Accepting the idea of schools reopening normally in the fall requires a high tolerance for cognitive dissonance.
On the one hand, we have leaders at various levels, including President Donald Trump, Education Secretary Betsy DeVos, and their down-ticket ideologues, who argue that education at all levels — from preschools through universities — must resume face-to-face classes in a few weeks.
Their rationales are varied. The one that sounds most plausible — because it appears to put children’s needs first — is the emotional and educational toll the pandemic has taken on students.
To be sure, this is an important consideration. Children and young adults, like all of us, are social beings who thrive on interactions with others. Even self-described introverts have recognized the challenges of being isolated for long periods during this pandemic.
Students also don’t all experience school shutdowns in the same way. Minority students and children living in poverty have had a tougher time. Some students have limited or no access to the Internet, and some have taken on caregiver or even breadwinner responsibilities, making it harder to stay current with their studies.
Buttressing this concern about student welfare (some might even say superseding it), is the argument that schools are necessary to the nation’s economic fabric. Not going back to school, or going back on a staggered schedule, would mean that parents have to make tough decisions about employment and daycare.
These choices would have a dramatic effect on the country’s financial welfare, especially in an election year when votes will be predicated as much on economics as public health.
Recognizing this reality, President Trump has in recent days resorted to public shaming, calling out Harvard for its decision to go mostly online for the fall and threatening to cut funding for schools that don’t reopen. We’ve seen attempts by his administration to force universities’ hands by vowing to send international students back home if they take only online classes, knowing that these students, who are more likely to pay full tuition and therefore subsidize lower rates for American students, are financial linchpins for their schools.
At the primary and secondary level, we’ve seen a curious reduction to the oft-repeated social-distancing rule, from six to three feet, to acknowledge the reality that the former is unfeasible in most schools.
We’ve seen the Ohio High School Athletic Association replace one leader who expressed a more cautious attitude about the resumption of high-school sports with one who is perhaps more willing to get players back on the fields and courts.
And we’ve seen a lot of passing the buck, from the federal to the state to the local level, to make the hard calls about how to enforce recommendations for safety in schools, with little or no money — and sometimes less funding — to implement them. Plausible deniability for those at the top, perhaps.
The cognitive dissonance stems from these actions and decisions about education occurring even as, around the country, officials are stalling and even reversing plans to reopen other institutions because of growing numbers of COVID infections.
As I write these words on July 7, new cases are up 72 percent from 14 days ago, while new deaths are down only 8 percent over that same period. Governor DeWine has mandated public mask-wearing in seven Ohio counties, with more likely to come.
Columbus’s Center of Science and Industry (COSI) has delayed its reopening. The on-again, off-again Canfield Fair is off again. A growing number of GOP senators won’t attend the Republican National Convention next month because of virus concerns, even as the Trump administration has attendees sign waivers saying they won’t sue if they catch COVID at one of his mask-optional campaign rallies.
COVID outbreaks are often traced to situations where people have gathered in large numbers or where they live in close proximity — parties, funerals, nursing homes. These are the same sorts of clusterings that will occur when students return to campuses and classrooms this fall.
Little has been said of students who live with parents who may be at higher risks for complications from the virus, or the 7% of students who live with their grandparents.
Nor has much consideration been given to teachers and other staff, many of whom are in elevated-risk categories based solely on age. For instance, 37% of college faculty are 55 or older (compared with 23% of workers in general). Protecting the adults who interact with students must also be a priority.
As many people who read this column regularly know, I am a full-time high-school teacher and a part-time college instructor. I want nothing more this fall than to look out over multiple classrooms of students, conversing with them and allowing them to interact with each other.
I also recognize that “safety” is never assured. There always will be some degree of risk associated with anything worth doing — from crossing the street to sitting in a lecture hall.
But given all the unknowns with COVID — the concerns over how long it lingers in the air, the radically different ways it affects patients, the surging numbers even in the heat of summer, the lack of a vaccine or even effective treatments — and even acknowledging the emotional and educational needs of students, it would be prudent to take an overly cautious approach to school this fall.
Start slowly. Limit face-to-face interactions to a few times a week with smaller numbers of students, mandatory face coverings for all, frequent cleanings between classes, and an efficient system of shifting between in-person and online environments if or when infections spike.
It’s not perfect, but it’s not forever. Better this way than roaring full-throttle into the great unknown.
chris.schillig@yahoo.com
@cschillig on Twitter
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