Kin Detection

Certain trees work together — they share one common root system. 

If you’ve ever been to Colorado in the fall, you’ve seen aspens with leaves of dazzling gold, all connected by one root. In a recent Instagram story, Nashville musician Ellie Holcomb compared the root system of aspen trees to humanity itself, reminding us we’re all connected.

Trees that live in forests, in community, tend to live longer than those in urban areas that live in isolation from each other. Scientists have learned that trees living together in wooded areas share resources through their roots. Even trees that are different species — birches and firs, for example — altruistically share sustenance through their roots in an effort to keep the other alive. Botanists and arborists call this “kin recognition” - the preferential sharing of resources with those who seem like family. 

They also use another term: “kin detection.” And it’s becoming clear in the rural communities of southern Appalachia that our people are now trying to detect and nurture the people who are like family to them - laying aside surface rivalries, adapting and working together. As folks around the world are reckoning with the idea that our entire species is part of one extended family, I’d like to share how we see this happening in the school communities around where I live.

On March 17, a Tuesday, I awoke to a social media post about a teacher who spent the first evening of school cancellations writing letters — real, paper letters — to her first grade students. The teacher, Carissa Dancer Owenby, is a former student of mine, now teaching at Union County Primary School in northeastern Georgia. I asked her about her post and how she is attempting to bring comfort to her students. She incorporated part of her social post into her reply:

“It was such a sad day for me to leave my classroom. I want my students to know how much I already miss them, so I spent last night writing them all letters. I want them to see my handwriting and not just a font on the computer screen. I want them to see how much I care. In my letters, I left my address in hopes they will write me back. Technology is great, but there is just something about getting a letter in the mail that is exciting, especially when you’re 6 or 7. All parents ever want when you have their child in your class is to know you care about them and you are going to keep them safe. I hope writing them those letters proves that I still do. They are my kids. I hope I see them again soon. Until then, I’m doing all I can digitally for my students.” 

She also talked about how teachers themselves are struggling to adapt to the whole new world we’ve entered thanks to COVID-19.

“Take it easy on us teachers. Our whole way of teaching just got turned upside down. We are learning with you. We are doing all we can. We are trying our best. We want to see our students succeed. So I’m asking for grace. Show us grace in this learning curve. It’s a learning curve for us all. ”

In the week or so since, I talked to superintendents, principals, teachers, and students in four western North Carolina counties: Clay, Cherokee, Graham, and Swain. All demographically similar, all part of the same 1-A athletic Smoky Mountain Conference, making them athletic and academic rivals. I asked them how they’re coping, what they’ve gained and lost since the closing of schools and cancelling of athletic seasons.

These are their voices, their experiences, their stories.

~~~

The school superintendents here have systems of regular communication designed to meet the needs of their families hard hit by poverty and addiction. That system proved invaluable after March 13, when North Carolina Governor Roy Cooper mandated that schools close statewide for at least two weeks. The closing has since been extended until at least May 15.

The education leaders of these four counties — the westernmost in our state — worked together to build an effective plan to address the immediate needs of children in their communities. They decided all counties would run buses to deliver food to all children: from infants to age 18. Each county decides the best way to expedite food delivery. Some chose to have bus drivers run their regular routes two times a day — in the morning for breakfast and mid-afternoon to deliver lunch — while others set up community drop-off areas. Teachers, teacher assistants, and volunteers rode buses to deliver not only meals, but also school lessons, supplies, and materials. If any family was somehow missed, school resource officers, teachers, guidance counselors and principals delivered meals and supplies. Collectively, these four counties, thanks to the tireless efforts of cafeteria staff and bus drivers, are delivering close to 4,500 meals every day to our children. 

Next, school leaders faced the daunting task of moving all instruction to online platforms immediately. This presented two immediate questions: First, while every student in these counties was given a Chromebook or other laptop to use for as long as they need, how do you ensure every kid in these isolated communities has the necessary internet access? And what do you do for those who don’t? Second, how do you support teachers with the training to convert quality instruction to a digital platform, especially considering that teachers, much like their students, have varied skill sets and comfort levels when it comes to utilizing technology?

After the first day, Angela Tyner, a seventh grade math teacher at Robbinsville Middle School, sent her principal the following text message:  “I did my first Google meet with five students. They picked it up fast. We were all able to present screens and work through problems. They also showed off dogs and the little kids in their family, lol. I was on there an hour, but I finally had to tell them I was going to eat supper and would talk to them tomorrow. They were going to continue to meet.” 

Tyner’s success happened only because these four school systems polled all their students within 24 hours, using email, phone calls, and/or home visits to establish families’ technology needs and internet access. Schools and communities went to work setting up free internet hot spots, distributing devices, and offering paper packets of lessons and materials for families not comfortable with digital learning. 

Karen Nicholson, Hayesville High School guidance counselor, shared just how much students and teachers are relying on each other: “My husband asked me if I knew how to use Google Classroom. He stated he had no clue about it, to which Mary, our high school freshman daughter replied,‘It's okay, Daddy. I can help you. I know all about Google Classroom. I can show you.’"

To all these efforts, the people of our small communities have responded positively. But simultaneously, they struggle with what has been lost to both students and teachers: daily human connection. 

Isabella Rogers, a senior at Hayesville High School, where I taught before I retired, said, “I struggle with depression, and not being able to have a normal routine and see my friends every day has caused my anxiety levels to rise drastically. This is something I know that multiple people are struggling with; it’s not just me.” 

Such struggles will continue for many, but we have gained a renewed sense of appreciation for the generosity, kindness, compassion, altruism, cooperation that are historic hallmarks of Appalachian communities.

~~~ 

Teachers and support staff in these counties contacted every family of every student within 24 hours. Latresa Phillips, a Robbinsville Middle School teacher, wrote to me about one of those phone calls: 

“You make the phone call to a parent: ‘We are polling families to see if your family is in need of food for your school-age children. Is food a need for your family at this time?’ You’ve made the same call multiple times, and many recipients will thank you for calling and assure you they are able to provide for their family at this time. Then you make the call, and you hear a break in a trembling voice as a mom opens up and tells you, ‘We are really struggling right now. We work in tourism, and so many people are canceling. It’s hard.’ Your heart breaks, your eyes water, you fight hard to keep that same tremble from your own voice as you continue the conversation,” Phillips wrote. “‘If food was made available at the school would you have transportation to pick up food?’ The mother explains that if she has the opportunity to work, she won’t be able to come to the school to pick up the food. Your conversation ends with a promise that you will make sure her family receives food. After getting a physical address, you place the family’s name on your growing list and complete your calls. This task is completed. You are now asked to help unload groceries that the middle school staff has purchased from the grocery store and begin filling paper bags full of bread, peanut butter, soup, and other nonperishable items to be delivered to your children: your children. They belong to you. You teach them. You nurture them. You guide them, and now, you miss them. You worry about them being left at home in situations they could escape during a school day. You come to empty classrooms and face a silence that just a week ago you threatened your children to adhere to. You walk the halls void of children’s laughter and congregations at lockers. These are your children. You are more than an educator. You are a mentor, a nurse, a listening ear, a caregiver, a disciplinarian, and a safe place for many children to land. You are a voice of reason in a community seeking answers, help, guidance.

“In March 2020, a teacher is so much more,” she continued. “At the end of the day, you head to your car, groceries in one hand, physical addresses of your children in the other and drive into neighborhoods that house your children. You knock on doors, you offer encouragement, and deliver groceries, and you come face to face with your student. The student whose mom has expressed a need. They answer the door with a small crack barely big enough to see their eyes, and they quickly tell you, ‘I don’t want no homework.’ You chuckle to yourself and quickly explain, ‘I’m not here with homework...yet. I’m here with groceries. Now get out here and help me get this stuff inside for your mom.’ Another day in the life of an educator, an individual who helps students acquire knowledge, competence, and virtue, and silently breathes life into their children every day whether they are teaching a classroom full of children or meeting their basic needs in a coronavirus pandemic.” 

Senior athletes have lost entire seasons. Coming off a 30-0 perfect season, the Murphy High School varsity girls’ basketball team was slated to play in the state 1-A championship: It was canceled. Sydni Addison, a senior on this team, told me, “This has been something we have worked so hard for over the past four years. I spent countless mornings at 6 a.m. shooting, constantly working out, running, and so many other things. My life goal at this time was to win a state championship. It may sound dumb to some people, but they do not know how it feels to be so close, and then come up short. This year was the year we had not come up short, and we were definitely going to win that game. Missing out on this experience is something that hurts me so bad, because I know there is not another chance of it happening. It hurts not just due to the fact we are missing out on all the credit we deserve, but it hurts that I did not get to play one more game with my team, on the biggest stage possible.” 

Jeff Vardo, a history teacher and baseball coach at Hayesville High School talked about why athletics are such an integral part of rural school systems and communities:

“When you find yourself in a huddle with your teammates, no one cares where you live or what type of truck you drive, they just want to know if you can get the job done. Race, religion, wealth doesn't matter as much as working together as a team to solve the problem or to help a neighbor out.”

Briggs Cornwell, a sophomore baseball player at Murphy High School, said, “It is still hard to grasp the fact that baseball has been canceled. It does not feel as if the season has been canceled; it feels as if our season and something many of us have worked so very hard in preparation for has been stripped away from us, almost as if we were being punished. I have played baseball for as long as I can remember, and it has become a large part of my life...and has become the place I go when I'm in need the most. When I play baseball, everything that I’m going through at home or in school disappears. All stress is gone, and for the two hours that I’m playing every day, I don't have to worry about anything other than enjoying myself. I worry about other kids all around the country going through the same things as me right now, struggling to find a new outlet, a place to go when their mind is overcome with things they may be facing in their lives.”

Lee Hyatt is the behavioral specialist for all of Swain County Schools. She feels the void of athletics in her own family: “I have a senior and a sophomore that are very involved in sports. They should be in the middle of baseball and track seasons. This is the first time they have ever played on the same team, and we were so excited that Connor was going to be able to end his high school career with his brother by his side. It all ended abruptly last week. They miss the sports, being with their teammates, and the excitement of game day. On a positive note, it has given my boys time to get out and enjoy nature. They have been fishing, walking trails, and exploring in the woods.”

Many students now face the probability they will not be able to complete coursework that requires logging hours of hands-on learning. Amy Trout and Andrea Adams are the health occupations teachers for Hayesville and Robbinsville high schools. Their students rely on hands-on learning to complete the hours necessary to become Certified Nursing Assistants before graduation. By March 13, students knew it was unlikely that they could finish their required hours. Trout told me how she is adjusting instruction.

“I am trying to figure out how to teach online what my students need to know,” she said. “Google Classroom is now my connection with them. The most important thing I have to navigate is how to maintain the relationships I’ve built with my students since the beginning of the semester. I have to figure that piece out, otherwise, the work, the assignments, become less important to those kids.” 

Adams is having the same hard conversations with her students.

“After being told of the circumstances on Friday, one student sat most of class with her head in her hands,” Adams said. “We basically just took a step back and stopped instruction so that these girls could process the news. I tried to encourage those students that our school will do their best to help them find other options to complete their training. Two local nursing homes have offered to hire the students as personal care aides and then pay for them to take their nurse aide at the local community college as an alternative. So, watching my students with broken hearts has been the biggest challenge by far for me.”

Clayson Lane, a senior at Robbinsville High School, shared how his family felt the impact of social isolation earlier than others in his community. 

“My family was the first to be quarantined in our town,” Lane wrote. “My dad had possibly been exposed from his job with FedEx, so while we waited for his test results to come back, my whole family were all stuck at home. The first day we were quarantined I missed my first — and what I did not know would be my only — track meet of my senior year. Word got out pretty quick that my dad had been tested. My phone was bombarded with messages,‘Does your dad have the Coronavirus?’ ‘When are you coming back to school?’ ‘Do you feel sick?’ Rumors spread everywhere — there were even kids from other schools in our conference asking my friends if I had the coronavirus. 

“Overall, the community was really supportive of my family,” he continued. “My grandparents would leave meals in the car parked in the driveway. Neighbors offered to deliver supplies such as toilet paper and groceries to our porch. Another neighbor who is also one of my teachers would stop by while I was outside to check on us, from the road of course, and just so I could have some social interaction with someone that wasn’t stuck at the house with me. I had nothing else to do, so I found some scrap wood in my boredom and decided to build a desk. 

“I never felt sick, so I was pretty aggravated having to be at the house all the time,” Lane wrote. “Sometimes I was able to get out and drive to the dump to take off the trash. When I was able to do that I’d usually let one of my friends know and they would park on the side of a backroad on the way and we would talk for a while from our cars.

The final night of his family’s quarantine was different.

“I was outside in my yard sitting by a fire, minding my own business. Someone drove by and screamed, ‘Get your coronavirus @$$ in the house — we don’t want none of that $h!T!’ Of course it made me mad — I wasn’t even sick and was being treated like some sort of outsider sitting in my own yard,” Lane wrote. “Thankfully, the next morning my dad received word that his test had come back negative; he did not have the coronavirus. Things had gone back to normal — but only for a few short hours. That afternoon, we were informed that school would be closed due to the pandemic. It’s spring of my senior year; we don’t know if we get to go back to school, my last-ever field day is a long shot, senior prom is doubtful, and a graduation ceremony is also questionable. In addition to those events, we were supposed to have a … ceremony to receive our state (championship) rings from our 2019 football season — that also is most likely not going to happen, along with our varsity athletic banquet that we have every May. As a senior, it is really frustrating. My best friend has missed out on his senior baseball season. Most of the girls in my class have already purchased prom dresses. They have no clue if they’ll actually get to wear them. My graduation cap and gown sit in a box at the school with the possibility of not being worn at all. 

“All the things you work hard for all through school and look forward to all year are most likely not going to be able to happen. Senioritis that had once set in is now gone, and all most of us want to do is go back to school, and it has only been four days. You never really realize how much you enjoy everyday life until it is not your everyday life anymore.”

Bailey Johnson, a Hayesville senior, echoed Clayson: “Senior prom, soccer senior night, senior skip day, and graduation, all the things that seemed like a promise are now more like a question hanging above our heads. I’ve come to terms with social distancing because I know we all have to put the good of others above our own interests.”

Tonia Walsh, the principal of Robbinsville Middle, talked about what she learned in only a week:

“As a principal, I see circumstances that are not perfect for children at home and children coming to school with unmet needs, emotional needs, health needs, and mental health issues; but this last week my entire staff and I have a greater realization that education is not the most important thing,” she said. “We have all become more aware of the needs of students and families. I have come to the profound realization that the school means so much more than just education to rural families. 

“One day this week, myself and three other teachers decided to ride around and see where some of our students lived,” she continued. “We knew that if this goes longer than expected, we could make sure their needs are met. I think, as educators, we all have kids that we worry about for various reasons. I know I have a long list. I expect teachers to make actual contact with their students at least once a week while they are at home, using Zoom or Google Hangout, so they can actually see their faces, lay eyes on them. This is important to me. Several of my teachers said, ‘Mrs. Walsh, I have already talked to my students this week several times.’ It was Tuesday. The heart of teachers is golden!”

Tonya Raper, a math teacher at Murphy High School, is proud of our communities’ response: “Schools are dealing with this in a very human way. Children are being fed, teachers miss their students, principals are riding buses to deliver meals. At first, I thought maybe the governor was being too cautious closing schools so abruptly, but I now realize it was completely necessary. I am proud of our counties for the kindness they are showing by continuing to feed children, complete welfare checks, and advocate for equity on behalf of all our students. Check on your teacher friends; this is not a vacation for them. This is one of the hardest things they’ve ever been asked to do.“ 

An anonymous parent called WKRK, Cherokee County’s local radio station, with these words of gratitude, “I am a foster parent of three babies, ages 1-3 with severe food insecurities from neglect and domestic violence. This morning I thought it would be nice to take them down to see the school bus and school teachers delivering food, as the oldest will be starting pre-K in the fall. Mind you, we don’t need food ... I just thought the kiddos would like it. Up drives the school bus with teachers waving out at our kids. They gave us some bags with applesauce, orange juice, milk, sandwiches, muffins, and snacks. When we got into the house, I pulled it all out and showed them what they had brought. The 3-year-old almost started crying and said, ‘They brought all of this just for us?  It’s the real magic school bus!’ These teachers and bus drivers accomplished in two seconds what we’ve been working on for a long time — felt safety. So teachers, faculty, and staff of Cherokee County Schools, I just want to say thank you for showing kindness to these kids. It truly does take a village.” 

I’d like to believe that when this is all over, people all across America will be like aspen trees that can flourish from a single, connected root. Perhaps I’m being too optimistic. Maybe, at the very least, we will learn the lesson of the birches and firs, who work together to survive, despite their fundamental differences.