Can I Get Some Grey in Here?
By: Feelin The Grey
Tags: Schools, Covid 19, Pandemic, Teachers, Risk

Virtually all of us today are bound together by a common pervasive feeling of despair. We are all simultaneously experiencing an emotional grey on a scale previously rarely imagined. And yet with each of us living under a cloud of grey, I’m struck by how humanity fails to appreciate the greys in almost all of our daily interactions.

The virus is either extremely deadly, or a hoax. The fires plaguing California are either a direct cause of global warming, or a clear sign of government incompetence. We must either keep schools closed for all students for months on end, or else open them to all ages, without masks.

How did we get to a place where the vast majority of intelligent, thoughtful, empathetic humans can only see in black and white, in all or none? When did we stop appreciating nuance, and reveling in the creativity that comes when we allow for blurred lines?

My life, like many, has been upended by COVID-19. As my partner and I work full time from our home “office,” (read: garage, car, closet, but rarely the desk that is in clear view of our children), we struggle to figure out just how we will raise our five-year-old and eight-year-old. But in that struggle we have an explicit dialog about how to balance risk and reward. We choose, daily, between mental health (dare I admit to occasional play dates inside friend’s houses?!), and physical health. We choose, painfully, between our career growth and our kids’ need for attention. And we are always conscious of our privileged position in this calculus: we are healthy and young, and armed with good health insurance — facts that we absolutely consider when balancing our risk tolerance with the normalcy we desire.

I’m frustrated by the lack of real dialog about risk and reward on a macro scale. At a recent (virtual) local school board meeting in Northern California, a sketch of a plan was put forth that would have paved the way for a tiny cohort of children to come back to campus for as little as one hour per week: homeless children, children with special needs, children who are falling far behind. The sum total of children in consideration would have surely represented less than 4% of the student population, for less than 4% of standard school hours.

Within minutes the plan was shot down categorically by numerous teachers, dialing in over Zoom, as being too great a risk to them and their loved ones. There was not a single person who mentioned just how distanced the teachers and students could be in such a low density scenario. There was no honest discussion of creative solutions that become even more practical and affordable with such a small student population. For example, no mention of outdoor instruction, no mention of hazard pay for teachers who volunteer themselves for the positions, no mention of proactive COVID testing surely achievable for such a small population, no mention of surveying teachers for those who may have already had the virus and recovered, or for those who feel particularly high or low risk. For the most outspoken representatives of the teacher’s union, it seems that zero risk was the only risk deemed acceptable for all in the class, and of course a fallacy in itself.

But the moment most absurd of all — and that which precipitated this essay — was when some teachers voiced allegations of hypocrisy. Some teachers used their precious two minutes of public comment time to argue that no teacher should need to risk stepping foot in a classroom until school board members themselves resume in-person board meetings. This “eye for an eye,” or rather “infection for an infection,” mentality was regrettably entertained by the board, rather than being called out as the vindictive idiocy that it is. This begrudging mindset, on full display, epitomized the fact that our society is not engaging in a real discussion along a risk-reward continuum.

As with literally every decision in life, we should always weigh risk against reward. Virtual school board meetings have almost certainly had higher engagement and public participation than any previous in-person board meetings. The public access has been unparalleled; it is easy to argue that virtual school board meetings should be here to stay. The risk/reward calculus is clear.

Riding a bike, eating raw eggs, attending a rally, taking a hike — each must be weighed in its own right. We should remember we are lucky to live in a country in which we can still choose which activities to engage in and which to avoid. But we should also deeply internalize that each of these activities falls under some shade of grey, different hues for you and me. Let’s encourage each other to choose a grey, weighing not just the risks but also the benefits, and put our energy towards creating nuanced solutions within those colors. I, for one, have a hard time believing that not 4% of the teacher population would volunteer to resume in-person education for 1 hour per week, with a greatly reduced class size, perhaps with some sort of perk attached … earlier retirement, or increased sick days, or some similar concession.

Lastly, let me just state: I have the greatest respect for school teachers. I think they are terribly undervalued, critical members of our society. I think their jobs are extremely demanding and their salaries are ludicrously low. I would gladly pay school teachers four times their current salaries with my tax dollars. My sister is a school teacher, and I am in awe of how much she has sacrificed for a career of service.

I know that every person needs to make their own decisions about personal health and risk tolerance. For some with the means to do so, that may mean indefinitely confining themselves in the safety of their home. But please, please, let’s focus our energy on designing hues of grey that some, surely not all, can live with. If we cannot thrive in a vibrant, technicolor world right now, let’s at least coexist in a version better than strictly black and white.

Want to start a dialog? Contact feelin.the.grey@gmail.com