He sat beside me, resting his head back on the cushion behind him.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.
He rubbed a hand down his face. “I don’t even know where to start.”
That didn’t sound good. I leaned against his side, and his arm draped across my shoulder.
“Most of the time I was shoveling. We started at Frank’s. He should be to the hospital. Doug thinks he probably broke his hip. Jacob’s herd is sick after the power shut off all the electric feeders, but he is hoping they will recover.” He sighed and shook his head.
I squeezed Adam’s hand.
“That’s not the worst of it though.” His lips frowned. He paused and took a deep breath. It was as if he were worried about my reaction.
I waited.
“Sounds like the school didn’t fare well.” Adam looked at the ground.
The school? “What do you mean?”
“The newer section of the high school is okay, and the gym, but the portables, most of the elementary, the office, and cafeteria…” He closed his eyes. “Faith, it’s unusable. Part of the roof caved in, and there is water damage everywhere from broken pipes.”
I leaned back. Wait. “What?” I shook my head. “What do you mean?”
He turned toward me, his brown eyes sad. “There is a meeting tomorrow, but there is talk of closing the school.”
I gasped and leaned back. “What does that even mean? What happens to the kids and teachers if they do?” A cold shiver crept up my spine and didn’t leave.
Adam rubbed his forehead. “It’s all speculation at this point.” He looked at the ground. “But there isn’t enough room for everyone in the parts that are left… And there isn’t the money to rebuild.”
“Could we raise it and they rebuild in the spring?” Even as I asked, I knew the unlikeliness of it.
Adam frowned. “Maybe…but the district doesn’t have that kind of resources. To pass a grant and get federal resources can take years.”
“What about fundraising or something?”
“We could do some for sure. But most people here live paycheck to paycheck. No one has that kind of money.” Adam gestured me back into his side. I scooted closer and lay on his chest. “Several of the nearby towns are likely facing similar problems.”
“So what, the kids just won’t get an education?” My forehead wrinkled as I blinked back tears. That was cruel and would have devastating long-term effects.
“Nah. Sounds like the district is thinking of bussing kids to other towns. Sharing the space that’s available. There isn’t enough room to send them all to one, so they will most likely split the kids up.”
I shook my head. “The nearest town is thirty minutes away. Those kids will be on the bus all day long.”
“Yep.” He sighed and nodded. “The other option is to go to an online school individually.”
Online. No connection with their peers. Those poor kids.
The school also employed much of the town.
What about their jobs?
What about mine? What about Adam’s? I spun my anxiety ring. There was too much pain everywhere I thought.
“What about the school’s extracurricular activities?”
Adam sighed. “There are so many other people who are facing much worse consequences, I know that.” He shook his head. “But I just can’t stop thinking about how hard those boys have beenworking. They really had a chance to take state this year.” He sighed and his shoulders fell forward. “I mean, will Jacob still get his scholarship?”
My heart was breaking in more ways than I knew were possible. It broke for the families that would lose income; it broke for the kids whose lives were going to be turned upside down and separated. What would Adam do for work? His life was here. My heart broke for Adam and the team that worked so hard to suddenly have everything taken away.
