At the start of the pandemic, Anya Kamenetz realized her apartment had a built-in alarm system. It went off at least once a day, usually more than that, to let everyone know that everything was not okay.
鈥淣ot being able to go to school was really hard on her,鈥 Kamenetz says of her three-year-old daughter, who would sound the alarm by lying down on the floor to kick and scream. 鈥淪he was kind of the weathervane for the whole family’s distress, because she really picked up everyone’s emotions and expressed them kind of in the most intense way possible.鈥
This distress, of course, was not limited to Kamenetz and her family. As a reporter covering education for NPR, she uncovered the many ways parents, teachers, children and caregivers were struggling. The crisis, she realized, was deep but not unprecedented. Her home city of New Orleans had undergone comparable trauma in the wake of Katrina. 鈥淭hat was the biggest example I could think of in recent time where all the schools had shut down in an American city in the 21st century,鈥 she says, adding that the impact had lingered for a decade. 鈥淚t was more than a storm. It was a social catastrophe across the board.鈥
Another noteworthy precedent: refugee camps around the world, where children鈥檚 schooling is suspended while other life-and-death needs are addressed. In April 2020, when Kamenetz published a story on Morning Edition, host Steve Inskeep was taken aback at the comparison, but she calmly predicted the high school students dropping out, the workforce shocks, the toxic stress, the multiple-year recovery journey. When kids can鈥檛 go to school, we can try to connect them through technology, but these efforts invariably fall short.
Many of her dire predictions came true. American women (resulting in a spike in liver disease), (they called it the Quarantine 19, but the consequences go beyond not being able to fit into your jeans) and . Anxiety was widespread, and women shouldered more than their fair share.
They were also in disproportionately high numbers. 鈥淭he media treated it as inevitable,鈥 she recalls. 鈥淭hey would say, 鈥榃omen were forced from the workforce,鈥 and I was like, 鈥榃ell, who forced them?鈥 Why did people pretend like this was some kind of inevitability and not just a re-instantiation of the patriarchy?鈥
It鈥檚 these overlapping emergencies, but also the inspiring and instructive solutions, that distinguish Kamenetz鈥檚 The Stolen Year.
She describes the interviews and research that went into the book as 鈥渁n opportunity to have even more empathy for parents who cared about their kids just as much as I did, but maybe didn’t have all of the resources at their disposal that I did to make sure that their kids were okay.鈥 It made her reflect on the factors that go into her family鈥檚 decisions about where to live and where her kids go to school. The Stolen Year chronicles the way the pandemic surfaced class and gender inequities, as well as the regional and ideological divides that beset our nation.
Opinions about school and child care closures, in particular, ran hot. 鈥淚t was the first time I had a bleep on the radio,鈥 Kamenetz notes, with regard to a in January 2022. Torn between Texas鈥 determination to keep schools open, the CDC鈥檚 recommendations and a boss who expected her at work, the parent was expressing rage only slightly more articulately than Kamenetz鈥檚 toddler. A San Francisco kindergarten teacher reported that the kids were doing terrible even though she was working so, so hard.
As the pandemic recedes, and social divides persist into the midterm elections and beyond, it鈥檚 understandable that we might want to let go of 2020 and 2021, but now is the time to take a hard look at what happened.
Especially because it isn鈥檛 over. Many effects of the pandemic on children continue to unfurl. Some are experiencing social deficits. For some who didn鈥檛 get the early interventions they needed, the consequences haven鈥檛 even shown up yet. 鈥淭his is a decade-long project of recovery,鈥 she says.
In The Stolen Year鈥檚 introduction, Kamenetz characterizes the book as 鈥渁 little like restorative justice or therapy.鈥 (The former term, an alternative to retributive justice, and involves elevating the role and voice of victims and community members. Its applications go beyond criminal justice.) As she said, 鈥淲e need to tell the story of what happened. We can’t look away. If you think you know what you think about this already, you should maybe look at it again.鈥
She regards the book as a chance for us all to absorb the stories of what happened and where our choices led. 鈥淲hether you think that they were absolutely justified or completely wrongheaded, they had the consequences,鈥 she asserts.
Having left NPR earlier this year, Kamenetz is shifting from one crisis to another, with the climate featuring in a number of current and planned projects, including . The initiative of the Aspen institute builds upon the , mobilizing the education sector to take on climate change and enact solutions.
鈥淭here’s a huge amount of climate despair and eco anxiety among young people,鈥 she says, 鈥淎nd talking about it is not going to be enough. You have to act, and you have to do things differently and listen to the kids that are upset, because they have good points.鈥
COVID was a lesson. It鈥檚 up to us to study it now and to do our homework, which Kamenetz describes as 鈥渢hinking about what we learned, and what we now know that we’re able to do.鈥
This story originally published on Early Learning Nation and is now archived on 社区黑料. Learn more here.

