Schools are to remain open in England. So says a government that, seemingly, worked out later than Twitter that herd immunity would cost a quarter of a million people their lives. It is the same government that is unable to clearly explain the logic behind not testing doctors and nurses on the frontline of fighting this virus. Teachers, therefore, can be forgiven for thinking that our leaders are, again, wrongly interpreting the facts.
The rationale for keeping schools open (though Scotland and Wales are closing theirs from Friday) has been that children do not seem to get seriously ill with Covid-19 and that closing schools would cause huge social disruption. Health and social care would suffer as workers remain at home looking after children; grandparents might be tasked with childcare when already at greater risk from the virus. Yet it still remains unclear what role children play in the spread of the virus.
On Monday morning at the secondary school where I teach in central London, and across the country, thousands of pupils, parents and teachers had approached the day with the weariness of those expecting the very worst but unable to take a different course of action. My school being open meant that I, despite my underlying health condition – asthma – needed to swallow the fear of contagion and turn up to do my job. School was abuzz with talk from pupils and staff about why we were there at all, and when the government might see the light and follow the rest of Europe by closing its schools.
Younger pupils, whose parents are concerned about them being home all day, were most likely to be in class. Those in higher year groups were, in some cases, nearly a third down. But as the day wore on and more pupils showed symptoms and were sent home, the mood began to turn. By the last lesson, when a student quipped with gallows humour that he was “dying to learn”, I was having to ask myself what, exactly, were we all doing there?
After school that day, we learned from the prime minister that the country was moving from the delay to containment phase, where mass gatherings were banned and people would be asked not go out “even to buy food or essentials, other than for exercise, and in that case at a safe distance from others”. The government’s insistence that schools remain open, even after such an announcement, only supports the notion that it is unable to grasp how schools actually function.
Over the weekend, in a group chat with teaching colleagues, I had joked that the closure of our prime minister’s alma mater, Eton College, meant it was one rule for the rich and another for the herd. Many colleagues have expressed a similar sentiment, believing that the government sees teachers and state-school pupils and their parents as expendable.
The National Education Union has asked for, though not received, modelling comparing different scenarios for school closures. As teachers, our anxiety and uncertainty is only deepened by the vague language of guidance and advice that the government insists on dishing out and the seeming inconsistency of its approach. Thus, in this moment of national crisis, Boris Johnson can advise that we protect ourselves and those who are vulnerable, yet make our doing so feel like the desertion of colleagues who we know are struggling to find their way through this emergency.
Already a number of schools have announced that they will be closing their doors. Simply put, there aren’t enough teachers; and ultimately, closing schools might be a decision taken out of the government’s hands. A fifth of teaching staff are, like myself now, already self-isolating. Classes are being collapsed and supply teachers are proving difficult to come by. While school staff can only be commended for working their way through the chaos and confusion, we are fast approaching the point at which the situation becomes untenable.
If closures happen without coordination, proper provision cannot be made for our most vulnerable children. How will children and families in volatile homes be supported through the stresses of illness and self-isolation? How, in the event of schools closing, does the government intend to support children whose only proper meal of the day is the one they have at school?
There are so many questions – and that’s before we ask whether GCSE and A-level exams are to go ahead in spite of such widespread disruption. So many questions and, as is proving a theme, so few answers.
• Lola Okolosie is an English teacher and Guardian columnist focusing on race, politics, education and feminism
