School’s Out, Forever: Public Education After COVID
By: Gloria Panzera
Tags: Politics, Education, Covid 19, Schools, Teaching

Education

School’s Out, Forever: Public Education After COVID

What happens to public schools after this pandemic ends?

Photo by Wokandapix on Pixabay

When we went to pick up the things in his cubby at the end of the school year, his first, since this year was kindergarten, my son also received his yearbook. At least three times a week, I find him somewhere around the house just staring at the one page of pictures with his classmates. He will point to his friends and tell me the same stories about them as if he’s never told them to me before. He’s an only child, so most of the day it’s just the two of us. My child, who my husband and I often refer to as The Mayor, because no matter the situation, within minutes, everyone around knows who he is — struggles not being around his peers. He’s a social butterfly, and he misses school. He misses his friends, and he misses his teachers.

As is the case with so many children, and many children less privileged than my very lucky child, this pandemic has been hard on him. He did okay when his school went online, but I do think that’s in part because I’m a teacher and was able to keep him focused. I understood the software and apps and learning management system because while I was helping my son with quarantine school, I was also teaching my own high school students online. When this crisis started, I really hoped (maybe a little foolishly) people would take things seriously and stay home to help flatten the curve. Getting the virus under control would be the key to make sure students (and teachers) could go back to school safely.

Teacher Appreciation, But Make It False and Fleeting

Things were hopeful at first. There was messaging everywhere about how “We are all in this together.” Suddenly, my social media was filled with memes praising teachers. Memes about how parents would gladly purchase teachers strands of unicorn hair if that’s what it would take to have a successful school year. Privately, my teacher friends and I asked questions like, “Is the pendulum finally swinging in favor of supporting education?” The question seems silly now.

Now as summer winds down, kids are missing the safety and stability of school, stimulus checks are running out, people ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶ need to get to work, and the nation is confused about how serious this crisis is thanks to the continued mixed messaging at all levels about masks, what types of businesses can be open, testing availability, and the credibility of experts and information about the virus.

The contrast of seeing memes about parents wanting their children to return to school because they were struggling to have them do school online with images of protestors upset that businesses were closed because they wanted haircuts and to enjoy date night at a restaurant was confusing. Didn’t people realize that some sacrifices needed to be made in order to reopen the country? Then when states started reopening (pre-maturely), I had a sinking feeling about what would happen in the fall with schools. How could schools possibly keep the students and teachers safe at a time like this? How could hygiene be enforced when keeping soap in the student bathrooms was not a priority during safe times? The daily reminder by students re-entering my classroom about the lack of soap and unclean state of the bathrooms was staggering — usually multiple times during the same class period, I’d be interrupted by students needing hand sanitizer because “There’s no soap in the bathroom, Miss.” Most schools can’t get new, updated textbooks with updated curriculum, but now we’d have enough wipes and cleaning supplies to sanitize the room during class changes and enough supplies for each student to not have to share? Did people making these proposals know that at the start of each school year I personally spend hundreds of dollars to purchase supplies like hand sanitizer, Lysol wipes, and actual supplies for my students?

We Don’t Know What We Don’t Know

I wondered if I’d need to order masks for my students, and then have a plan in place for how to get them home to wash them without risking exposure to my family. I wondered if I should keep my son home and then maybe I could stay somewhere else because if I got my husband sick, our breadwinner would not be winning so much. How would we socially distance students and have enough teachers to keep classes small enough to be “safe”? My classroom is tiny and houses about 35–39 students. All of us jam-packed into a room with a window that doesn’t open. How would the room stay well-ventilated to protect us from an airborne virus? How would I manage online and in-person everything? What would happen if one or more of my students got sick? Would we all need to isolate? How would this impact sick days?

My husband and I had lengthy conversations trying to predict what would happen with schools. I kept hearing his logical thoughts.

“There is no way they can reopen with face-to-face instruction; the virus is still out of control.”

“No one is going to want to send their kids to school,” he pointed out. “And some people won’t have a choice but to send their kids, and then people will get sick.”

“Teachers are going to leave the profession.”

Of course, he was right. What would we do? Would we risk sending our only child to school? Should I go back to the work I love and risk getting us all sick?

So, You Want to Reopen Schools

Yesterday, Roy Cooper, the governor of North Carolina, announced that schools would be reopening with limitations. The reassuringly-named, “Plan B” will be in effect, with counties being able to decide if they will choose “Plan C,” all virtual learning. The justification for reopening schools is somewhat logical (I mean, not really). It mostly feels like lip service given the argument that politicians are making is that children need to be in school for their mental and emotional health and so that lower-income children can receive necessary services.

The services have always been important, and that is why they are provided at schools — I’m not going to argue with that, because it’s objectively true and valid. My frustration with the argument is not that schools are necessary for the emotional and mental well-being of children. Again, this is objectively true, but school in the fall will not be the social and emotional fix that children need. Students won’t be allowed to socialize in a way that is beneficial to their mental wellbeing. Recesses, class changes, group projects, lunch, and free play will not look the way it did before March of 2020. I’m also not convinced that the experience of going to school at 50 percent capacity, wearing masks, and not having the social interactions that are expected and necessary in school won’t be scarring and traumatic. I’m an English teacher. My classroom is grounded in class discussion, movement around the classroom, and group activities. We don’t sit in rows. We do a lot of talking. We sit close together. None of that will be possible come August. It’s foolish to think that students will get the same high-quality instruction when they enter classrooms in the fall, and not just because they will be forced to sit in rows, not be allowed to share materials, or enjoy the delights of a 22-minute lunch with friends. The quality of instruction won’t be there because of that huge something being largely ignored when it comes to reopening schools — the herd of elephants stampeding and screaming:

Teachers.

So, What Happens Next?

I’ve been thinking about this a lot. Gone are the days of visiting your high school alma mater and seeing your former teachers. You know, the teachers who have been in the same classroom for 25 years. The same teacher who taught you and all of your siblings. Your teachers are long gone. They’ve left to teach up North or worse, they’ve left the classroom altogether. That teacher that changed your life is probably selling insurance now, or something that doesn’t involve fielding parent emails and worrying if she will get shot during her quick run to the bathroom during her planning period. She gave up the classroom, a place she likely loved, to make more money doing something that’s not nearly as rewarding as facilitating a discussion with students who are making deep textual connections that send her into a full-blown cheer. Teacher turnover has been an issue for many states, especially Right-to-Work States, for at least two decades.

In places like North Carolina, where I have been teaching high school English for about 7 years, teachers have been leaving for the classroom at an alarming rate. A state that once had incredible programs to recruit teachers out of high school by awarding scholarships to top tier universities like the University of North Carolina Chapel Hill does not have the high enrollment they once did. So, not only are teachers leaving the classroom, young professionals don’t want to enter it either.

Fast forward to the pandemic, and teachers, already overworked and underpaid (please, save your “summers off” bullshit argument for someone else), are now the sacrificial lambs to get the American economy “rocking again.”

Throughout this process, teachers have felt voiceless. There are countless questions and unknowns that go along with the CDC guidelines and reopening schools even at 50 percent capacity. Questions teachers have been asking, but instead of being asked how we might deal with this crisis and solve these problems, we are largely ignored. In addition, decisions are being made with very little time to prepare.

Since March, school districts have been closed because of COVID-19. Why weren’t preparations made to prepare for fully online instruction? Meaningful online instruction. Teachers were scrambling in March, but if counties saw that cases were going up (as they have been, especially across the South), letting teachers know in May or early June that instruction was going to be online would have allowed the community time to roll out services to those in need, public-private partnerships could have been forged to make sure students who need access to the internet and technology would have it, and teachers could prepare engaging instruction. Now, we are scrambling to get the doors open for schools, and even in those preparations, the safety of teachers is largely being ignored. Hybrid models, which is what most counties in North Carolina have chosen, still exposes the teachers to all her students attending, and, of course, her colleagues. Let’s also not ignore the fact that this virus is airborne, and school buildings are notoriously not well-maintained, so while small cohorts of students might be returning to the classroom, teachers are going to be exposed to all of their students and colleagues. How is this safe for teachers? Spoiler Alert: It’s not.

As the state and counties ignore teachers (surveys don’t give teachers a voice, it’s a form of placating), as they have for several decades regarding testing, classroom size, and a slew of other issues, the safety and health of teachers and their loved ones are being put at risk, and, as mother nature suggests, animals are most dangerous when they are wounded.

What Will Public Schools Look Like After This Mess is Over?

I’m no psychic, but I do understand how patterns work, and the pattern of teachers leaving the classroom is not something new. I do, however, think the landscape of public schools will never look like what it once did when this virus subsides (if it subsides). For decades, school budgets have been slashed, class sizes have gotten bigger, teacher pay has been stagnant, benefits have been cut or premiums increased, and expectations of what teachers should be doing in the classroom have changed. It’s untenable, and the reason why teachers leave within the first five years.

What hasn’t changed is that teachers want schools to be open because we love our students. They are like our children. We come in early, we stay late, we make ourselves available to them, make sure they are fed. We dance and cheer when it’s time to teach Macbeth. We want to protect our students and help them learn compassion and empathy, even if that means they never figure out the quadratic equation or how to use a comma with a prepositional phrase. Hell, we are even willing to take bullets for our students, but now with this virus teachers are being asked to forfeit their lives and the lives of their families to pacify a society that didn’t want to do what was necessary to control this virus, which we know was possible because it happened elsewhere on the globe (And, yes, I know the lack of leadership, divisive rhetoric, and confusion has played a large role here, but I’ll save my political rants for another time).

Still, for many, enough is enough. In the next few weeks, teachers who have the means will leave the classroom. Many of the veteran teachers, who bring so much value to the profession because they are experts, will retire early. Young people who are new to the workforce who were considering a career in education will think twice and likely take their degrees elsewhere, to a profession that isn’t requiring martyrdom. Teachers who are uncomfortable and afraid to have their children return to school, will resign and stay home to school their children. This profession will lose immense amounts of talent and passion. And friends, this loss will be permanent.

Once this pandemic is over, hopefully, sooner rather than later, this talented and passionate group of educators will not return. The last phase of the dismantling of public education will be complete. Schools will be forced to hire people who are not well-trained and not called to be educators, expectations, and requirements to enter education will continue to diminish, as will the quality of the people who enter the profession. The turnover and expedited burnout of teachers will be one of the few consistencies in the industry. People who can afford it will put their children in private or charter schools, and, as is always the case, the students who need it most will be hit hardest by this destruction.

It is obviously impossible to predict the future, but we do know, from a quick study of history, that pandemics have a way of razing and changing aspects of society. I’m confident there will be innovations that come out of this time that will positively change our lives, but I’m not so confident education, especially primary and secondary education, will be so lucky.