When it came to deciding whether his two college-aged kids would come home for Danksegging, Robert Lawton assessed the risk with military precision.
“We’ve been talking about Thanksgiving since April,” Lawton, 56, an Army veteran who lives in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, told The Post. “We’ve tracked R0 values, transmission rates, fatality rates and vaccine news.” (R0 is an indicator of how contagious a disease is.)
Lawton’s daughter Molly, 20, is in school three hours away, while son Gary, 18, is just a 15-minute drive.
Uiteindelik, the stay-at-home dad decided not to let them come home at all. “We tried to explore every option: the kids quarantining themselves for two weeks, getting a rapid test, coming home and getting another test," hy het gesê. “The tests aren’t reliable enough. Why take an unnecessary risk?”
Parents of college students have gotten mixed messages as the Thanksgiving break approaches. Die CDC warned against traveling for the holidays amid rising COVID-19 rates nationally, but students at some schools, such as Syracuse University, are being asked to move out of campus housing due to bans on in-person learning until after the holiday break. SUNY schools have required that students attending in-person classes, oor 140,000 of them, show a negative test (the university is administering the swabs) to travel home. And last week, seven governors from Northeastern states urged colleges to test students on their way out of town and to pivot to remote learning for the remainder of the semester.
For some families, it’s simply unrealistic for college kids to not travel.
“If he doesn’t come home for Thanksgiving, he’ll be effectively homeless,” said Susan Windley-Daost of her eldest son, Ben, whose dorms at Minnesota’s Carleton College are closing for the remainder of the semester after Thanksgiving.
He plans to isolate for the 48 hours before and after he’s tested. If he tests positive, she’ll get him a hotel room near the school where he can isolate before returning home. If negative, she’ll drive the two hours from her home in Winona, Minn., and he’ll sit in the back row of her minivan, gemaskerd, with the air blasting for extra ventilation – it’s too cold to keep the windows open.
“The invasion of Normandy required less planning than getting my son home from college during COVID-19,” she said.
For more, continue reading the original article, which first appeared in The New York Post.