The True Consequences of the Corona Virus on Schools…

I woke up with a start at 5:18a.m. on a Saturday, talk about things that don’t happen on the weekend! You see, I am a highschool educator. I live pretty far from my school, so I have quite the commute. 3a.m. starts to my day, in fact. So what that means is, that on the weekend, I don’t get out of bed early at all, but this morning, I was forcefully hurled out of sleep, the interaction, I’d had with one of my scholars on my mind. 

Michael was his name, actually, it wasn’t, but for the purposes of this article, we will call him Michael. I got called to one of the classrooms of our newly established Remote Learning Centers. Remote Learning Centers were started for our highschool scholars to provide support for those who were seriously struggling academically and emotionally with remote/virtual learning. It was supposed to be a study hall of sorts, where scholars would have a quiet, focused space, that provided internet, food, and whatever materials and support our children needed to get back to the business of learning. We had been in operation for two weeks thus far. 

But back to Michael, I got called to his classroom because apparently he was “goofing off” instead of doing work, as evidenced by his Go Guardian surveillance dashboard-that signaled excessive Youtube and anime watching, rather than the zoom classroom session he was supposed to be attending. When I arrived at the classroom door, Michael was hunched over his chromebook, hoodie snugly nestled over his little head, hand to chin, blankly staring at his chromebook screen. A posture meant to present the facade of someone doing work. 

When I got to the threshold of his classroom door, I walked into the room ¾ ‘s of the way and gestured to Michael to come and talk with me. “Hey Michael, step outside with me for a minute,” I said. He moved hesitantly, but eagerly if that’s at all possible, and pointed to himself as if to say to me, without words, “you want to talk to me.” “ Yes”, I said, “YOU”.  Here we were, both enveloped in newness. Me, new to the building, Me, new AP. He, new to the upper floors of the building (the middle school where he was in attendance last year is downstairs on the lower floors), He, new 9th grader. “ So, what’s going on kid, why am I hearing that you are not doing work?” Are you confused, frustrated, bored?” My tone is stern but warm. Sensing the formal tone of our conversation, Michael initially uttered no response. “Hello, use your words, what’s going on?” “I’m bored!” Michael said in a timid (attempting to scope me out), but exasperated tone, “I’m bored!” “Really”, I said, “How can you be bored when you have loads of work to do.” “Tell me, Michael, what are your grades looking like?” He sheepishly looks up at me and starts to fidget and lean against the wall. After a few seconds with no response, I said, it’s actually a rhetorical question, Michael, because any scholar who is here for Remote Learning Centers are struggling quite a bit, I just wanted to hear you say it, to see if you were aware of the reason why you are here and the gravity of your situation.” “ I know he says, but I don’t actually need school to be successful”. My eyes open wide and my jaw drops at his statement, “What, what am I hearing, you don’t need school, tell me more about this grand plan of yours, clearly, you must have a plan if you believe that you don’t need school to be successful.” More silence, more hesitation, a deeper roll into the wall. He says, “I know a kid who is not in school right now and he is successful.” “He’s 14 years old, and a YouTuber.”  I say, “he doesn’t go to school, he’s a Youtuber, Youtube famous I take it! And how do you know he doesn’t go to school.” He looks at me equally wide-eyed at this point, communicating with his eyes, “Ms. how do you not know this, and with a tone of shock and serious disbelief in my lack of knowledge on the subject, he says, “He’s a YouTuber, *deep sigh*, eye roll. 

“Okay!” I say, “Well, I think he goes to school, he’s probably homeschooled, because to not go to school, would be legal issues for his parents.” He says, “Yes, Ms. he is homeschooled.” “Aah okay, and I take it you desire, the same, to be homeschooled, so you can become a famous Youtuber.” “Yes! He says, again in an exasperated tone, again frustrated with my lack of knowledge on his grand plan. So I asked, “well what does your mother think about this plan.” He says, now in a lowered tone, but with clear respect and admiration for his mom, “She’s not going to let me stay home, she says I have to go to school.” “Why”, I ask. He says because that’s what she says, I said well did you tell her your grand plan, no he says, she’s just going to tell me that I have to go to school, she’s not going to let me stay home.” And then it happens, I say, “Is that what you really want, to stay home?” As I ask the question, I lean in, my eyes narrow, and lock in with his. This was the piece that I missed when we were together, that woke me up with a start, far too early on a Saturday morning. He says, “Yes I want to stay home, but she’s not going to let me, and it doesn’t matter anyway, because, “ We just got started and now it’s all over!.” His body hunches, he leans deeper into the wall and slumps in a way that signals not relief, because his wish is about to be granted, whether his mother desires it or not, but his body slumps in frustration and sadness. That’s what I missed, I was so focused on what he was saying that I didn’t hear what his body language was actually communicating. You see, Michael didn’t actually want to stay home. Michael wanted to be in school! 

Prior to my arrival at the threshold of Michaels, Remote Learning Classroom, Michael had heard the announcement that next week, would be the last week of Remote Learning and we would go back to being 100% virtual because Coronavirus cases were increasing in this zipcode of New York City and school was closing down yet again. When I realized what Michael was really saying, I started to have flashbacks of Michael at arrival each morning, since Remote Learning Centers, he would come bounding up the stairs,and happily bop and step into his classroom. Michael was excited. I noticed that Michael had been pulled out of class quite a few times to talk with teachers and one of our school social workers, and not because he was in trouble but because he initiated the conversations, expressing a desire to want to talk with someone about how he was feeling and school. And now here we were having this highly illuminating conversation in the hall, where Michael’s body language was communicating grief from loss. Michael was screaming for connection. He was happiest when he had the opportunity to just sit and talk with the adults in the building. He loved the attention, the intellectual stimulation, and the connections he was building with his school community, and now, it was about to all be taken away from him. Michael was hurting, and now with this revelation so was I. 

Up until this point, my worries with school reopening were around safety, “ Is it safe for our children and staff  (predominantly people of color) to come into the building for school? Are we putting them at risk of exposure to a virus that is killing us, not because we have compromised immune systems and are weak, but because of a lack of access to quality healthcare, misinformation or a lack of information in our communities, and political practices steeped in racism and systemic oppression? My concerns were around the opportunity gap as this digital divide continues to prevent our scholars from learning. I was worried about how the ills of poverty were now magnified with our scholars having to stay home. On a very minute scale, almost an afterthought if you will, was I considering the emotional harm and damage that this was inflicting on our scholars and families. 

As well intentioned as we were, by opening remote Learning Centers and now having to close them, what we had actually done was recreate the experience of loss and abandonment that society has already perpetuated for our black and brown children. The Rona had rejected them yet again and taken away their sense of self, stability, and a sense of belonging and acceptance that school provides. In a world that already forces black and brown children to grow up earlier than they need to, that robs  them of their innocence, where they are constantly exposed to media flashes of black and brown bodies being harmed and abused on a daily basis in their communities, we cannot forget the emotional toll that this is taking and must be mindful not to recreate feelings of loss and abandonment where they have already experienced so much. 

I am clear that The Rona is not within my control, but what I can control is the systems of support and the advocacy that I  provide for my scholars. I can be mindful of the way that I show up for them and ensure that when I show up it is from a place that is focused on their emotional well being, on their humanity, and from a place of deep love for the community that I serve. And not just from a standpoint of academics and logistics. As an educator who looks like and comes from a background similar to that of my scholars I have to remember that as emotionally taxing as this situation is for me, it is equally taxing on my scholars. The point of this article is to highlight the greatest impact of the Rona on black and brown communities. The greatest impact is a loss of connection, a loss of relationship, and a loss of self. Please don’t forget how much our children love and need us during this critical time and let it be the focal point for all the decisions we make as we continue to navigate this uncertainty.