How I launched my first online course without freaking out

It’s Sunday night. Close to midnight. I’m leaning back in my desk chair, staring at my laptop without a focus on anything in particular. It’s been another weekend of work. Hours at the desk making final edits to a set of videos that tomorrow will go live to a class of early career researchers at the University of Cape Town’s African Climate and Development Initiative. 

I’m exhausted and should be in bed -- ready for a big sleep after two months holed up at home during lockdown, shooting and re-shooting in my “home studio” (bedroom), and editing into the early hours of too many mornings. But I’m on the edge of something new and the recognition of this moment is keeping me awake. Tomorrow, my indefatigable collaborator Tali Hoffman (who has shared the demands of the past months on top of parenting two children) and I will launch our online course, Communicating science for impact.

Communicating science for impact is available online. Early bird specials for those who sign up before 31 October 2020!

We’ve been working on this for months and talking about it for longer. Now that the moment is here, I’d expect to be anxious -- a response I’ve come to know well over the years. This is big. The course is my brainchild, nurtured from an idea in 2018 to execution in 2020 in the midst of a global pandemic. Once we go live, our course will be open for scrutiny. The students won’t know or care about the late nights, early mornings, or hours re-shooting footage that we didn’t get right the first time round. All that will matter is whether or not the course does what we said it would: teach researchers to communicate their science in a strategic way that boosts their impact.

Anxiety has stood in the way of too many of my creative pursuits over the years. And I’ve worked hard to not feel the kind of anxiety I’d expect in this situation. Instead, I am calm. Open to whatever tomorrow, and the days after it, may bring. Reflecting on that feeling, a few months after we successfully ran the course, I can identify a few things that helped me arrive at that place of openness the day before kickoff.

Finding value in the process of creation

One of the many things I learned from Claudia Boers, an incredible coach whose guidance helped me navigate this new pursuit, is that the process of creating something is as valuable, if not more valuable, than the final outcome. It is within the process of making that we learn about ourselves -- our strengths, the stories we tell about ourselves, and the things that hold us back.

I found the process of creation particularly salient because I had to be on camera every day. There is nothing quite like it to make you take a look at yourself. It’s a mirror that doesn’t obscure imperfections. I had to learn to show up for the camera. On days when I started filming in a rush without taking time to get into the right space for teaching, the footage wasn’t up to scratch. The person on film wasn’t the person I wanted to be when sharing what I’ve learned about the media and science communication during my career.

Being on camera is like staring into the mirror. Photo: Brendon Bosworth.

To be the instructor I knew I could be, I had to prepare myself -- mentally, physically, and emotionally. I learned to sit down, close my eyes, breathe, find my feet planted firmly on the ground, and centre myself in front of that camera. I also had to have some serious conversations with myself whenever the tendrils of doubt clutched at my mind, overriding any fears about “not getting it right” with a positive story about myself.

Strength in collaboration

Since starting out as a freelance writer in the early 2000s, I’ve worked mostly alone. This is the first time I’ve gone so deeply into a collaborative partnership. Working with a trusted collaborator like Tali gave this project a solid foundation, allowing us both to explore its full potential.

There is great strength in collaboration. Image: Geralt.

Tali is an efficient and experienced science communicator. She brought structure, integrity, and creativity to our work. Her practical "let’s get it done" approach helped keep me from getting caught up in overthinking things. Her knowledge of strategic communication for academics, affinity for diverse communication tools, and background as a zoologist and TV presenter, compliments my experience as a journalist, photographer, and storyteller. 

Throughout, I knew I could count on her. Not just to produce great work but to co-create in a positive and supportive work environment.

Human element first

Since the beginning, Tali and I have had a shared understanding that for a successful working relationship you need to treat each other as humans first. That means empathizing with the whole person -- seeing them as more than just their work outputs. With the stress of Covid-19 and the lockdown, both of us had to navigate challenging terrain.

While working to a tight schedule, we made time to check in about our non-work lives. That meant photos of dinosaur birthday cakes (Tali baking for her two-year-old’s birthday party) and voice notes about my new kitten’s sleeping patterns.

It also meant respecting each other’s boundaries and hearing what the other needed when it was all too much. After a particularly challenging and sleepless week, I told Tali I couldn’t work on anything for a few days. Despite our deadline looming closer, she didn’t hesitate in saying "okay." Now, that’s the kind of understanding and trust you want in a collaborator.   

Working with constructive feedback

At the same time, we held each other accountable. And gave honest and constructive feedback. 

After cutting my first video, I shared it with Tali for review. She told me, in a supportive way, that I wasn’t coming across as myself on screen -- or at least the person she knew me to be. That was tough to hear, especially when I’d just jumped into the world of online teaching. But I agreed with her. So, I went back, tried again, and re-did the film. I put work into being more comfortable on camera and was much happier with the next cut.

Remembering to have patience

Filming at home during lockdown taught me about patience and how easy it is to relinquish it.

One day I’d set myself up to film. Got the tripod ready, made sure I had the timing right (the afternoon light through my window comes in at the perfect angle at a certain time of day), and gone through my pre-on-camera routine. It all started well. But, about 10 minutes into filming, a gardening service arrived with two leaf-blowers to work on the apartment across the street. The result was the noise equivalent of a jet with its engines running parked outside my window -- a sound that no amount of noise reduction could cut from an audio track.

I want to say that I switched off my camera and sat thinking deep thoughts about the virtues of acceptance but I’d be lying. Instead, I paced around the apartment with a wild look in my eyes, swearing and feeling sorry for myself. “How could they do this? Why now?” Of course, that achieved nothing. Two hours later, I heard the welcome sound of a leaf blower being switched off and finally got back to work. The light had changed, my bedroom was darker, and I’d lost a bit of my calm. But I got it done and the video came out fine. Some things you just can’t change.

I had to have patience and deal with frustration. Photo: Taylor Young.

Stepping away from attachment to others’ perceptions

To get to the point of being able to sit at my desk close to midnight, the day before the launch of our course, with a relative sense of calm, required stepping away from the fear of how others perceive me and my work. I told myself that I’d take any feedback from the students as objectively as I could. If somebody thought a module wasn’t useful, or that we needed to cover more material, I’d take that on board and look at ways to improve our offering. 

If somebody thought my teaching style was sleep-inducing that was their opinion. If everybody thought that -- well, then I had some work to do around becoming more engaging if I wanted to keep going as an online instructor. 

I decided to see any feedback -- positive or negative-- as something to learn from and work with. Not a death knell or something to be afraid of. 

Surrendering this attachment was liberating. It helped me to see the actual running of the course (which went well) as a learning process with multiple possibilities for growth. It allowed me to co-facilitate the course from a place of strength instead of one of fragility. Because of that, I was able to show up as a better instructor for the students with an openness to learn from them. And I thoroughly enjoyed the process.

Building on our foundation

After a rewarding first run of our course, Tali and I are looking forward to doing future courses with researchers who are eager to become more confident and strategic in their communication efforts. But I’ll always remember the first time we ran the course -- in the throes of the new Covid reality.

And, if in future, I find myself anxious about an impending work project, I’ll come back to this post to remind myself about what’s possible when we step away from anxiety.

Communicating science for impact is available as a fully online course with early bird specials for those who enrol before the end of October 2021. Tali and I also run facilitated versions of the course with research groups. Contact me for details.