Five Years Ago Today, Schools Closed

And reshaped parents' politics forever

March 16, 2025 — Five years ago, the world as I knew it shut down.

Schools closed, streets emptied, and life in New York City—my lifelong home—became a chorus of sirens and uncertainty. As we mark this milestone, I find myself reflecting on how that moment didn’t just disrupt my daily routine; it unraveled my political identity.

I grew up in Brooklyn and went to NYU. Later, I worked at NYU film school, surrounded by the kind of progressive bubble you’d expect.

My politics? Predictably Democrat.

I voted for Obama twice, practically begging my Republican parents to do the same. “If you care about me, if you care about the future, you have to vote for him,” I’d insist.

Looking back, I cringe at the pressure I put on them—today, I’d say let people vote their conscience—but that’s how devoted I was. In 2020, I wasn’t one of the ten people in my neighborhood brave enough to admit they supported Trump. I proudly cast my ballot for Biden, little “I Voted” sticker and all.

When schools shut down in March 2020, I bought into the “stay home, stay safe” mantra—at first. I sterilized groceries with alcohol wipes and wouldn’t let my husband leave our Upper West Side apartment for a month. He still teases me about it: “You locked me up like I was a national security risk!” I’d laugh and remind him he was pushing 50— age was a risk factor I took seriously.

New York was a scary place back then; all we heard were sirens. But even as I masked up and hunkered down, a nagging worry grew. I knew enough about childhood development to understand that kids need more than Zoom to grow up whole.

Social messes—pushing on the playground, learning not to hit back with a club—can’t be taught through a screen. Physical spaces, pencils on paper, real human connection: that’s where life happens.

I’d always been skeptical of tech encroaching on education, so when “Zoom school” became the norm, I started asking questions.

Sure, closing schools might’ve made sense for a few weeks to keep kids safe—but how do you rebuild trust in a school building after telling everyone it’s dangerous to be together? And what about “safety”? It became this narrow, capital-S Safety—protection from a virus, yes, but at what cost? I’d read reports from Asia saying kids were largely okay, and Europe—Denmark, Norway, Sweden—either never closed schools or reopened fast. Over there, adults took risks so kids wouldn’t have to.

Here, it felt like we were using children as shields.

I voted for Biden because he promised to prioritize school reopenings within his first 100 days. When he won, I was triumphant—my husband and I strutted around with our voting stickers like we’d saved the world.

But that joy soured fast. One of his first White House meetings was with the heads of the teachers’ unions—Becky Pringle of the NEA and Randi Weingarten of the AFT. Then Press Secretary Jen Psaki clarified: “Reopening” meant most schools open one day a week within 100 days.

One day? That wasn’t a plan; it was a betrayal. I didn’t grasp the cozy ties between the Democratic Party and the unions until that moment, and it hit me like a brick: my party didn’t care about kids.

That realization cracked something open. I’d been a progressive’s progressive—BLM hypocrisy didn’t faze me; I’d excuse it as “racial justice, outside anyway, it’s fine.”

But watching Biden renege on his promise? That was my wake-up call. Parents I’ve interviewed for my upcoming documentary echoed similar turning points.

One mentioned a BLM riot outside their window in 2020—crowds encouraged to gather while schools stayed shut. “If that’s okay, why can’t my kid go to class?” they asked. For me, it wasn’t about protests; it was about a party I’d trusted putting kids last.

This shift wasn’t just personal—it’s political dynamite. COVID helped Biden win in 2020, but it also fueled Trump’s 2024 victory. New York counties, even deep-blue ones, nudged rightward. Parents like the ones I’ve met through my work with Keep NYC Schools Open—a ragtag coalition I helped lead—were a big part of that. I organized the first (and only) lawsuit against NYC to reopen schools full-time, and the only folks listening were conservative media. I’d never touched the New York Post or Fox News before; I used to mock them.

But when CNN and the Times ignored us, I said yes to every interview. Free speech matters more than optics.

Republicans got it right during COVID—schools needed to open. I had Trump Derangement Syndrome so bad I couldn’t hear it at first. In 2016, when he won, I sank into depression, wondering how I’d explain it to my young daughters. By 2020, I was still scoffing at Ron DeSantis, even as he reopened Florida’s schools with data from scientists like Tracy Høeg and Jay Bhattacharya backing him up. Florida thrived while New York floundered, and I had to admit: maybe I’d been wrong.

Today, I’m still a registered Democrat—NYC’s mayoral primaries keep me tethered—but I feel partyless, and that’s freeing. Schools were a catalyst, but free speech is my north star. Growing up Soviet-born, I know voting is a privilege, and I’ve never missed an election. But I also know liberty dies without open dialogue. The Democrats I loved have veered illiberal, and that scares me more than any virus.

Five years after the closures, I’m not the same person. At 53, I’ve lived through enough to see my daughters grow and my politics evolve.

I’m finishing a documentary about this reckoning, amplifying parents’ and kids’ voices. This isn’t just about schools; it’s about what we owe the next generation.

Stay tuned for 15 Days the Real Story of Pandemic School Closures, coming this spring.