Aamir Khan’s dialogue in the film 3 Idiots, “A machine is anything that reduces human effort,” is indeed true. Technology, the applied aspect of scientific knowledge, is meant to make our lives easier and save time. While technology is a saviour of our times, it comes with its own side-effects, such as screen addiction, forgetfulness, fragile relationships, anxiety and stress.
In our college, we too experience the sweet and sour aspects of technology. While tasks like processing salaries, maintaining records, results, and faculty data happen smoothly at the click of a button, the introduction of a technologically enabled system for student admissions has proven to be a formidable challenge.
In the past, admission days in colleges used to be a festive time. Just after the summer vacation and before the commencement of a new academic session, the campus would be decked out with preparations, from installing waterproof tents to making seating arrangements for young aspirants and their guardians. The college lawns would sparkle with lush grass, and the canteens would be full of cheer. Teachers formed groups, constituting admission committees, help desks, discipline in-charges, and fee counter managers. Conventional farrata fans, rented especially for these days, would rescue us from the hot and humid weather.
Crowds of students seeking admission would be systematically queued up according to merit and sent to their respective rooms with their admission forms. The admission squad, comprising teachers sitting in a row, would scrutinise the forms and interact with the students, allowing us to understand them beyond their academic scores.
A variety of students from different states were catered to with care, as there were humans on the other end with the sensibilities to communicate effectively. We helped them correct mistakes on forms, counselled them in choosing subjects, and took care of documentation. Meeting the students in person during admission created a beautiful bond.
The onset of COVID-19 brought about the need for physical distancing, accelerating the shift to online admissions. We started interacting with computers instead of humans. Assuming technology would save time, paper, and human effort, we enthusiastically learned the software. However, it turned out to be the opposite. The contingents of discipline, fee, and help desks merged into one task force called the admission committee. Instead of saving time, the admission process began much earlier, during the vacation itself. Everything, from scrutinising forms to checking documents, happened on screen. The lively monsoon days turned into an empty campus with just us and a few monkeys visiting.
All interactions with aspirants happened through the software, and we quickly realised that one-sided communication was often misinterpreted. Students from remote areas had no easy access to the internet and had to rely on intermediaries like cyber café operators to upload their documents and pay for the service. We shifted to telephonic conversations, turning the admission zone into a makeshift call centre, but even this did not always help convey messages clearly. Eventually, after admission, when students came for their classes, many days were spent orienting them to the system and changing their subjects. This process was done manually with piles of printed lists, the paper we had supposedly saved by using the online mode.
Is science a boon or a bane? As sociologists, we believe social change is imperative, and science and technology play a crucial role in setting the stage for new values and norms. Humans are adept at adapting to change; we readily embrace technology, even if it comes with some side-effects. However, in our case, the conventional method was both efficient and sustainable. Sometimes, old is gold! veenat333@gmail.com
The writer is a freelance contributor
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