When COVID-19 shut down schools in 2020, it was called “unprecedented.” In reality, prolonged, unplanned school closures have occurred for years for reasons that include wildfires, hurricanes, infrastructure failures, and teacher strikes. For school leaders, responding to, or preparing for, disruptions can be extremely challenging, especially when they are already managing multiple urgent priorities.
When deadly floods swept through central Texas this summer—killing dozens of people, displacing families, and damaging infrastructure—the destruction served as yet another reminder of our climate’s increasing volatility.
These serious disruptions, once considered isolated incidents, are now becoming recurring realities. What’s not keeping pace is our support for schools in their aftermath.
In my research on how K–5 school leaders have supported teachers after unplanned closures, I found that educators were often left to carry the weight of recovery with little systemic backing. Principals worked tirelessly to reduce teacher stress, shift curriculum, and rebuild school communities. But they did so essentially without training in crisis leadership or recovery strategy. We cannot expect them to keep stitching the system together without a plan.
The truth is simple: Supporting schools after closures isn’t a temporary emergency measure but an essential investment in long-term educational resilience. According to national data, from 2011 to 2019 alone, more than 13 million students and 800,000 educators were affected by extended closures, which resulted in a staggering loss of 91.5 million instructional days.
The pandemic only worsened this loss of instructional time. Children in primary grades, particularly students of color, English learners, and those from low-income backgrounds, experienced the steepest declines in academic progress. As of last year, the average American student remained nearly half a grade level behind pre-pandemic levels in both math and reading.
The damage wasn’t just academic. Anxiety, isolation, trauma, and regression in social-emotional development followed students back into the classroom. And while we’ve returned to in-person learning, we haven’t returned to normal. We’re all still living in the wake of these closures.
This is why support after a school closure shouldn’t be seen as optional but as a core component of education leadership and policy.
School leaders need more than moral courage. They need structures. In my interviews with elementary school principals during my research, many reported feeling unprepared to navigate the aftermath of closures. Few had received any formal crisis leadership training, despite facing rising community pressure, mental health concerns, and the responsibility to accelerate learning.
To treat school closures like the ongoing national issue they are, our education systems should:
Build school closures into principal-preparation programs.
Principals often assume their roles without proper training in leading schools through disruptions. Preparation programs can equip new leaders from the start by incorporating crisis-response leadership that focuses on equity and community engagement.
Embed post-crisis instructional leadership into professional development.
Instructional recovery entails more than just catching students up; it requires rethinking learning environments, addressing trauma setbacks, and guiding teams through uncertainty. Districts should offer school leaders ongoing professional development in adaptable instructional strategies, trauma-informed practices, and collaborative tools that enable them to support students effectively.
Fund flexible staffing and mental health services.
After a closure, schools often face increased student anxiety, absenteeism, and staffing shortages. Leaders need flexible funding that allows them to hire interventionists, counselors, and coaches to address specific needs.
Encourage communication plans between districts and families, grounded in empathy and transparency.
I frequently heard from school leaders that communication during extended closures was primarily reactive and improvised, which increased confusion and anxiety among families. School and district leaders should develop intentional, planned communication strategies—such as multilingual templates, clear contacts, and established feedback channels—to build trust, promote inclusivity, and better serve stakeholders during future disruptions.
Post-crisis schooling isn’t just about closing achievement gaps. It’s about rebuilding trust, safety, and continuity. And it requires more than curriculum modifications; it requires leadership ecosystems equipped to address trauma, inequity, and long-term disruption. Additionally, as climate change intensifies, we are likely to see more frequent closures, not fewer. Hurricanes, extreme heat, wildfires, floods, and other crises will continue to interrupt instruction. We must stop treating each disruption as an isolated event and start preparing for them as part of our educational reality. Let’s stop asking our school leaders to reinvent recovery every time disaster strikes. Instead, let’s build a road map that makes recovery part of how we do school, not just how we fix it. One storm may have passed, but the work is far from over.
