not paying attention. Professors should show students trust and respect by allowing them to turn their cameras off at will. At the same time, that respect goes both ways. In return for the leniency of allowing students to occasionally turn their cameras off, professors have the right to expect students to show that same respect by turning their cameras on when they are able to. If students take advantage of that trust by never turning their cameras on, professors may feel frustrated and understandably so––professors are more disconnected from students when they cannot see faces, reactions or expressions. In a class that relies on discussion and communication, this can be detrimental to the dynamics of the course.

Just as being a student right now is not easy, being a professor may be even harder. Trying to teach to both in-person and online students, reorganizing plans for an online setting and struggling to maintain communication with students are just some of the new challenges that teachers and professors are facing this semester.

As someone who has had multiple teaching jobs, I have an idea of how hard it is to be a teacher, both online and in-person. Over the summer I taught an online art camp to kids. Muted mics led to an inability of the teachers to interact with students or hear their reactions and questions. When instructing my painting lesson, it felt like I was talking into an empty void. Much of the enjoyment I get from teaching––interacting with students, answering questions, laughing and joking––was much more rare in an online setting.

Because of my experiences, I try to have my camera on whenever I can. But sometimes, whether it be stress about current events, Zoom fatigue or simply a bad mental health day, I just need to turn my camera off. My request is that professors allow students to freely turn off their cameras. In return, I would extend that same respect by keeping my camera on whenever possible––and I would expect the same from my fellow classmates.