Hurricane Melissa swept across the island of Jamaica on October 28, 2025, leaving behind rubble and open-roofed buildings that were once filled with joy and laughter. Infrastructure has been devastated, and many children are now experiencing what I can only describe as premium sky-view classrooms — exposed to the elements, uncertain, and unstable.

This makes one wonder: When will things return to what they were before this hurricane wreaked havoc on the western portions of the island? Our current reality — our new norm — looks like this.

Schools in the western region are now being forced to accommodate students from other institutions that are already at full capacity due to the loss of classrooms. Students are flocking to schools with sturdy walls and partial infrastructure just to continue learning. But what about the teachers? If there is no physical classroom available, where does the teacher teach? If one teacher has taken on the additional burden of absorbing students from multiple schools, who is supporting that teacher?

And unfortunately, this is not the only “new norm” we face.

Several schools have now implemented shift systems. Students attend on alternating days and remain home for online, asynchronous learning on the others. In theory, this sounds manageable. In practice, it is another struggle.

With light poles still down in several parishes, many students do not have reliable access to internet services in their communities. One such community is Whitehouse, Westmoreland. Even for students who do have Wi-Fi or mobile data, connectivity is often limited to weak 3G service.

If a teacher uploads assignments to
Google Classroom or schedules a
Zoom session, the harsh reality is that many students simply cannot access the lesson. I speak not only as an observer but as a teacher. I struggle to conduct online classes when only 17 per cent of a class of 30 students can successfully log in. That is not even half. So what do we do? Do we continue teaching new content face-to-face and try to catch up later? Or do we simply post assignments online and hope students somehow gain access?

And that is the painful truth — we can only hope. We hope students complete their work at home. We hope they find a signal. We hope accommodations reach them. Some schools attempt alternative delivery methods, such as printed packages, but printing resources are limited and not always consistently available.

This raises another serious concern: What will happen to students’ grades? Many students have already fallen behind the curriculum after being out of school for over a month following the hurricane. Schools in the west are significantly delayed, yet students are still expected to sit the same external examinations as their peers across the island. Examination classes, in particular, face alarming disadvantages. Even more troubling, some students have stopped attending school altogether.

Let us also consider the infrastructure itself. Many roofs that were damaged or removed by Hurricane Melissa have now been covered with tarpaulins because that is all some schools can afford. Classrooms that were once exposed to heavy rainfall have developed mould and mildew. The lingering dampness has left rooms with a foul odour, and both teachers and students have reported respiratory issues. One teacher shared, “Mi nose block up every time mi go to that classroom. Mi can’t breathe, and the students are coughing, too, because there is a lot of mould.”

A student added, “Miss, every time rain fall, water seep through the sides of the class and wet we up. We have to pray that we see sunshine every day.”

This is our new norm. The new norm of the west.

Students are struggling. Teachers are struggling. Infrastructure is fragile. Access to learning is inconsistent. The question now is: What will become of our already-challenged education system if these conditions persist?

As a teacher, I have had to host extra classes — both physically and online — in an attempt to help students recover lost time. I have also been forced to omit certain sections of the curriculum in order to prioritise what I consider the most critical content. But what kind of sacrifice is that when every part of the curriculum is important?

Each topic was designed with intention. Each objective builds on another. So when we remove sections to “make up time” we are not just trimming content — we are potentially creating learning gaps that may follow students into the next grade level.

Other adjustments now include using specific days during the holidays to conduct quick summaries or revision sessions in an effort to cover what was missed. But should holidays become recovery periods? Should rest days turn into catch-up days?

The resilience of western Jamaica is undeniable. But resilience should not replace responsibility. If this is our new norm, then urgent action must follow — because our children deserve more than survival. They deserve stability, safety, and a fair chance to succeed.

Chajena Wallace is an educator. Send comments to the Jamaica Observer or chajenawallace103@gmail.com.