The (sick) kids aren’t alright: Observations from a teacher with Long COVID

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We must help students by addressing Long COVID and advocating for clean air in schools.

Collage graphic with two dark silhouettes, one of a young man and one of a young woman, against a background photo of a school hallway, with linoleum walls and red lockers on either side of the image.
Miles Griffis / The Sick Times. Source: Getty Images Signature, Canva Pro, Pexels

A few months ago, one of my math students mentioned having virtually no sense of smell after more than three confirmed SARS-CoV-2 infections. 

Since 2020, disease has held a constant, detrimental grip on classrooms across K–12 (and higher) education. After school holidays, I often heard coughing down the hallway for days, if not weeks. There were many days where classes had only half of their students in attendance. Even our most senior teachers constantly fought to help students retain material for a week, let alone a semester.   

The quiet normalization of COVID-19 in our society has come at the great expense of school-age children and adolescents. As a teacher with Long COVID who recently left in-person work after two years in my most recent position — a decision that ultimately came down to my own health and well-being — I observed concerning student behaviors that cannot solely be chalked up to technology, “immunity debt,” or whatever else pundits have blamed. 

I am certain that many of my former students are among the millions with Long COVID. A study in the journal Pediatrics estimated as many as 5.8 million children were affected in the U.S. as of early 2024 — already outpacing the 4.9 million children with asthma, formerly the most common pediatric health condition. Other studies suggest that reinfections can increase the risk of developing long-term symptoms, and that Long COVID can occur even after asymptomatic cases.

Academically speaking, the neurological challenges are among the most concerning Long COVID effects. The cocktail of COVID-19 and other pathogens that ran through my school every week, not just in the winter, kept students sicker and sicker — not for a day or two, but often for over a week at a time, sometimes more than once a quarter. 

When students are consistently tired, struggling to keep track of basic conversation, and unable to focus, it’s no wonder that they often miss school. One 2025 study concluded that children with Long COVID were more than twice as likely to experience “illness-related chronic absenteeism” than those without, defined by at least 18 missed school days in 12 months. Studies like these can also leave out students pressured to attend school due to stringent attendance policies at public schools, especially in the U.S.

Aside from the missed material in class itself, multiple students returned from sick days with what I have called “cognitive shell shock”: large and sudden gaps in prior knowledge and a deep, constant exhaustion in the classroom. For some of these students, trying to be aware and mentally present with friends at school became a Herculean feat in and of itself.

For some of these students, trying to be aware and mentally present with friends at school became a Herculean feat in and of itself.

The documented increase of COVID-linked “neuropsychiatric” diagnoses and the increased percentages of students eligible for disability support go hand in hand. In at least one of my classes, more than half the students had documented accommodations. Many of the practices behind these accommodations spread to my entire class by necessity. Though I am a strong advocate for these supports and for inclusive learning, I frequently worried about their needs and difficulties becoming impossible to manage, even in a more accessible, accommodating world.

For example, one of my students started having migraines in her preteen years — accompanied by nausea, vomiting, and extreme light sensitivity — after contracting COVID-19. It is a miracle she accomplished anything in the fluorescent purgatory of our school. 

Some students have food-related symptoms, such as excessive abdominal pain and related gastrointestinal symptoms that keep them from eating a meal, let alone learning and working. Others still have extreme food sensitivities. After returning from a period of illness, a student of mine relayed efforts to our staff of trying multiple diets for foods she could tolerate again, as most of her previously safe foods were no longer tolerable. One diet she tried was gluten-free; research has suggested that COVID-19 may be associated with higher rates of celiac disease in children

Food sensitivities like these could also potentially be associated with mast cell activation syndrome (MCAS) and related conditions. These strong histamine reactions can include many categories of debilitating symptoms, far beyond the typical ones associated with food or seasonal allergies. Some of my students with chronic issues found themselves in the restroom for ten minutes or more every period, even though they cared deeply about learning and being in the classroom. 

It would be wrong of me to argue that everything I have cited is caused exclusively by COVID-19. At the same time, research has suggested that mental health worsens directly after SARS-CoV-2 infection, including (but not limited to) the manifestation of mood swings.

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I found myself unexpectedly emotionally regulating my classroom daily, on top of the over 1,000 decisions that come with a day of classroom management. My older students could not persist through difficult feelings, redirect attention to their work after interruption, or push through grade-level academic challenges. My students were passionate about the world around them and hyperaware of it because of the internet, but they could not build the skills to critically analyze potential misinformation or correctly interpret statistics.

What can we do to support children who already have Long COVID and keep all children in better health? We gain nothing from spiraling, though I spent many a planning period doing just that. I suggest two pathways of action and advocacy for schools:

First, speak directly with teachers and school officials about student illness and its impact.

Many teachers have numbed themselves to the problem of chronic illness in the classroom. Others do not feel safe self-advocating out of fear of accusations of politicization or risk to their employment. This was a great risk that I faced: Many parents would not speak with me directly or respect me because I masked daily in the classroom. 

Teachers and administrative school officials may be more willing to provide support when they have resources and toolkits at their disposal. Long COVID Kids has created an educational toolkit of videos about Long COVID in the school system, and the RECOVER initiative hosts a wealth of relevant pediatric research studies.

As some schools, especially public schools, have stringent attendance policies that cannot be easily overcome, administrators could reduce transmission rates by supporting teachers in accommodating students who are sick at home. This could include sending material home with appropriate audio-visual supports, having reasonable deadline flexibility, or other actions as discussed and agreed upon by students, parents, teachers, and administrators. Proper understanding and appreciation for this issue may open advocacy for other actions, such as students wearing face masks when experiencing symptoms of illness, or teachers wearing masks themselves. Many public schools also have unions, which could be rallied to support and protect COVID-cautious actions.

Many parents would not speak with me directly or respect me because I masked daily in the classroom.

Second, advocate to parents and school boards for clean air.

Clean air has been important for classroom health and wellness long before 2020. Studies have shown that higher air filtration in schools significantly reduces student absence rates and improves test scores. It can also reduce pollution exposure. One study even calculated a “cost per absence day” for sick students, a tangible number that any stakeholder could be forced to confront.

Most teachers would be quite pleased to receive an air purifier donation to their classroom, especially if replacement filters are provided. You may connect with a larger group of interested and supportive parents by attending a school board meeting. If you are worried that the word “COVID” will lead others to dismiss you, consider advocating for clean air from the angle of keeping students healthy, at school, and learning. Then, connect them with funding supporters, such as Clean Air for Schools, Purifan, and the Foundation for Clean Air, to remove or reduce the financial burden.

Additionally, consider making it personal to the extent that you are comfortable. When I have mentioned that I am immunocompromised to parents and colleagues, I have found increased support — and this sometimes has allowed me to engage with them in curious, nonjudgmental conversation about how their health has changed in the last six years.

A better world is possible, though I am sorry we have to fight for it this much. Many of my former students are passionate, thoughtful people. They want things to be better, but drown in the torrent of nihilistic news about everything, everywhere, all the time. On top of this sense of helplessness, their own health and wellness are often completely out of their hands. Parents often override children’s wishes to rest and take care of themselves, whether out of necessity or personal insistence.

In a time where teenagers have very few safe spaces left, let alone ones that promote standards of health and safety, school may be one of the only avenues for us to uphold the best living conditions possible. If we want kids to have the opportunity to learn, to grow, to be, then we must do what we can to keep them alive and well. To quote Madeline Lane-McKinley from her book Solidarity with Children, “We cannot allow ourselves or each other to surrender the future.”

If we want kids to have the opportunity to learn, to grow, to be, then we must do what we can to keep them alive and well. To quote Madeline Lane-McKinley from her book Solidarity with Children, “We cannot allow ourselves or each other to surrender the future.”


Flynn Lovelace (he/him) is an instructor and Long COVID advocate in the United States. You can follow him on Instagram and Twitter/X.

All articles by The Sick Times are available for other outlets to republish free of charge. We request that you credit us and link back to our website.

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