Over the past 700 days, as the pandemic swept the globe disrupting education for millions of children, the district of just 14 schools and 7,109 children regularly provided parents and the community with photos and videos on its social media feeds 鈥斅燿etermined to capture a range of moments, from the anxiety of those first few days at school to the joy of being with friends and supportive educators.

Tupelo has an 鈥渙pen campus policy,鈥� said district marketing and communications director Gregg Ellis, with parents once freely walking through the schools, showing up to have lunch with their children or meet with teachers. 

Once COVID hit all that changed. Parents were barred from school buildings. Determined to provide parents with some access, Ellis and his team got to work.

鈥淲e didn’t want our parents to not know what’s going on at the schools. We still wanted them to get a feel for what was happening,鈥� Ellis said. 鈥淲e felt we had to amp up our game so that while they were not able to go into the schools … they could still see what their children were doing.

Sometimes that included photos that portrayed anxiety and uncertainty in children. 鈥淲e didn鈥檛 purposely capture them, but there were some tense moments,鈥� said Ellis, 鈥渂ecause of the unknown 鈥� My philosophy has just been to capture everyday life in the moment of children and teachers interacting.鈥�

Prospective families, and parents with children newly enrolled in Tupelo schools were particularly disadvantaged, unable to attend in-person tours or back-to-school nights.

鈥淪ome parents were never inside our buildings for the first two years … They had no idea what their child’s [class]room looks like, what the gyms look like 鈥� the music halls, so we wanted them to see and experience that,鈥� Ellis explained.

The city of Tupelo likes to tout itself as the birthplace of Elvis Presley. Fair enough. But the Tupelo school district has had its share of recognition: named Tupelo the best-in-class for photography and web design among school districts in 2020.

鈥淓ach high-quality image is full of life and school pride and ensures that the colors in the photos compliment that of the website,鈥� Finalsite鈥檚 Mia Major.

During the pandemic, the qualities Finalsite recognized in how Tupelo portrayed school life became a necessity. Soon the district鈥檚 social media accounts were filled with posts and photos of school life going on despite the challenges, of tentative students welcomed back by comforting teachers, and unique graduations.

鈥淲e decided early on we weren’t going to hide that we’re going to go in and capture kids still engaged, still learning, to show parents who were relying on these images more than ever,鈥� said a Tupelo district鈥檚 photographer, Ryan Coon.

New school year begins 鈥� With some changes and challenges  

At the start of the 2021-22 school year, with parents barred from entering schools, teachers met their young students outside, taking on the role of comforting first-day nerves.

Parents learn to say goodbye outside schools. 

鈥淚 just didn’t want the parents to lose complete sight of what our schools are like,鈥� Gregg said. 

Preparing to go back to class

On the first day of school, teachers from a Tupelo elementary school wore T-shirts that read 鈥淒edicated teacher even from a distance.鈥� 鈥淭hey were so positive and uplifting,鈥� said Ellis. 

Teachers were trained to take temperatures with handheld thermometers and social-distance reminders were posted around school buildings. 

鈥淚 tell people all the time: The two safest places in Tupelo were the hospital and our school district,鈥� Ellis said. 鈥淏ecause, one, we required masks. We required social distancing. We were cleaning and spraying and fogging after every class.鈥�

To avoid big groups from gathering in the cafeteria, free breakfast was served outside to each student at Milam Elementary School.

Life and learning continues through COVID

Once inside, learning commenced with the addition of a few modifications that took some getting used to.

Even behind masks, body language and eyes can say a lot about the 鈥渢ense moments 鈥� because of the unknown鈥� Ellis referred to.

In the past, Coon said he mainly aimed his camera toward students with big, bright smiles. He said beaming faces were 鈥渁n obvious statement to the community that said 鈥榟ey, we’re happy, we love it at school.鈥欌��

Soon, he realized the importance of zooming in on students鈥� eyes to capture 鈥淪mize鈥� 鈥� smiling with eyes. He also relied way more on a classic thumbs-up.

While making his rounds snapping shots of masked-up learners, Coon never heard students complain about wearing them. Other than not seeing their smiles, it was as if they 鈥渨eren鈥檛 even wearing them.鈥�

鈥淚 was in classrooms on a daily basis. I never heard kids arguing about masks or upset by them. They just did it鈥� as evident in this photo of two young boys peacefully reading, Coon said.

On picture day, the high school鈥檚 therapy dog, Wavely, showed off his protective school spiritwear.

鈥淲avely has been there to provide an extra boost and extra love for students and staff,鈥� Coon said. 鈥淪he was training to become [a therapy dog] before COVID 鈥� but has been such an added part of helping some students with the anxiety of such a different couple of years.鈥�

During the two years of the pandemic, there were times when it was just teachers in the classroom working remotely. 

Even outside the classroom, school life went on

Although COVID didn鈥檛 allow for some of years鈥� past celebrations, Coon continued to capture other aspects of school life outside of the classroom, from spelling bees to band practice, football games, pre-exam parades, homecoming of a military dad, Halloween, recess and more.

Rather than always telling students to pose for a shot, Coon preferred capturing them engaged with their surroundings.

鈥淚t’s just telling a story, and capturing the moments that are happening. I like to show parents photos of their students engaged,鈥� said Coon.

Out with a bang, and a mask

For the class of 2020, graduation was split into four different locations and families were brought in one at a time 鈥渂asically to have their moment with their child, and then had to leave for the next family and student to come in,鈥� Coon said.

鈥淎nd then we had a big firework show downtown that could drive by afterwards,鈥� he added.

Ellis recalled receiving many grateful responses from parents for how the district handled graduation for a class that missed out on many other senior year experiences. 鈥淭hey said, 鈥榟ey, this is not what we wanted, but you gave my child something special.鈥欌��

One mom joked with Ellis about how 鈥渃ool it was to get that close to the stage and get great pictures.鈥� She couldn鈥檛 do that at her older children鈥檚 graduation. 

A year later, the Class of 2021 graduated together in one space, with a new addition to the cap and gown outfit 鈥� royal blue Tupelo High School masks.

Despite a challenging year, Coon said he was determined to 鈥渟how people how much goes on in the building and all that the staff and teachers do for these kids.”

Photos by Ryan Coon / Tupelo School District

It was a Saturday night in Albion, a small city just east of Battle Creek, Michigan, and teenagers lined up for a at the school gym.

The price of admission? A bared arm.

The year was 1958, and this was no ordinary Saturday night social outing: Billed as a 鈥淪alk Hop,鈥� it was only open to young people willing to receive a jab of the polio vaccine developed by Jonas Salk, or show proof of vaccination.

The dance was part of a five-year war on polio vaccine hesitancy, a campaign that brought together the scientific know-how of public health experts with the burgeoning energy, creativity, and even sexuality of a powerful new presence in American society鈥攖eenagers.

Poliomyelitis, an infectious, virus-induced illness that could lead to paralysis, disability, and even death, didn鈥檛 become a widespread problem in the United States until the early 20th century. Before then, citizens were regularly exposed to poliovirus through unsanitary drinking water, boosting their natural immunity. Mothers also passed on immunity to their children through breast milk.

The modernization of sewage and water systems, however, meant fewer people were exposed and left children particularly to infection. And the baby boom of the late 1940s and early 1950s the perfect conditions for widespread polio transmission. Suddenly, immunity was no longer a given, and tens of thousands of cases鈥攎ostly in children鈥攂egan to appear every summer, possibly as a of seasonal fluctuations in new births.

The result was panic, especially among parents. Pools and drinking fountains were closed every summer to prevent the virus from spreading. Terrified adults watched their once-active children rely on crutches to support weakened limbs, or even face confinement in massive to facilitate breathing. Polio outbreaks picked up speed in the late 鈥�40s and early 鈥�50s, with nearly 58,000 cases in 1952.

Then came a breakthrough in the form of Salk鈥檚 polio vaccine, which was approved in 1955. Case numbers plummeted as more and more children were vaccinated. But though children lined up to take Salk鈥檚 vaccine in massive drives, teenagers were decidedly slower to line up for a shot.

‘Almost indestructible’

Part of the teen vaccine-messaging issue came down to terminology. For years, people had referred to polio as 鈥渋nfantile paralysis,鈥� stoking the impression that teens and adults weren鈥檛 at risk. Then there was the perceived inconvenience of the three-dose vaccine regimen, and some feared needles or the vaccine itself.

鈥淭eens felt healthy, almost indestructible,鈥� says , a social historian and lecturer in modern American history at the University of Bristol in England. In reality, they were anything but鈥攁nd for protection from the virus, they needed the vaccine.

But the same social forces that made adolescents feel (wrongly) more resilient than their younger counterparts ended up becoming a secret weapon against polio.

Before the turn of the 20th century, teenagers weren鈥檛 recognized as a social group of their own. Subsequent changes in American society, including the rise of the automobile and compulsory education that kept children from entering the workforce early, sparked recognition of teenagers as a distinct U.S. demographic. 鈥淭hey live in a wonderful world of their own,鈥� trilled a 1944 edition of LIFE in an devoted to adolescent girls and their fads.

In response to the vaccine lag in teens, the National Institute for Infantile Paralysis, a polio non-profit that distributed funds raised by the March of Dimes, recruited directly from that reluctant demographic. In 1954, the organization began inviting select groups of teenagers to their New York offices, interviewing them on their perceptions and reservations about the vaccines, and equipping them with talking points to promote Salk jabs back home.

Mawdsley says the teens were motivated by personal experiences with polio survivors and victims, a desire to support causes they cared about, and a search for social empowerment.

鈥淭hey were in a phase of life where they wanted adults to respect them,鈥� he says.

Peanuts for polio

The teenage war on polio took on several forms. While officials recruited teen idols like Elvis Presley and Debbie Reynolds to spread the word via public vaccination campaigns, adolescent vaccine ambassadors became celebrities in their own right as they participated in grassroots vaccination efforts that often resulted with their names and photos in print. They 鈥淟ick Polio鈥� lollipops and 鈥淪hell Out for Polio鈥� peanuts to raise money for the March of Dimes, and wrote impassioned letters urging teen vaccination for the editorial pages of local newspapers.

Even teen libidos were leveraged for the polio vaccine effort. 鈥淪ome of us girls have talked about not dating fellows for certain activities, if they haven鈥檛 had their polio shots,鈥� Patty Hicks, the national chair of Teens Against Polio, in 1958. The 鈥渧ivacious, dark-eyed 鈥榖rownette,鈥欌�� as Hicks was described by the Spokane Chronicle, encouraged other girls to do the same.

There was a dark side to the national push to vaccinate American teens: ableism. By marketing the polio vaccine essentially as a way to stay able-bodied, it stigmatized polio survivors in the process. Eventually, however, the activism of those survivors helped to the disability rights movement, which led to the 1990 .

Though it鈥檚 hard to quantify how much of an effect teen activism had on acceptance of the polio vaccine, Mawdsley says, their advocacy helped transform attitudes toward the virus. 鈥淎ll of a sudden, the vaccines weren鈥檛 just for responsible adults or young children. They were for cool teenagers.鈥� As a result, teen uptake increased in the late 1950s.

Advances in polio vaccines helped as well, and a less-expensive, single-dose vaccine replaced the three-jab Salk vaccine in the 1960s. Since 1979, no polio cases have originated in the United States, and in 2016, there were only 42 of polio worldwide. While the coronavirus pandemic, as well as conflict in places like Afghanistan and Pakistan, likely drove up polio numbers during 2020, polio vaccination is now seen as standard.

More than 60 years have passed since 鈥淪alk hops鈥� swept the nation, and now the United States is in another national vaccination push in the race to staunch cases of COVID-19. But vaccine hesitancy remains in some populations, and鈥攊n an echo of the mid-20th-century polio vaccination push鈥攖he Biden administration recently it plans to use celebrities, athletes, and social media to target teens eligible for coronavirus vaccines.

Political, social, and generational echo chambers fuel vaccine hesitancy. The teen vaccination 鈥渇ad鈥� of the 1950s and 1960s offers lessons on how to leverage that insularity on behalf of public health.

鈥淲e need to identify the groups that are hesitant and recruit from within their ranks, educate them, and send them back with messages to inform them,鈥� Mawdsley says. 鈥淥therwise we鈥檙e not going to break in.鈥�

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