Cedric Hall is the principal of Eagle Academy for Young Men in Queens, N.Y., one in a network of six public schools designed to support young men of color in grades 6-12. He describes what it鈥檚 been like to lead a school community through COVID-19鈥攅ven while he fell victim to it himself鈥攁nd through the emotional fallout from the police killing of George Floyd, whose nephew is a student at his school. His interviews with Education Week have been edited for length and clarity.
It鈥檚 been a complex and very emotional time for schools with a lens like ours. We can鈥檛 not deal with this, as other schools might. This is our mission, to uphold the protection and messaging around men of color. When George Floyd hit, it just devastated us. We did some evening [school community conversations] to give our young men an opportunity to talk. They had all the rage, all the feeling. It鈥檚 one thing to be upset to see it on TV, to know how much of a reality it is for every Black man. It鈥檚 another when George is part of our school community. It鈥檚 super heavy. That and the pandemic hit us with a two-piece knockout.
I got COVID the first week of April. This is about the time New York City became an epicenter. By that time, we鈥檇 gone remote. At first, I felt like I had a bad flu. Then I started having major respiratory challenges. I quarantined for 14 days and spent a lot of time in bed. I wasn鈥檛 in ICU condition. I still conducted the staff meetings, [teacher] observations [by Zoom]. I didn鈥檛 take any days off. But it was pretty rough. And it was scary. People were dying everywhere.
Before Christmas, I lost my first cousin and her mother, my aunt, right after New Year鈥檚. COVID wasn鈥檛 their cause of death, but they each had health conditions that ended up being fatal because they couldn鈥檛 get care the way they would have before COVID. My grandfather got COVID and was in the ICU for months. Thank God, he鈥檚 at a family member鈥檚 house now with medical support.
My athletics department took a hit. We lost two lead coaches, one on basketball and one on football, both varsity. One was from COVID, another was pre-existing health reasons. We had just gotten over another coach鈥檚 death before the pandemic. For my young men whose outlet was gaming, they still had that. But for the ones whose outlet was sports, they couldn鈥檛 access that, and then we lose these coaches. It was really rough. These young men still don鈥檛 have their sports.
It has taken a toll. Not just because the job got difficult. Not just because we had to figure out how to take school remote overnight. But as principal, you are the depository for all tragedy and strife. However many homes I have, however many family members in those homes, all the variables that impact school and learning. You add the staff members, the community leaders, because we are super ingrained in the fabric of southeast Queens.
I was getting calls notifying me of deaths every single day. We have families who鈥檝e been through fires, floods, evictions. I get everything: every illness, every death, every kid who struggles with a mental wellness breakdown. As a human being, it鈥檚 tough. It鈥檚 a lot to take in, to carry. I don鈥檛 just hear it; I have to respond. I have to provide support. For me, on the body, the spirit, it鈥檚 a major toll.
The job is 24/7 since March 2020, summer included. Me and my cabinet were meeting at 2 a.m. sometimes. Your diet starts to fail. You start not working out as much. You feel the anxiety and stress. I have a responsibility professionally to make sure I usher every one of my scholars safely to the other side. It鈥檚 no man left behind.
During all of this, I had to see the boys. I knew it increased my exposure, but it was necessary. I had this one mom call me. I had to drop a device off for her son, and she was having an extreme challenge with him. It was a small apartment in Queens over some takeout restaurants. I went up the stairs. She鈥檚 a single mom. She鈥檚 doing everything she can, but she鈥檚 struggling.
My heart broke as soon as I entered. I saw the condition of the home; the mom had her laptop out, trying to work. It was afternoon and she hadn鈥檛 managed to eat yet that day. I went into his room. He was sitting there, somber. The room was a mess. There was just a soullessness in the house, a somber, deep darkness.
He hadn鈥檛 been showing up to class. I sat on his bed and talked to him. I鈥檓, what鈥檚 going on? He says, 鈥楴othing.鈥� I said, don鈥檛 tell me nothing! And he just breaks down and cries. He said, 鈥業 need help, and I need Eagle. Being around all the things I鈥檓 around all the time, Eagle was my opportunity to escape, to reset, develop fortitude to move forward day to day.鈥� I cried with him. We put together a check-in plan. I told him I like to clean when I鈥檓 stressed, so we cleaned the house. The mom got some time to work.
I left, went down to my car, and sat there and cried again. Our young men need our school in regular conditions. And in these conditions, he needed it more than ever. When they鈥檙e in the building, I know just what to do: I pop in, I offer warmth and nurturing. But the pandemic tied our hands behind our backs. I鈥檝e never felt helpless as an administrator. To see the feeling of defeat in that home just ripped me. He鈥檚 doing better now. But that day. Man.
Today [Feb. 26], my senior class came together for convocation. The first time in a year in the building. We usually do it around October, as a pledge to finish school. But last year we couldn鈥檛. So finally today, we got together for an experience that felt like school again. They were all here, about 50 of them, all but four of the senior class, beaming energy and light in the building. Normally we have hundreds at this ceremony, with family members. Today that wasn鈥檛 possible. But we had our seniors, and our 17 middle school scholars [who鈥檇 opted to return for in-person learning], and staff and administrators, socially distanced, in the gym, with 85-inch monitors, and we live-streamed it. It was maybe 100 people altogether, but it felt like thousands because of the energy.
We did a video version of the 鈥渢he passing of the wings鈥� ceremony, where a representative of the senior class passes a statue of an eagle, with its wings spread, to one of their junior brothers, as a symbol of getting them to take the pledge of graduating. Here at Eagle, scholars wear shirts and ties, but senior year, we give them blazers and pins. So today we gave those to them so they could finish out their senior year strong. I鈥檓 talking tears! And I鈥檓 not saying a few hugs didn鈥檛 slip in there. At one point, they started chanting, 鈥淏rotherhood!鈥� We didn鈥檛 ask them to. They just did it. Those boys are an inspiration to me. We are all starting to feel that burnout, stuck on a plateau, and it was just what our school community needed.
