The coronavirus has upended nearly every part of life as we know it, including education. Illinois chose to close all schools starting March 17th to stop the spread of the virus, which catapulted nearly every family into our own version of homeschooling. We’ve read about schools being a safe haven for students who need structure, support or may have food insecurity. We applaud teachers for doing the extra work to reach students amid closures. As a public school advocate and professor, it doesn’t escape my mind that we undervalue teachers and underfund education. However, school was not a safe haven for my daughter, it was the catalyst for anxiety and suicidal ideations.
A little over two months ago, my daughter was diagnosed with anxiety and depression, with expressed thoughts of suicide. She’s eleven. It wasn’t bullying, a toxic home environment or any number of threats we normally associate with this diagnosis in children. It was caused by the incredible academic expectations and workload imposed on her by her elementary school. Long nights spent completing 3-4 hours of homework, the stress of academic discipline if you didn’t have everything completed by class the next day, and a lack of support by administration gave our family cause to walk away altogether. On the brink of choosing a homeschooling alternative, COVID-19 disrupted the entire Illinois school system and all students were dismissed mid-March.
If South Loop Elementary School in Chicago is indicative of the state of public education, we should be vastly worried about what we are doing to the mental health of America’s children. We know that teachers put in long hours for little pay, funding for resources and supplies are scarce and bullying is a rampant issue. What we don’t discuss enough is how expectations to test well and get stellar grades are often driven by parents and administrators but directed at kids, the actual victims of what happens when we measure excellence by academic achievement. Many students are drastically overwhelmed by schoolwork but we continue to tell them to ‘tough it out’. We wouldn’t ‘tough it out’ at our own jobs; if we demand work-life balance in the office, why don’t we give our kids that same courtesy?
The Complexity of South Loop
I often refer to Chicago Public Schools as a real-life version of The Hunger Games; most would agree. Getting accepted into a perceived ‘good’ high school in this city is more challenging than gaining entrance to college. Much of the push for top Chicago schools is prompted by the fear of being zoned to your neighborhood high school or not being afforded the prestige of telling coworkers which esteemed program your kid got accepted into. At least that’s the case for many parents in the South Loop.
South Loop is particularly gifted at reacting off of fear. The neighborhood sits center between north and south Chicago, with more than modest household incomes and a familiar view of ethnic diversity that would make a socially conscious person feel good about illusions of progress. The neighborhood was more recently embroiled in a very public scandal of trying to turn National Teachers Academy (NTA), another neighborhood elementary school with a southern boundary, into a high school for the community. NTA made strides in academic achievements for predominantly minority children, but the fear from many South Loop Elementary parents of being zoned to Phillips Academy High after 8th grade caused a tumultuous battle between parents who truly supported the NTA way and those who couldn’t move past their own fears associated with South Side schools.
Let’s Talk Workload
We came to Chicago from the South in August of 2018. Facebook groups raved about South Loop Elementary School and I needed to find a place close to work. I’m a professor at a local college and my daughter is a vivacious, confident nugget of personality. Her fourth-grade year started off okay, albeit challenging shifting from one city to another. As she progressed, multiple issues arose that didn’t make sense. Students were given timed quizzes and tests on computers with no previous typing instruction. State testing was incentivized with parties, special favors, and trophies if you met your goal, a practice that not only excludes some children but doesn’t account for various ways a student could have a bad test day. The principal, Tara Shelton, was defensive at the idea of concerns by parents.
As my daughter entered fifth grade, the workload became overwhelming. Packets, apps, and special projects took hours to complete each night, often starting as soon as we got home and lasting well into 9 or 10pm. On average, her grade level classes are given roughly 2-3 hours of homework per night, which may often take longer depending on the student. This primarily comes from math and English language arts (ELA). Students may also tack on additional classwork that wasn’t finished during the day in any of their classes. What begins as a 3hr span sometimes turns into four or five hours…of homework. Let’s not forget that every once in awhile somebody will develop a pretty extensive project that students also get to work on at home. For most of us, our kids didn’t wrap up until very late and still had work left to do.
If our kids didn’t have work completed by class the next day, some would get check marks or stern conversations. Teachers never accounted for lack of access to technology or internet use and steadily responded to my frustrations by doubling down on their work policies. I asked for rubrics when grading didn’t make sense, none were given. Some teachers never responded to countless emails asking for clarification. Students would come home with work they either hadn’t covered in class or extensively covered to the point that it was simply repetitive annoyance (IF…I…SEE…ONE…MORE…ANNOTATION…WORKSHEET). Nearly all of the work students do is based on worksheets. In class, they do worksheets. At home, they do worksheet packets. This is supplemented by apps meant to diversify each child’s learning (meaning they work at their individual levels); namely, they use IXL and Freckle both in class and at home. In some classes, they utilize Google classroom to make presentations and parents get notified about classwork or updates via ClassTag.
Just in case you’re lost, we are too. To summarize:
- Parents get teacher messages via ClassTag, while students have:
- Weekly homework packets
- Daily work that turns into homework if not completed
- IXL
- Freckle
- and assignments or projects to be completed on Google Classroom.
Students have planners meant to help them keep up, but if you miss a day you are solely responsible for asking peers or teachers for any missed assignments.
Did I mention that these kids are eleven years old???
Imagine being a full-time working parent and your only interactive time with your child is cut short by intensive workloads by the school (not your job).
Why Doesn’t it Get Addressed?
Much of these stories go hidden at South Loop Elementary because of a few vocal overzealous parents who do not want scandal associated with where their child attends school. Fear, intimidation, and unyielding pressure are all eerily present behind masked enthusiasm. Many parents speak about it, in small groups and hushed corners of inboxes or text streams – ‘What the hell is going on at our kids’ school?’ Nobody would dare say it publicly because there’s a higher than normal chance that another parent, befriended by school admin, will screen capture posts or comments made on social media to forward along to the principal. None of us are eagerly awaiting the visceral reaction Principal Shelton normally dishes out when confronted with blatant school issues.
There is little discussion about what needs to be improved and, what’s worse, those of us who choose to speak out are often shot down or bullied by parents who spend countless hours volunteering at the school. As I soon learned, there’s a status that exists with the school your kid attends and the rating of that school. MY child attends South Loop! Yeah, we get it, Karen. Mine does too, and it’s wreaking havoc on our household.
The Result of Academic Pressure…
So what happened with my child? She became constantly overwhelmed and her confidence struck down when she didn’t meet the teacher’s expectations of completing work she simply didn’t have time for.
Around October, my daughter started writing about being an idiot. She cried nights because I made her go to sleep and she still had work to do. She’d sneak and stay up longer to get her reading done. I would constantly reinforce positive affirmations, scripture and help with schoolwork as much as I could. We can only catch so much until our children open up more. What I later found out was that sometimes she would crawl into a ball on the floor in a panic attack because she couldn’t concentrate on work anymore. Seven hours at school followed by a 30min break at home and working sometimes until 9PM every night was too much for her. Heck, that’s too much for anyone.
In January of this year, my beautiful, vivacious little girl began writing about thoughts of suicide. She wrote about not wanting to be alive and how frustrated she was at school. She called me numerous times to pick her up early from school – always at the same time: her lunch period. That was also the period right before her last two, and most challenging, classes: math and ELA. While she doesn’t particularly dislike her teachers, she doesn’t feel comfortable at eleven telling them that she’s overwhelmed by their workload expectations and that she feels anxiety before class because she may receive a disciplinary mark for an incompletion.
On the flip side, she thoroughly enjoyed science class and special projects in history, two teachers who not only intently listened to my concerns but also adjusted to our needs. She joined the chemistry club and her team placed in the local You Be The Chemist competition (a huge boost). Still, two classes couldn’t outweigh the academic pressures from other teachers.
I tried everything I knew to do: talking to specific teachers, to the principal. I observed the classroom (a struggle that turned out to be) and went to LSC meetings to express concerns. Which, by the way, there are too many LSC members dedicated to praising the principal and not enough actually willing to hold her accountable for the issues at that school. I voiced concerns on the parent Facebook page, which would ultimately get shut down by other parents who bully dissenters and only praise the school. I pushed back when we found out that the teacher’s aid given to fifth grade was only going to the classroom with the smallest size (class sizes are around 28, 36 and 36 between three classes). The classes are also grouped according to skill level, with some fifth-grade classes receiving different, higher-level work (the school denies it but the students know and I’ve seen the different homework packets each class gets). Parents asked for a 5th-grade parent meeting so we could voice concerns about anxiety our children faced. A meeting at which the principal tried to silence my concerns and told me she didn’t want to see me at the school every week after then (at this point we had a few meetings). At one prior meeting with the teachers and principal, I suggested an IEP or 504 for my daughter and was told by the principal that she wouldn’t qualify because her test scores were too high.
Finally, We Let the Homework Go and Aimed for a 504.
I told my daughter she wouldn’t have to do homework anymore and sent a letter to the teachers and principal that noted her challenges. It wasn’t worth it anymore. About a week later the school counselor called me to ask about my concerns. She explained that in order for homework not to count against her then I would need a 504 plan. I was told that I needed to get a formal evaluation by a psychiatrist and that they don’t take insurance for things like that. I was given an additional option of getting a diagnosis by her pediatrician.
What options do you have for your child if you’re instructed to pay out of pocket for an evaluation you cannot afford before you can get accommodations?
We made an appointment with the pediatrician and they concluded after a really careful evaluation that there was significant anxiety and mild depression – they wrote a letter to tell the school to immediately suspend my daughter’s homework. By this time, she had spent about a week without doing homework. Her behavior and esteem greatly improved! However, the school refused the letter from the pediatrician and the counselor suggested that I take my daughter to the emergency room so that she could be admitted as a suicidal psych patient and that would rush a diagnosis for the school.
Are you kidding me?! If there’s an immediate threat to life and safety I understand, but to rush a 504 process and spend countless thousands of dollars at a hospital for basic education service is an insane recommendation.
My daughter began therapy almost right away and her doctor was able to write an additional note. I formally (in writing) requested a 504 meeting. Nobody tells you that to bypass the strongholds schools use you need to put your request in writing, documenting everything.
In mid-February, we met with the school’s psychologist, social worker, 504 admin, nurse, and my daughter’s science teacher. I also brought along a parent advocate from the district. Her science teacher noted that my daughter didn’t appear anxious in her class and other teachers didn’t express concerns. However, she loved science and regularly masks anxiety in school to be perceived as more likable. There were multiple issues addressed at that meeting, from the social worker suggesting that she didn’t want my child to lose ‘stamina’ by decreasing workload to bringing up that my child’s grades are stellar so a 504 would be hard to implement. I countered that by reminding them that I don’t care about stamina in the face of mental health issues and her grades are a reflection of trying to please her teachers’ expectations while drowning herself in lengthy homework sessions.
They decided to proceed and give their final recommendation in the allotted time for CPS: 90 days. I decided that we would continue to suspend homework because ninety days to get actual help seemed ridiculous.
And Then…Corona.
COVID-19 came and parents were suddenly thrust into homeschooling their kids. Kids, on a lighter note, finally got a break from school expectations. Sure, they sent kids home with lengthy packets and I’ve pushed back when her math teacher sent an email about an online quiz in the middle of #QuarantineAndChill. I mean, why aren’t we taking a lack of access seriously? I recognize that my relief of having my kid home to relax is not the same for everyone and that there are significant challenges we all face right now. While some schools gave families some time to really relax, South Loop never really stopped pushing for academic achievement (I just tend to ignore it). It’s indicative of the parents who want their kids to overachieve so that they’ll land a coveted spot at Jones Prep. Many other parents, like me, were concerned about their kid’s mental health while school was in and just trying to navigate day by day while school is out. I set up a ‘Hey Girl Homeschool’ that’s been surprisingly uplifting for my daughter and gives me the opportunity to focus on core skills that weren’t being addressed at school.
Illinois just released plans for remote learning that starts March 31st. I wonder how this will be implemented at a school like South Loop, one who doesn’t fare well with diverse learners and pushes workload boundaries. As a professor who has also had to transition to remote learning, I can say with utter confidence that the state should’ve taken more time to figure this out. Parents who are eager to get their students educated have TONS of free resources online, and teachers haven’t really stopped sending plenty of things kids can do at home. The state laid out some careful guidelines that look well-meaning, but how will the oversight be managed? Is every teacher and administrator really thoroughly reading that 60+ page document? Will every parent have the basics reflected in communication from the schools?
There was no statewide survey to determine access, no breather for parents and kids who are trying to cope with the new norm, and, what’s probably most troubling, no training to transition to online instruction. Very few, if any, teachers have an understanding of online pedagogy, which is vastly different than traditional face-to-face time. Those who don’t understand the difference tend to assign larger amounts of work and some that are inaccessible (such as bandwidth needed to view videos or closed captioning not included in video tutorials). The intent may be there to make sure kids are still learning and that no child is left without a plan, however, at South Loop Elementary, where my child was not given safety in the school, I have excessive doubts that she will be cared for with remote expectations.
We don’t need apologies or sympathy. We need action. While understanding that some parents are okay with high academic expectations, what’s evidently clear is that those who donate more (time, money, resources) get the type of school they want, which is akin to private school education in a public school setting. That leaves predominantly black, low income, diverse learner or special needs children in a grim reality of being underserved and, quite often, pegged as problematic issues to discard from ‘productive’ educational environments. We can each recognize the incredible circumstances families face right now. Perhaps we need to take a moment and adjust to the pandemic crisis before we jump headfirst into remote learning.
Please Note: This article does not reflect the incredible work done by millions of teachers across this country or those exceeding expectations in the midst of a crisis. It is only meant to highlight the severe issues we faced in one school in Chicago and the underlying actions that allow for these things to continue.