How Teachers Can Help End this Pandemic
And why they’ve been underutilized
It was the dead of winter and my virtual class was suffering from a unique form of fatigue, an academic weariness unfathomable prior to the pandemic. By then, the class freely admitted missing school — traditional school, the brick and mortar kind.
It was during this time of sunken spirits, on an unusually cold blustery day, that I waited in line outdoors for nearly two hours to get my vaccine. Armed in ski gear and gripping “Little Hottie” hand warmers, recounting my tale of resolve and preparation would have no doubt made for a great teachable moment for my students. And as much as I knew my story would have been a symbol of hope to my students that we were nearing the end of many months of seclusion and online learning, I declined to mention it.
After my second shot, I popped some Advil to manage my fever and revealed nothing to my students. Feeling much worse than I anticipated, I definitely didn’t want to let on.
I never much questioned my reticence until one day in May. May was the month that children 12 to 15 became eligible for the COVID vaccine. Traditionally, my 5th graders turn eleven, but I had one student who was twelve. When he returned to school after his vaccination, my co-teacher broke the news by congratulating him in front of the whole class.
The class cheered (and added an excess of cute and candid congratulations in our virtual meet’s chat box with a fervor only 5th graders can muster) for our class’ vaccinated pioneer. Privately, I held my breath. Should my co-worker have just done that? Should I have told my students? Should we have talked about it? The news inadvertently caused a flurry of questions I had buried under the whirlwind stress of a school year like no other.
Because, as you may recall, this wasn’t just the year of the pandemic. This was the year of a presidential election like no other, the year of an insurrection at the Capitol like no other, and the year of climate crises like no other.
We were asked not to bring up the election to our fifth graders, who traditionally learn about U.S. government and discuss current events. After the insurrection, we were given a script to read from, should any student bring it up. We were supplied with lessons and resources to help students cope with the growing anxieties and prolonged seclusion.
Group therapy became a teacher’s gig but we were also heavily primed to stay apolitical. We became masters of walking on eggshells while simultaneously spearheading positive learning environments on a virtual plane.
Additionally, we were asked not to bring up our vaccination status with co-workers, because, you guessed it, that too became a source of contention. So I suppose by remaining silent I was just following the unspoken “don’t ask, don’t tell” protocol of a teacher’s 20-21 school year.
But, this too was unprecedented and, as I’ve come to realize, wrong.
Because, ironically, through all the frenzy of the past school year, through stifling feelings of helplessness and turmoil, the cheers of my students inadvertently jolted me into a teacher-existential crisis.
But something else happened that ruffled my feathers this spring. Conservatives took up arms against educators, infesting board meetings and squawking baseless accusations that young minds are being corrupted with Critical Race Theory. As I cringed at the sound of angry PTA moms’ vitriol on the media, I couldn’t help but think that while the latest medieval witchhunt is certainly absurd, they are hunting the right witch. In other words, while educators are at the root of civil society, most couldn’t tell you a lick about Critical Race Theory.
To quote Horace Mann, the father of public education, educators are the “most effective force of civilization.” So as the public school ‘sorcerers’ proliferate their magic, known to the sanely educated as knowledge, teachers can, will and always cast decisive spells on society in ways that no one else could.
Horace Mann understood that teaching, by design, invokes change. He had the foresight in the 19th century to recognize that public schools, host to all children regardless of social class, race, ethnicity, or religion, should therefor serve as the bedrock of America to “instill common political and social philosophy.” Through much of history, educators were the driving force of assimilating immigrants and guiding all young Americans to become active participants in our society in order to maintain stability and harmony in our democracy.
So given the principles that the American education system were built upon, it is unsurprising that schools have been at the heart of promoting public health for over a century. While every public school in the nation today has mandatory vaccinations, child vaccination mandates have existed since the turn of the 20th century. The first mass vaccinations in the United States, diphtheria and smallpox, were often administered in schools.
In fact, receiving vaccinations used to be seen as a sign of patriotism and a demonstration of good citizenship. In the Spring of 1954, through funding by President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s initiative the March of Dimes, community school members, which included school boards, principles, teachers, nurses, and the PTA, organized the largest clinical vaccine trial to date. Over 1.3 million children participated, eventually leading to mass polio vaccinations and effectively ending the polio epidemic in America. Parents stepped up and students willingly rolled up their sleeves.
Today, across the country children are being hospitalized at a rate of over 200 per day, exceeding child hospitalization numbers from the height of the pandemic in January. Many are eligible to be vaccinated and much of these children had an unvaccinated family member test positive first. Numbers are on the rise and the new school year is upon us.
In an effort to ensure the safety and success of a new school year, state and local school officials are beginning to mandate school staff vaccinations. But vaccinated educators have the potential to do more than wield their vaccination record to school authorities. First, in districts that are following guidelines from the CDC (and even more importantly in districts where they’re not), teachers naturally serve as health and safety role models. After all, demonstrating a community model for the common good is precisely what teachers work so hard to do each year.
Equally important, school leaders and educators should take the helm in doing what they do best: teach. Teachers should teach students safety precautions, how germs spread, and the importance of this vaccine and all other mandatory vaccinations in preventing the spread of dangerous pathogens. Similarly, schools should organize family outreach to school communities to ensure that all families have the same accurate and up-to-date information.
The CDC has a new website for schools and educators, resources that can help school leaders disseminate accurate information about the vaccine: How Schools Can Promote COVID-19 Vaccination. In regards to public health, educators should no longer be coerced to tiptoe around a minority of anti-vaxxers, conspiracy theorists, or those that lack the trust and good citizenship that democracies depend on. Educators should once again partner with the U.S. health initiative to end another health crisis.
It’s a shame that educators have been underutilized, pawned into censorship by a soured political climate bombarded with fear and misinformation. This year the stakes are too high. Educators are still “the most effective force of civilization” and indeed may very well be the missing link of community trust needed to end this pandemic.
As our fully unvaccinated population of elementary school students make their way to school, with the delta variant raging and less mandatory masks and social distancing than last year, these students should know their teachers are vaccinated. They should see their teachers as models for mitigating the spread of the virus. And they should trust in their teachers to tell them accurate information rooted in science.
