Duck and Cover: The COVID Crisis and Schools

I set out to write my blog this week about how I sort of standardize my Christmas list. You know, everyone gets a craft, everyone gets something musical, everyone gets something collectable, and everyone gets a book. It was prompted by a Facebook event for authors called Christmas in July.

But when I started crafting the post I bumped into this shopping memory: “The smell of fresh crayons, the stacks of lined paper, and the array of colorful folders stacked on the shelves at my local store. School supplies always seemed to emerge shortly after Independence Day. There would be a flurry of activity in my house; energy bubbling with the thought a new school year of possibilities.”

Yes, that’s what it was like for my children this time of year.

Then came COVID-19.

There appears to be a divide about whether or not schools should open. Regardless of the resiliency of the young, many factors come into play. I don’t have the answers, but having spent more than thirty-five years in education I do have concerns on both sides of the debate.

Distance learning is available…but not for everyone. And as good as it may be, online learning isn’t as good as face-to-face interactions.

For some children, school offers the only meal they will eat every day.

Even if parents are working from home, it doesn’t mean they will have time to instruct their children or even offer support. Not all parents know how to teach. Some don’t even know how to read. And not all parents are in jobs where they can work from home.

To expect young children to social distance and wear a mask all day is unrealistic. Let’s face it. If adults who are able to understand the need for social distancing consider it unrealistic for them to do, how can we expect it of children?

Despite all the precautions, children may carry the virus home to their families.

The news last night reported the decisions of several school districts in the area where I live. They interviewed several principals and superintendents. Here are some of the quotes from the broadcast:

“Students will form a line each morning outside the school for a wellness check. Temperatures will be taken before students are allowed to enter the building.”

“Children second grade and up will be required to wear masks all day.”

“Students will be given assigned seating at lunch. Assigned seating is necessary for contact tracing purposes.”

“There will be no recess. Instead our teachers are planning socially distanced ‘brain breaks.’ And our staff will be required to wear masks at all times.”

“We will be issuing shields to our teachers for them to wear in addition to their masks.”

As I watched the news, I felt as if I were living in the Twilight Zone. Only one school district in the area has made a definite decision to close for the first semester, taking a watch and see stance for the second semester.

I know teachers. Teachers will do whatever they are asked to do. They will come up with creative ways to make the school experience one that is as positive as it can be for their students. 

But I cannot help but wonder what toll all of this this will take on our children. And their families. 

My husband lived near MacDill Air Force Base in Tampa during the Cuban missile crisis. It was a brief moment in time, not the entire school year, but the fear and uncertainty overshadowed every aspect of his school experience for a while. MacDill was a likely target. Students had to carry a jug of water every day to school in case there was a missile attack. I guess the water was to offer assurance they would at least have fresh water to drink. Water that had not been polluted by radiation fallout. 

Unannounced drills were held throughout the week. It was called "Duck and Cover." Students had to get under their desks to protect themselves from nuclear bombs. Seriously. Films were made to teach students what to do during an attack. 

As I said, it was short lived. 

That crisis lasted only thirteen days though the protective measures in schools continued for the remainder of the semester. Tom and I laughed at some of the notions and actions taken in response to Russian missiles located just off the coast of Florida. Yet he told me it is all he really remembered about the first semester of that school year. 

Fear. Uncertainty. A little boy lugging a gallon of water to school every day in case he needed it for survival.

Fortunately, his mother was a voice of reason during the time. If she was frightened, Tom never knew it. She was a stay-at-home mom. She was a cub-scout den mother. She assured her three sons all was well with the world and the issue would soon be resolved. And it was. 

Thirteen days. 

We are facing a year or more of fear and uncertainty. As I said, I don’t have the answers. None of us do. Children are resilient. True. But they are also impressionable. 

What are your thoughts? Should all students return to the classroom? Some? Any? How do you think this crisis will impact our future? And please…please share the good you see coming from all of it.