(CNN) As colleges across the country shut down their campuses, students of all ages found themselves scrambling to get home. But for some, that was not an option. Suddenly, bustling campuses became ghost towns as some students learned to quarantine on their own. In the next installment of "Generation Resilient," we asked two students to share their experiences with CNN Opinion. The views expressed in this commentary are their own.
If someone had told me that I would have to spend the last few months of my college career in isolation -- hundreds of miles away from my friends and family, I would not have believed them. However, in the spring of 2020, that's exactly what happened.
When Syracuse University shut down its campus in response to the coronavirus, I had to decide whether I would venture home to Miami, where my parents live. Worried for their health -- and the risk I could be exposed to along the way -- I decided to stay in my off-campus studio apartment and wait out the pandemic.
Save for a handful of nerve-racking trips to the grocery store and walks around my eerily quiet college campus, I stayed within the confines of my apartment, staring out the window as days turned into weeks and eventually months. Like students across the country, I finished the semester online, graduated sans ceremony over a Zoom call with my family -- and watched as opportunities for after graduation grew slimmer and slimmer.
Across the country, at Colorado State University, Jim Fountain, a non-traditional graduate student, found himself in a similar situation. Like me, he was unable to reunite with his family states away for fear of exposing himself and/or them to Covid-19. When I met him virtually to discuss this challenge, we noted that despite our differences in age and location, we were navigating the same daunting reality: extended periods of isolation during a pandemic with no clear end date in sight.
However, unlike Jim, I was less plagued by the isolation. In the absence of in-person human connection, I had found suitable technological substitutes. Jim, in contrast, felt no amount of FaceTime could make up for face-to-face time.
When I reflected on why there was such a discrepancy in our experience, I was able to distill it down to two key differences.
First, it appears I had a completely different experience when transitioning from in-person to virtual learning. Unlike Jim, all but one of my classes continued to meet during their former in-person time slots. Several of my classes conducted live discussions over Zoom and even broke students into smaller groups in order to dive deeper into the material.
At the time, I did not realize how important this was in helping me adjust to the reality of being alone. But moving to online learning in this way allowed me to maintain a semblance of my pre-isolation routine. I was able to interact with my peers and get feedback from my teachers in real-time.
Conversely, Jim was expected to learn from pre-recorded lectures, many taped during the previous year. He didn't have a real classroom set up where he could fully engage with his classmates, or even his professors.
I cannot imagine trying to learn material this way, especially while living alone. In fact, one of the least effective things I found in passing extended time by myself has been watching television. This is because television -- like the lectures Jim was instructed to watch -- is not interactive. I feel no sense of human connection while watching people's scripted, or even unscripted, lives unfold in front of me.
Secondly, I was able to gain more of a sense of human connection from utilizing technology. Unlike Jim, who is a few decades my senior, I'm a digital native -- I have grown up using technology and feel comfortable using it as primary means of communication. Even before Covid-19, I used FaceTime to speak to my family in Florida and my friends scattered across the country at other colleges.
Of course, online video calls cannot fully replicate those in-person interactions. But having them as part of my pre-pandemic routine helped me in transitioning my in-person relationships to virtual ones.
Oddly enough, the area we found the most common ground in -- the uncertainty of our short-term futures. Jim said he planned to return to school in the fall to complete his doctorate, but what he longed for most were the in-person discussions with students and professors. If he couldn't have that, it would force him to reconsider the approach he might take to finishing his Ph.D.
And I, as a music business major, may not be able to pursue my initial career path in booking live music events, considering that people will likely not be gathering in larger numbers for any events until there is a treatment or cure. Like Jim, I'm forced to adapt to the realities of Covid-19 -- at least in the short term.
When expressing these concerns to Jim, he kept reinforcing one point: flexibility. There is no rulebook on how to begin a career amid a global pandemic, and I need to be nimble and patient if I am going to land on my feet.
Jim provided great insight into my situation, and I encourage him to take his own advice. Just like most employers are struggling to figure out how to operate -- and even hire -- in this new reality, universities are, too. They need to figure out how to educate students in an engaging manner while staying financially afloat. Yet, if students can be flexible and allow the universities to explore a variety of options to deliver an engaging and meaningful curriculum (and universities commit to doing so), students may just be able to get something out of their academic experience.
Either way, I am certain Jim and I will soon be able to add a new skill to our resume: how to survive and thrive during a pandemic.
Katherine Howard is a recent graduate of Syracuse University's Bandier Program for Recording and Entertainment Industries.
As a non-traditional student who returned to school after retirement, I was excited about embarking on a new chapter of my life. When the pandemic began, I was completing a master's in computer information systems, before returning to my plans for a doctorate in the same field. But when the threat of the virus became too great, my university transitioned to full virtual operations. As a single man with family living on the East Coast, I was forced to finish my master's and graduate from my Fort Collins home -- entirely alone.
After nearly three months in isolation, I welcomed the opportunity to virtually discuss the challenges of living without direct human interaction -- and to do so with Katherine Howard, a recent graduate from Syracuse University, who also had to isolate on her own. Self-isolation, whether by choice or necessity, had impacted us both. While we shared similar survival skills, we also realized we were internalizing the experience differently. After speaking to Katherine, I felt her renewed optimism and hope for the future -- but also feared she and her fellow undergraduates might be in for a rude awakening.
As someone who has lived through and experienced other historical turning points, I am approaching my academic career with the same caution and flexibility I believe other students should during these uncertain times.
After September 11, 2001, for example, I had to reconsider my career. After serving many years in IT leadership positions, there was suddenly a shortage of employment opportunities at my level in the private sector. And so, I pivoted, moving to Washington, DC, to work for the federal government. As the country thought through its new security strategies, it needed people with strong technological skills to help lead the way forward.
I am now living through another seminal moment in history -- only this time it has led to a self-imposed isolation and a close reexamination of my academic future. After practicing increased flexibility and even more patience, I've managed to complete my master's online. Even though the country is slowly starting to reopen, I realize that I will likely be isolating for the foreseeable future. But after spending several months with me, myself and I, I've come to realize how much I need and depend on face-to-face contact. If I can't have it, then I have to examine the way I will continue my doctorate in the fall.
Like me, Katherine seemed to miss the loss of human contact, being thousands of miles from her parents and boyfriend, but she remained remarkably optimistic that this soon would pass -- and she'd be able to embark on life after college. She talked about a return to normal life like it was only a few short months away.
I, with a few more decades of life experience, felt differently. Just like 9/11 forever altered the country -- and the way we do security -- the pandemic was likely to impact the way we do business and travel in the months and years ahead. And the job market she was entering will be tenuous at first.
That said, Katherine and I both shared a commitment to getting through this tough time -- and employing whatever technological options we had to connect, if not in person, then virtually. We both had family that lived many states away from us, and we were determined to use video streaming platforms like FaceTime and Zoom to connect with them more regularly. We even resorted to good old-fashioned phone calls from time to time.
Though these forms of communication seemed to satisfy Katherine, they failed to do so for me. Sure, it was great to see the faces of my family or classmates, but there was no touch -- no feeling that comes from being in the literal presence of another.
And while I was impressed by Katherine's overall willingness to embrace the challenges of the time, I was also concerned. Even as America begins the process of reopening, it seems we are several months away, at minimum, from a vaccine for the virus. We are unlikely to return to "normal" anytime soon, and I told her as much.
While I understood Katherine's desire to kickstart her professional career -- and her justified anxiousness about just wanting to "get on with it" -- I also realized that a person seeking work in her field of live music would likely have to exercise a bit more flexibility and a lot more persistence. As an academic who has completed his master's and expects to continue with his doctorate this fall, I am, dare I say, more realistic. Even with a stock market that is slowly coming back, job opportunities will likely be limited in Katherine's chosen profession -- at least until a treatment or cure for Covid-19 helps strengthen our economy.
I cautioned her to look at her newly earned life in two stages: now through the next 6 to 12 months and then, hopefully, the resumption of what she justly earned. But this requires one keyword I keep returning to -- flexibility. In a professional sense, that means we all need to be willing to change how, where and when we deploy our talents. On a personal level, though, it means acknowledging that we are living under extreme -- and restricted -- conditions that we did not create, but which we must navigate to get to the other side.
James Fountain is a retiree turned graduate student at Colorado State University.