Does lecture capture discourage in-person attendance, and is that a good enough reason to restrict or ban it? That is what a recent article published in Times Higher Education argued. The authors, Treasa Kearney and Liz Crolley, contend that lecture capture is contributing to the sparsely populated lectures and increasing loneliness that characterise the post-pandemic student experience.
As researchers who have devoted our careers to studying lecture capture and the cognitive science of learning, however, we disagree with their fundamental premise.
First, lecture capture is not a post-pandemic phenomenon. While it is surprisingly difficult to obtain precise estimates of how many lectures are recorded, the evidence we have suggests that while the pandemic has increased the number of recordings (89 per cent of students surveyed for the 2022-23 Jisc Digital Insights report had access to live streams, recordings or prerecorded content), they were already prevalent pre-2020. A 2017 report by the Heads of eLearning Forum noted that 86 per cent of surveyed universities had lecture capture capability, with 63 per cent planning lecture capture in 75 to 100 per cent of their lecture theatres.
Given the prevalence of pre-pandemic lecture capture, there is a body of research on the relationship between recordings and attendance. However, while some studies report a link, more find no clear relationship. This is probably because the drivers of attendance are much more complex than whether a recording is provided, also including factors such as time of class, peer behaviour and social norms. This complexity has only grown since the pandemic and the cost-of-living crisis.
While Kearney and Crolley note that the need to work may be a factor in current engagement issues, they wildly understate it. The most recent Advance HE/Hepi Student Experience Survey found that 55 per cent of students were in paid employment: the first time since the survey began that the figure is above 50 per cent. Not only that, the average weekly hours worked by those in employment now sits at a considerable 13.5.
Last year, one of us attended a session on student time poverty in which we were tasked to produce a full weekly student schedule that included studying, extracurricular activities and some form of social or family life. If you’ve never done this, go and do it now, and try adding in 13.5 hours of employment. And then remember that that’s the average and that when we strip away flexibility we compound disadvantage on the disadvantaged.
Will there be a handful of students who don’t attend lectures for no other reason than that there’s a recording? Almost certainly. But that’s not the question we should be asking. Rather, the question we should demand of educators is, “Who are you willing to punish to ensure that ‘undeserving’ students don’t skip your class?”
Kearney and Crolley suggest that a possible solution may be to provide recordings only during revision time, or only to those with individual needs. But there is a large and robust literature on the importance of distributing learning over time – releasing recordings at the end of term encourages bingeing and removes the possibility that the student who was off sick for a week can get back on track. And releasing recordings only according to demonstrable individual need ignores the fact that there are more people in need than those registered with disability services and rejects the principle that inclusivity should be the default, not an accommodation.
In addition, Kearney and Crolley extol the virtues of in-person lecture attendance, permitting collaborative problem-solving, the back-and-forth of ideas and peer discussion. We are also ardent supporters of the lecture format yet even we struggle to recognise this educational utopia. It is of course possible to make large lectures more active, but what is described by Kearney and Crolley is a tutorial or seminar. And here’s the kicker: attendance at those types of sessions, which typically aren’t and shouldn’t be recorded, is also down. As is attendance at primary and secondary schools. As is attendance in the workplace. Such are the consequences of a pandemic that wrought pervasive psychosocial damage, long-term health impacts and changed social norms.
We don’t deny that there are serious issues that need addressing. Student engagement, disruptive behaviour, a lack of resilience and the inability to self-regulate: all these are symptoms of educational long Covid that we will be dealing with for years. But it is our job as educators to help give our students back what they have lost. If they are not using lecture recordings in an optimal way, our reaction should be to teach them how, not take the recordings away.
Students need guidance to become effective learners, and this is not just true of lecture capture. If left to their own devices, learners choose ineffective strategies, such as rereading, highlighting, copying notes and cramming. They need to be taught how to take notes, how to manage their time and distribute their practice, and the reasons for attending lectures even when there is a recording.
If this sounds like a lot of work, it is. But it’s only by recognising the distinction and dissociation between lecture capture, engagement and study skills that we will move forward in a way that takes all our students with us. To blame lecture recordings for poor study habits and student loneliness is to reach for a simple solution to complex issues. It is a denial of evidence, reality and responsibility.
Emily Nordmann and Carolina Kuepper-Tetzel are senior lecturers in the School of Psychology and Neuroscience at the University of Glasgow. Louise Robson is professor of digital innovation in learning and teaching in the School of Biosciences at the University of Sheffield. Jill MacKay is senior lecturer in the Royal (Dick) School of Veterinary Studies and Kasia Banas is undergraduate talent lead and programme director at the Usher Institute, both at the University of Edinburgh.
