Source: KappanOnline.org

Virtual school was bad. What happened afterward was even worse. By and large, media outlets looked the other way. 

By Jennifer Gaither

The name Baltimore City College may not mean much to the rest of the world, but it means a whole lot to people who live in Baltimore.

Baltimore City College, or “City,” founded in 1839, is the third oldest public high school in the nation and is typically ranked in the top high schools in the city and state.

It enrolls students selectively, using a composite score based on grades and standardized test scores. Its enrollment is 66% Black. It is also the only Baltimore City public high school to offer the prestigious International Baccalaureate (IB) diploma.

Before COVID-19, City was a school where academic excellence and educational equity were central to its mission. Students feared earning anything less than an A. “I was terrified of failing. I would study my butt off,” said McKenzie, Class of 2023.

But just a few years later, that culture had changed. “Failing isn’t failing anymore,” McKenzie admitted.

At City and so many other schools, the pandemic response didn’t just disrupt learning for a few weeks. It dismantled the culture that once supported student success. Long after schools returned to in-person instruction, students struggled to find motivation and connection, administrators implemented harmful policies, and educators began treating students with indifference rather than care.

This is the story of how virtual learning broke school culture, how administrators failed to rebuild it — and how media coverage overlooked the human toll of these failures.

People want to do good, but sometimes it’s easier to look the other way.

Other than ProPublica’s Alec MacGillis, journalists don’t seem to want to know what the kids are going through.

THIS IS THE STORY OF HOW VIRTUAL LEARNING BROKE SCHOOL CULTURE, HOW ADMINISTRATORS FAILED TO REBUILD IT — AND HOW MEDIA COVERAGE OVERLOOKED THE HUMAN TOLL OF THESE FAILURES.

This is the first in our 5th anniversary series about the media’s coverage of schools’ response to the COVID pandemic. To protect sources’ privacy, some names have been changed.

Schools, like businesses, thrive or falter based on their culture.

As the school’s former librarian and IB Extended Essay Coordinator, I watched that culture unravel.

For years, I had worked to transform the IB program into a pathway for underserved students to build skills for higher education. From 2014 to 2018, the number of students passing the Extended Essay grew from 28 to 109. Even during virtual school, I continued helping over 100 students annually achieve passing marks.

But the pandemic shutdown tested this culture, and prolonged remote instruction eventually broke it. During eighteen long months of virtual school, many students failed classes and “lived to tell the tale.”

Teachers delivered lessons to muted microphones and blank screens, while students grew isolated and overwhelmed. Schools claimed they taught without most students learning anything.

“I just don’t try as hard as I used to,” admitted Korie, Class of 2024.

Eighteen months of online learning may feel like a blip to adults, but for students, it defined their high school experience. It shaped their view of education and deepened the disconnect between students and adults, leaving many feeling misunderstood and unsupported.

TEACHERS DELIVERED LESSONS TO MUTED MICROPHONES AND BLANK SCREENS, WHILE STUDENTS GREW ISOLATED AND OVERWHELMED.

Administrators told me that student engagement would rebound once we returned to in-person. But that didn’t happen.

The problem wasn’t the students or even the technology; it was the indifferent culture we created during virtual school. Upperclassmen, who traditionally model expectations and mentor younger students, had spent their formative years online.

“When we were freshmen, we had upperclassmen to set us to some standard,” said Dequan, Class of 2023. “I had a lot of senior friends. That’s why I would carry myself a certain way.”

The new post-pandemic upperclassmen couldn’t provide that example. The rituals, routines, and social dynamics that make student leadership meaningful had been lost.

“What do you need a teacher for?” McKenzie asked. “Google has the answers before I even think about asking my teacher.”

At one point, students had to fill out a Google form indicating their mental state to enter the library. A student told me he had been selecting “feeling depressed” all year. No one ever contacted him about it.

After nearly 18 months of short, virtual classes, districts mandated 90-minute periods and classes starting at 7:30 a.m., even earlier than before. Events were canceled, and sports teams were used as tools for compliance, not community.

Behavioral issues surged. Fights, drug use, and vaping became rampant. Administrators responded with strict(er) policies, but these often backfired.

Bathrooms were locked to prevent vandalism, leaving students with no place to escape. “I just want to cry, but the bathrooms are locked!” one student screamed.

This was the paradox of post-pandemic school culture: administrators were trying to manage chaos, but their solutions often made things worse.

In the early morning hours, early arriving students who had previously been allowed to hang out inside were now forced to stand outside in the cold and the dark while their teachers walked by them into a warm, safe building.

“They know we’re out here and the teachers and everybody don’t say anything,” one student said.

Virtual school showed schools what they can get away with, and that is how many continue to treat kids. But this is not how you treat your best students.

VIRTUAL SCHOOL SHOWED SCHOOLS WHAT THEY CAN GET AWAY WITH, AND THAT IS HOW MANY CONTINUE TO TREAT KIDS.

When I tried to bring attention to these issues, an administrator told me to focus on the students coming up from middle school because our current students are another “lost generation.”

The term “lost generation” originally referred to the young men who died in World War I. But our students weren’t killed in a war. They are lost, though. How could they not be? We took away everything a human needs to thrive, then wrote them off while they sat in our classrooms. They’re lost because of what we did. Or failed to do.

Schools can’t improve if we ignore their culture. Culture isn’t just a buzzword; it’s the foundation of everything schools do.

Adults need to take responsibility and make amends. I believe that still needs to happen.

There was a lot of denial from good people who wanted to believe they weren’t hurting kids.

But the truth is, we did.

Jennifer Gaither is a former Baltimore Public Schools librarian. You can view a compilation of videos of her students’ struggles (and her journey from award-winning librarian to disillusioned outcast.) You can follow her on X and Instagram.