Students return to Pali South in Santa Monica on April 22.
Credit: Mallika Seshadri / EdSource
It was like the first day of school on Colorado Avenue in Santa Monica.
Campus security directed parents as they mapped out drop-off routes. Staff greeted students, who lugged backpacks, musical instruments and sports gear. High schoolers embraced and marveled at their new campus.
But unlike most first days of school, even seniors on the verge of graduating wandered around, asking where to go. Teachers wondered where to lock their bikes.
“[I’m] definitely nervous,” said Aurora Robles, a freshman. “I don’t think I would know where any of my classes are or where any of my friends are.”
It’s April 22 — more than three months since the Palisades Fire ravaged over 23,000 acres in Los Angeles and destroyed roughly 30% of the historic Palisades Charter High School, which is known for its appearances in films such as “Carrie” and “Freaky Friday.”
Unlike other schools in both Los Angeles Unified and Pasadena Unified that returned to in-person learning weeks after the fires, Pali High’s roughly 2,500 students had been learning online.
And as of Tuesday, its students, teachers, administrators and staff can call an old Sears building — now called Pali South — their new, temporary home. It took roughly eight weeks to transform the industrial building into a learning space complete with the school’s lettering, Lauren Howland, a spokesperson for the City of Santa Monica, told KTLA.
“I’m happy to welcome the administrators, educators and students of Palisades Charter High School back to in-person learning,” said Governor Gavin Newsom in a statement released Tuesday.
“While this home is only temporary until we can get them back to their regular site, the partnership and collaboration between state and local officials to get this new site up and running shows the spirit of our recovery. This is an important step forward for the Palisades community as we rebuild and rise together.”
The Los Angeles Unified School District is chipping in with about $300 million to help Pali High rebuild over the next few years. And debris from the original campus has already been cleared by the Army Corps — with the hope that the campus community can return to its true home with portable classrooms at some point in the next year, according to LAUSD School Board Member Nick Melvoin, who spoke at a town hall for the Pali High community earlier this month.
“I definitely didn’t expect it would happen,” said senior Lucas Nehoray. “I told a lot of people that I just didn’t think it would have time to come to fruition at a different site. But here it is… I’m really happy.”
Despite being used to online learning during the Covid-19 pandemic, several students expressed their excitement at being back. Some of them, including senior Samantha Murillo, hadn’t seen their peers since December, before winter break.
“I get to see my friends after five, six months,” Murillo said. “But I’m also kind of thrown off a little bit because it’s a whole different location…It’s weird, but in a good way.”
Others said they were looking forward to learning more in person — especially with AP exams around the corner in May.
The “last few months have been easier academically,” Nehoray said. “I’m glad I’m in person and I can actually learn.”
An evening stroll down Cours Mirabeau in Aix-en-Provence in December.
Courtesy: Layla Bakhshandeh
I had never thought about studying abroad until two of my best friends went abroad and told me about their experiences in Spain. The paella. The nightlife. The making of new friends who end up feeling like family. The next day, I signed up to study in France.
The golden ticket landed in my lap midway through the winter quarter of my junior year at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo: I had been accepted into a language and culture program in the south of France for the fall 2023 semester.
Along with my acceptance came a long list of forms and seminars that all the more than 1,000 Cal Poly SLO “Global Mustangs” had to complete. After all these training sessions, I felt equipped to deal with the culture shock I would feel there, and I was as prepared as one can be when I arrived.
What I was not prepared for was the unexpected culture shock that I faced when I returned to the United States. This “reverse culture shock” brought feelings of depression and confusion. I wondered how it was possible to feel so unsettled when returning to California, the place I spent my entire life, especially when my arrival in France didn’t result in any significant feelings of displacement.
Very quickly, the south of France felt like home. Daily routines formed as my French language skills progressed. International friends nestled their way into my heart, and French cheeses riddled my creaky apartment’s mini fridge.
Living in a new culture forced me to reflect on my own identity and experiences. I did miss my family and friends back in California, but that longing for loved ones was overshadowed by the glow of my new life in Aix-en-Provence.
I realized later on that it wasn’t my life that was glowing, it was me.
This inner glow was a result of massive self-growth and self-discovery that opened up for me when I moved across the world alone. In France, I was learning more about who I was and the person I wanted to be. Constant cross-cultural experiences and openness to new ideas brought me a sense of extreme fulfillment.
At times, I felt like I was trying on a new life; but just when it felt right, it began to unravel. My studies abroad were over, and I had to return to California.
The real difficulties unveiled themselves when I returned home and started my winter quarter in San Luis Obispo, and I realized I was experiencing “reverse culture shock,” which the U.S. State Department defines as the psychological, emotional and cultural aspects of reentry. (I first heard the term through a Cal Poly study-abroad training session.)
And that’s how I felt. Confusion, discomfort and depressive feelings fogged my everyday actions. I missed the constant stimulation of my time in France. After growing immensely on a personal level, while I was abroad, I felt unsure of who I was in a town that had not changed at all since I left. My major classes suddenly felt insignificant, and I couldn’t tell if my friends really knew me anymore.
It felt like I was viewing my old life through a new lens, unsure of how to move in my new environment. In rushed feelings of isolation and identity confusion. This, coupled with my heavy course load, made it difficult to even think about my time away.
But burying your memories and experiences only makes it harder to adjust to life back in your home country. I realized I had to force myself to integrate my experiences in France with my life back in California.
Here are some ways I worked through my reverse culture shock:
Journaling: Writing about my time away helped me remember all the core memories and experiences that helped me grow. Putting pen to paper helped me to process all the events I had experienced.
Sharing stories with friends: Telling anecdotes from your travels brings old memories to light. Sharing these stories with friends and loved ones made me feel more understood.
Joining a reentry group or finding friends who are also returning from studying abroad: Connecting with others in the same situation as I made me more comfortable opening up and reflecting on my time abroad. It was also a great way to hear about other people’s experiences with the phenomenon of reverse culture shock.
Taking time to reflect on experiences abroad gives students the opportunity to piece together their time away. It can help students identify the qualities and growth that they experienced abroad, and incorporate these aspects throughout their journey in their home country.
It is easy to fall back into old habits when surrounded by old environments, but reminding myself of the lessons I learned helped bring the glow back.
•••
Layla Bakhshandeh is a senior journalism and graphic communication student at Cal Poly, San Luis Obispo and a member of EdSource’s California Student Journalism Corps.
The opinions expressed in this commentary represent those of the author. EdSource welcomes commentaries representing diverse points of view. If you would like to submit a commentary, please review our guidelines and contact us.
Thomas L. Friedman is the foreign affairs opinion writer for The New York Times. In this post, he excoriates Trump for his arrogance and stupidity in handling the tariffs issue, and especially for his arrogance and stupidity in dealing with China. First, he insisted that he would “hang tough” on his plan to impose draconian tariffs. When the stock and bond markets crashed, he decided to put a 90-day pause on tariffs, exempting China.
He has alienated our allies and outraged China. His arrogance has isolated us in the world as a faithless bully. It seems that Trump’s “art of the deal” consists of bullying, threatening, insulting, and humiliating the other party. It doesn’t work in the international stage. Trump dissipated long-standing alliances and has made us look foolish in the eyes of the world. In less than three months, he has squandered good will, scorned close relationships, and thrown away our reputation as “leader of the free world.” The emperor has no clothes. He stands naked before the world as a stupid and reckless man.
It’s important to remember that Trump was never a successful businessman. He went bankrupt six times. No American bank would extend loans to him because of his abysmal record. Yet his MAGA cult believes in his business acumen because he played a successful businessman on TV. He is a performer who knows nothing about foreign trade, economics, or history.
How will we survive four years of Trump’s demented whims?
Friedman wrote:
I have many reactions to President Trump’s largely caving on his harebrained plan to tariff the world, but overall, one reaction just keeps coming back to me: If you hire clowns, you should expect a circus. And my fellow Americans, we have hired a group of clowns.
Think of what Trump; his chief knucklehead, Howard Lutnick (the commerce secretary); his assistant chief knucklehead, Scott Bessent (the Treasury secretary); and his deputy assistant chief knucklehead, Peter Navarro (the top trade adviser), have told us repeatedly for the past weeks: Trump won’t back off on these tariffs because — take your choice — he needs them to keep fentanyl from killing our kids, he needs them to raise revenue to pay for future tax cuts, and he needs them to pressure the world to buy more stuff from us. And he couldn’t care less what his rich pals on Wall Street say about their stock market losses.
After creating havoc in the markets standing on these steadfast “principles” — undoubtedly prompting many Americans to sell low out of fear — Trump reversed much of it on Wednesday, announcing a 90-day pause on certain tariffs to most countries, excluding China.
Message to the world — and to the Chinese: “I couldn’t take the heat.” If it were a book it would be called “The Art of the Squeal.”
But don’t think for a second that all that’s been lost is money. A whole pile of invaluable trust just went up in smoke as well. In the last few weeks, we have told our closest friends in the world — countries that stood shoulder to shoulder with us after Sept. 11, in Iraq and in Afghanistan — that none of them were any different from China or Russia. They were all going to get tariffed under the same formula — no friends-and-family discounts allowed.
Do you think these former close U.S. allies are ever going to trust getting into a trench with this administration again?
This was the trade equivalent of the Biden administration’s botched exit from Afghanistan, from which it never quite recovered. But at least Joe Biden got us out of a costly no-win war for which America, in my opinion, is now much better off.
Trump just put us into a no-win war.
How so? We do have a trade imbalance with China that does need to be addressed. Trump is right about that. China now controls one-third of global manufacturing and has the industrial engines to pretty much make everything for everyone one day if it is allowed to. That is not good for us, for Europe or for many developing countries. It is not even good for China, given the fact that by putting so many resources into export industries it is ignoring the meager social safety net it offers its people and its even more threadbare public health care system.
But when you have a country as big as China — 1.4 billion people — with the talent, infrastructure and savings it has, the only way to negotiate is with leverage on our side of the table. And the best way to get leverage would have been for Trump to enlist our allies in the European Union, Japan, South Korea, Singapore, Brazil, Vietnam, Canada, Mexico, India, Australia and Indonesia into a united front. Make it a negotiation of the whole world versus China.
Then you say to Beijing: All of us will gradually raise our tariffs on your exports over the next two years to pressure you to shift from your export economy to a more domestic-oriented one. But we will also invite you to build factories and supply chains in our countries — 50-50 joint ventures — to transfer your expertise back to us the way you compelled us to do for you. We don’t want a bifurcated world. It will be less prosperous for all and less stable.
But instead of making it the whole industrial world against China, Trump made it America against the whole industrial world and China.
Now, Beijing knows that Trump not only blinked, but he so alienated our allies, so demonstrated that his word cannot be trusted for a second, that many of them may never align with us against China in the same way. They may, instead, see China as a better, more stable long-term partner than us.
What a pathetic, shameful performance. Happy Liberation Day.
Wildfire smoke fills the air over the 110 freeway in Los Angeles.
Credit: AP Photo / Etienne Laurent
Before the Eaton fire this January, Alexander Ballantyne lived in Altadena, just a few minutes away from his Pasadena City College campus.
That all changed on Jan. 7 when the fire reached the home he’d lived in the past three years with his aunt and uncle, forcing them to quickly evacuate. He left with only the clothes he was wearing and the school backpack he had left in his car.
The home burned down later that day, and he was suddenly homeless, a situation he’d been in just a few years prior.
Among the people who lost their homes, livelihoods, and lives in the fires that ravaged Los Angeles early this year is a subset of young people who are in the foster care system and already knew the trauma of losing a home.
Ballantyne’s recovery from the devastation of the fire has not been easy, but it has been remarkably quick, a feat that highlights how imperative it is to pair stable housing with consistent, individualized support.
“I had stable housing with my legal guardians (in high school) and I had stable housing with my aunt. If it was just the stability, theoretically, I should have gotten through all of high school amazingly, flying colors,” he said. “I think it’s more so the type of support you get — you know it’s unconditional.”
Ballantyne, 25, was in the final stretch of transfer applications as the Eaton fire started. He was preparing the supplemental application for UC Berkeley’s business school, a highly competitive program. Less than 24 hours after it became available, however, he was fleeing from his family’s home, pushing finishing the application down his list of priorities.
Alex Ballantyne is a student at Pasadena City College, where he’s finishing his last semester before transferring to a four-year university.
“I almost felt like I was in my element, in the sense that it really wasn’t the first time I had nothing,” Ballantyne said in a recent interview. “And even though I say it feels pretty similar to how it was when I was homeless at 18, just having the support of my family … I feel like I landed on my feet.”
As soon as his friends and network found out that he had lost his home, they stepped in to help him rebuild. A friend started a GoFundMe donation page for him, and it quickly reached its goal. One Simple Wish — an organization that directly funds any need or want a foster youth might have — crowdfunded additional money to replace the school and office supplies he’d lost.
This quick support came from networks that Ballantyne had built over the years. He’s been part of organizations like First Star, a college readiness program for foster youth, where he met people like the founder of Jenni’s Flower, an LA-based organization that organizes events to empower foster youth. He is part of the foster youth programs at Pasadena City College, and he’s on the board of two nonprofits.
What mattered to Ballantyne, more than anything else, was that the support he received came with no strings attached and from people he knew truly cared for him.
“It’s really not the money that will get a foster kid through school or training or whatever they want to do,” Ballantyne said. “It’s the support, it’s the human connection, and it’s the feeling like they have somebody to lean on. That’s the most important part.”
In the months since the fires, One Simple Wish has provided thousands in funding to 12 foster youth in Los Angeles alone, including Ballantyne.
“Especially for minor children moving through the system, there’s not a lot of choice. You don’t often get to choose the neighborhood or the church you go to, the school you go to, the friendships that you can or can’t maintain, whether or not you get to stay with siblings; there’s just so much choice already being removed,” said Danielle Gletow, founder of One Simple Wish.
Her organization’s mission is to fill the gaps that other groups might leave: Instead of asking someone if they need a backpack, her team leaves the question open-ended, asking, “What would you like to put your belongings in?”
“Our goal is to just make sure that … what an individual needs in a time of crisis or challenging times, we put that power back in their hands,” said Gletow, who said the majority of funds come in as donations from supporters across the country.
Ballantyne knows that lack of choice firsthand. He entered the foster system during middle school after an unstable childhood, andmoved through four placements during his freshman year of high school, before being placed with a family who became his legal guardians until the age of 18. He said that despite having housing stability through most of high school, he earned a 2.9 GPA.
Today, weeks after his home burned down along with all of his belongings, coupled with the stress of waiting to hear back from colleges he applied to as he finishes his spring semester, he has maintained a 3.6 GPA.
It’s all in the support
At 18, shortly after graduating from high school, Ballantyne said he was kicked out of his foster home of three years and was homeless, couch surfing and working four jobs to get by, until he landed in transitional housing.
He enrolled in community college shortly after, but left before the semester was over, right as the Covid-19 pandemic was starting. He fell into a deep, long-lasting depression, and for the next three years, he spent most days playing video games, drinking, smoking weed and taking pills, he said.
His “wake-up call,” as he calls it, came in March 2021, when he received a text notifying him his grandmother was dying in the hospital. “I just remember feeling so helpless. I didn’t have the money to get an Uber to go see her,” he said. “I didn’t drive. I was doing nothing with myself.”
Ballantyne’s grandmother had been like his mother, he said, and she’d just died in the same hospital he’d been born in about two decades earlier. She was his champion, always reminding him how much she loved him.
While in the foster system, he had been estranged from his family for years, but as he helped his aunt prepare his grandmother’s home for sale, he told her about his living condition.
It was around this time that Ballantyne’s life started turning around. His decision to get a job at a Best Buy “changed everything.” He initially wanted the job just for the discounts on video games, but he came away with companionship, which he needed after having been isolated in his depression for years.
His aunt soon invited him to move in with her rent-free as long as he worked or attended school full-time and helped out around the house. He grabbed the opportunity and enrolled at Pasadena City College, where he is now just months from transferring to a four-year college.
He learned what it was like to receive unconditional support when he moved in with his biological family as an adult.
“I don’t think I was ever dumb,” he said, referring to the many years in which he didn’t excel academically. “I just don’t think I ever was in a situation where I truly, 100% felt comfortable and secure with where I was at.”
Ballantyne is currently living in Burbank, renting a room in a classmate’s apartment, while his uncle and aunt are staying with family farther north in Los Angeles County.
He’ll be there through the end of the summer, at which point he’ll be moving to whichever university he chooses among the four that accepted him so far. His rent is paid through August, thanks to the funding he received after the fires.
The network of friends and resources that stepped up to support Ballantyne is there for all other foster youth, both he and Gletow emphasized.
“We really do stress the importance of making connections wherever you can because it will matter as you get older. And as you become an adult, you have less and less of a network or safety net,” said Gletow, whose organization also has an educational wish fund where school staff can submit requests for flexible funding to use as needed.
Ballantyne did eventually submit his supplemental application to UC Berkeley’s business school on time when he was sheltering at a family member’s home. The application had a video component requiring applicants to record themselves answering prompt questions, but the desk in the room he was staying in was inside a closet — not an ideal setting for such an important video.
But Ballantyne knew he had everything he needed, including a newly replaced laptop, thanks to his friends and network, so he hit the record button and got to work making his goals a reality.
Five years ago, when Esti Iturralde’s daughter was in the first grade, the little girl struggled with learning to read. The teacher told her mother not to worry, Winnie just wasn’t ready yet, but Iturralde knew in her heart something was wrong.
She blamed herself, until the pandemic hit, the schools shuttered, and remote learning gave her a chance to peek inside the classroom. What she saw opened her eyes and shocked her into action.
“It really wasn’t until the school closures that I began to understand what she was missing,” said the Piedmont mom of two. “I got to see up close what was wrong with the lessons.”
Five years after Covid shuttered schools, the parent empowerment it sparked is going strong. While the pandemic inexorably disrupted everyone’s lives, parents faced a double whammy. Amid heated debates over masks, vaccines and school shutdowns, many parents found themselves on the front lines of hot-button issues on an almost daily basis. In that time of crisis, some families lost trust in the ability of the schools to meet the needs of their students.
Like Iturralde, some came to the conclusion that they had to fend for themselves. That’s one reason the pandemic became a watershed moment for a generation of parents. It shifted the dynamics between communities and schools, and, for some families, shook their faith in the school system in a lasting way.
“When schools remained closed for far longer than any other institution or business,” said Scott Moore, head of Kidango, a nonprofit that runs many Bay Area child care centers, “this broke the social compact that schools are compulsory for children because it is a critical function of civil society. It left parents in the lurch.”
That rude awakening spurred some parents to question all aspects of their child’s education, from the length of school closures to how reading is taught and how parental notification policies should work. Parents from all over the ideological spectrum, from people of color fighting for equity to conservative parents upholding traditional values, began to push for change. That surge of parental empowerment may be one of the lasting impacts of the pandemic.
“Parent empowerment and engagement certainly reached a peak during Covid school closures,” said Megan Bacigalupi, co-founder of CA Parent Power, an advocacy group. “The academic, social and mental health harms done to kids by those lengthy closures kept many parents engaged in their districts long after they reopened. One of the silver linings is that parents got a window into the classroom.”
All sorts of school governance issues that had long been taken for granted came under intense scrutiny, sparking a shift in thinking about public education. Some families got fed up. Instead of waiting for the system to adapt to their needs, they took matters into their own hands.
The dawning realization that Winnie was being taught to read by looking primarily at pictures, instead of words, was a red flag for Iturralde, who has a doctorate in behavioral science.
Esti Iturralde and her daughter Winnie read “Harry Potter” together at home in the living room while their dog Roscoe hangs out in August 2022.Credit: Andrew Reed / EdSource
She decided to teach her kiddo to read at home, to see if she would bloom with more phonics, which she did. Winnie was soon reading above grade level. That showed Iturralde that sometimes you have to take charge of your child’s learning.
“Before, I was content to just trust and trust, and now I’m less trusting,” said Iturralde, who shared some of her lessons on YouTube to help other parents. “It’s like the curtain gets pulled away, and you see, all of a sudden, there’s no wizard out there.”
To be sure, Lakisha Young had long walked the do-it-yourself path, but the Covid era gave her new fire. She believes the pandemic merely highlighted the ways public education has always failed to meet the needs of low-income children of color. Nearly 70% of Oakland students failed to meet the standard for reading on the state’s Smarter Balanced test in 2023.
“Nobody is coming to save us,” said Young, the co-founder and CEO of Oakland REACH, a parent advocacy group. “The system is broken. Black and brown kids are typically already behind their white peers before they even get to kindergarten, and then those gaps just get bigger. The reality is, we keep seeing generation after generation failing. Somebody’s got to stop the bleeding.”
Young has worked with families where illiteracy has been passed down from one generation to the next, like an heirloom. She has tried to empower parents, to put families in the driver’s seat.
“We’re freeing our families from the system,” said Young. “We’re liberating them from the system. If a parent shows up, does her part or his part, their kid’s going to get what they need.”
During lockdown, Young connected families to everything from laptops and cash assistance to a virtual academy. Now REACH is a hub for parent and caregiver tutors, which they call “liberators,” who go into classrooms, teaching reading and math in partnership with Oakland Unified.
“These babies have to learn how to read and do math,” she said. “We have to empower families to make sure their kids don’t get left behind.”
Left to their own devices at the kitchen table, many in the dyslexia community also experienced the pandemic as a lightning rod.
“People were frustrated their children were not getting the services they deserved,” said Megan Potente, co-state director of Decoding Dyslexia CA, an advocacy group. “There was a lot of learning happening among parents, who may have left things up to school if it weren’t for the unprecedented times of the pandemic and heightened feelings of urgency associated with seeing your child struggle at home.”
Many parents first organized out of frustration with extended school closures, she said, but then parlayed that momentum to push for education reforms, such as evidenced-based reading instruction, amid the state’s deepening literacy crisis.
“California schools are failing at their core function: teaching,” said Moore. “How many decades of data — showing less than half of students achieving proficiency in language and math — are needed before big innovation occurs?”
Lakisha YoungCredit: Courtesy of Oakland Reach
Emboldened by having to step up in a crisis, many parents began to demand a voice. Parents Supporting Teachers (PST) in Los Angeles began as a Facebook group during the LAUSD teachers strike in 2019 but gained momentum during the pandemic as parents began asking questions about how the district uses its funding.
“It’s important that we parents have a seat at the table when it comes to our children’s education,” said Vicky Martinez, a mother of three Los Angeles Unified (LAUSD) students and member of PST. “We know our kids best. You empower yourself with knowledge and ask questions and do some research and don’t be afraid. We need to be a part of the process so we can support our kids.”
Many hope that parental empowerment will remain robust even as the Covid years recede into memory. They are optimistic that families will continue to push for more transparency about academic standards and practices in the wake of falling test scores and widening achievement gaps.
“People want a fair shake, for themselves and their children,” said Moore. “Education is seen as the main vehicle for upward economic and social mobility. Yet the reality is, California’s education system only does well for those born into privilege, and it fails most everyone else.”
Many parents will continue to play a more active role in the education of their children. Iturralde, like most parents, has “bad memories” of the pandemic years and struggling to get her daughter what she needed, but all that effort has paid off.
She used what she learned about the science of reading, from the need for phonics to the importance of background knowledge, to tutor her younger daughter, Lorea, as well. She now also coaches Winnie on math, a subject in which she is poised to skip ahead a year.
“What I try to advise parents to do is to take care of your kid and advocate for your kid, but also try to think about the community,” she said. “When I make a fuss about something, I’m doing it because I think there are other kids whose parents are not going to be able to help them. You’ve got to zoom out and think about the big picture.”
Ricardo Alcaraz is taking three of his five courses online this semester at Santa Ana College: an anthropology class, business calculus and business law. It’s a course schedule that reflects a new reality and shift toward distance learning across California’s community colleges, largely sparked by the Covid-19 pandemic.
Taking classes online, though, isn’t ideal for Alcaraz, who is majoring in business administration and plans to transfer to Cal State Fullerton this fall. He enjoys in-person classes because he likes to arrive early and ask questions of his professors. His online classes, on the other hand, are asynchronous, meaning there’s no live instruction, and he has to direct his questions via email.
But like hundreds of thousands of other students in California, Alcaraz opts to enroll in many online classes because they fit better into his schedule. While enrolled at Santa Ana, he has worked up to 20 hours a week at the college’s Undocu-Scholars Center, a resource center for the college’s undocumented students. He’s also the student trustee for the Rancho Santiago Community College District, requiring him to be at board meetings and many campus events.
“It’s been hard to adapt to online classes. But due to how busy I’ve been and needing to be present in different areas, I feel like it’s been very helpful in a way,” he said.
During the pandemic five years ago, a significant majority of California community classes shifted online. Despite some early confusion and bumps in adapting to online education, distance education has firmly taken hold in the years since.
More than 40% of community college classes remain online statewide as of this year, about double what it was before the pandemic, and a much higher rate of remote education than exists at the state’s four-year universities. That includes hybrid classes, which mix online and some required in-person instruction. Some colleges also offer HyFlex courses, which give students the option of attending online or in person. The vast majority of the system’s online classes, however, are taught fully online and asynchronously.
Many campuses also have no choice but to cater to students to stabilize their enrollments and finances. Enrollment across the state plummeted during the pandemic — dropping 19% statewide — and is still below pre-pandemic levels.
College leaders and instructors say online education has proven an effective enough teaching and learning method, especially for general education classes, the lower-level coursework students take before diving into much of their major studies. Statewide, students pass both synchronous and asynchronous online courses at only a slightly lower rate than students pass in-person courses.
Still, officials acknowledge that many students benefit from face-to-face instruction and social interactions with their peers. Such interactions are less common now than they were pre-pandemic, with many campuses quieter and noticeably less crowded. Some colleges have begun to consider how they can entice students to return to campus.
“For a lot of students and a lot of instructors, the preference is to be in the classroom,” said John Hetts, executive vice chancellor for the statewide community college system. “That regular personal contact matters. I think a lot of students feel it, but the challenge we have as a system is that the vast majority of our students work.
“So how do we balance that? I think that’s going to be the challenge for our institutions, to support students getting what they need to thrive, but also what they need to be able to work,” he added.
Los Angeles City College
Just prior to the pandemic,21% of community college classes were online. That rate ballooned to nearly 70% of classes in 2020-21.
Some hands-on programs, like respiratory care and other health programs, were taught in person even during the pandemic because they met the state’s definition of essential education. Beyond those, most community colleges required other classes to be held online throughout the 2020-21 academic year. The next year, colleges began reopening in-person classes, with vaccine mandates in place.
Taylor Squires, a second-year technical theater arts student at Saddleback College in Orange County, takes as many of her general education classes online as possible, and sometimes other courses too. This past fall, her entire course load was online.
“It depends on the semester, but the reasoning is pretty much the same: it frees up time in my day to go do other things,” Squires said.
The state’s four-year university systems are also offering more classes online now than they did pre-pandemic. They offer them at a lower rate than the community colleges, but many of their students take at least one class online every semester or quarter. At the University of California’s nineundergraduate campuses, 6.4% of course sections were fully online in 2023-24, up from 1.8% in the year leading up to the pandemic. That percentage does not include hybrid classes.
Before the pandemic, online classes were a rarity at the 23-campus California State University. More than 90% of course sections were taught in person in each school year between 2016-17 and 2018-19. Then, the start of the pandemic supercharged what had been a gradual trend toward virtual learning.
Cal State campuses have not fully reverted to the pre-pandemic norm now that their campuses are no longer subject to restrictions on in-person gatherings. In the 2023-24 school year, 73% of course sections were taught face-to-face, and 75% of students took at least one course online. The percentage of courses offered in a hybrid format has more than doubled between 2016-17 and 2023-24.
At community colleges, some hands-on classes and programs need to be taught face-to-face because of the nature of the work, like science labs or trade programs such as welding or construction.
Otherwise, most community colleges and their academic departments decide on instructional delivery methods based on what will bring the most enrollments. At the state’s largest district, the nine-college Los Angeles Community College District, between 40% and 50% of classes are now taught online each semester. Before the pandemic, between 10% and 15% of classes were taught online.
“Based on our assumption of student demand, we may plan that 40% of our classes need to be online and 60% need to be in person. And if that 60% doesn’t materialize, we may shift some of that to online to give students more time to enroll,” said Nicole Albo-Lopez, the district’s deputy chancellor.
At the communication and media studies department at Folsom Lake College, department chair Paula Cardwell said the “North Star” is to offer classes the way students want them.
Cardwell has been teaching online classes since 2007, much longer than most, and said she finds it can be done “really, really well.” She said students in her public speaking classes tend to give each other even better feedback in Zoom chats than they do in person because they are less worried about hurting one another’s feelings.
Cardwell added, however, that there are challenges, especially with the proliferation of artificial intelligence and the likelihood of students using it to write their assignments. “So we are rethinking which classes we teach online or how we teach them because of that,” Cardwell said.
Foothill College in Santa Clara County has also been rethinking its approach, hoping to ease isolation and improve student mental health. The college, where about half of the classes were remote even before the pandemic and 55% remain online, is actually seeing face-to-face enrollment increase at a faster rate than courses taught online. This quarter, enrollment is up about 19% for in-person classes, said Kristina Whalen, the college’s president.
The college has opened new in-person facilities, including a wellness lounge where students can relax in massage chairs, meditate or talk to staff about getting connected to mental health services.
“Students are looking for that social interaction and the services that a campus affords,” Whalen said.
But Foothill still relies heavily on distance education and is constantly trying to refine its online instruction, Whalen said. The college this year began requiring additional training to ensure faculty teaching online are still engaging with students, such as by providing prompt and personalized feedback on student coursework.
“Up and down the state, I think colleges are asking and answering that question about how they are monitoring their online instruction to ensure that it’s of a quality that matches our on-ground instruction,” Whalen said.
Hetts, the executive vice chancellor for the community college system, noted that the chancellor’s office provides a rubric to ensure online classes are high quality. But he added that much of the training and review of those classes happens locally.
At the Los Angeles district, faculty are required to be certified to teach online as part of their union contract. Most faculty opt in to additional training, such as one focused on using artificial intelligence in the classroom, said Albo-Lopez. Faculty are regularly looking to build new skills because they know distance education is their new normal, she added.
“It’s here to stay because it’s created a new niche of flexibility both for our students, but also for our workforce,” she said. “And I think that that’s something that is going to be really difficult to change back.”
EdSource staff writer Amy DiPierro contributed reporting to this article.Abby Offenhauser, a member of the EdSource California Student Journalism Corps, also contributed reporting.
Trump is following through on his frequent threats to punish anyone who crossed him in the past. He recently ordered his compliant Attorney General to investigate two men who were critical of him during his first term. Elie Honig, a former federal prosecutor, wrote about the tyrannical nature of this action and about Pam Bondi’s willingness to do whatever he wants.
Donald Trump’s presidential payback tour rages on, and now it’s personal. It’s one thing to target multi-billion dollar law firms, universities, and media outlets for organizational retribution; those efforts, aimed at stifling and punishing any criticism or dissent, are reprehensible in their own right. But now Trump is going after individual private citizens, using the might of the Executive Branch to potentially throw his detractors in prison.
In a pair of official proclamations – rendered no less unhinged by the use of official fonts and White House letterhead – Trump identifies two targets who worked in the federal government during his first tenure and dared to speak out publicly against him. First: Chris Krebs, who led the Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency from 2018 to 2020 and made headlines when he publicly contradicted Trump’s false claim that the 2020 presidential election was stolen. For this act of heretical truth-telling, Trump labels Krebs “a significant bad-faith actor” – whatever the hell that means – who poses grave “risks” to the American public.
And then there’s Miles Taylor, a former Department of Homeland Security official who publicly criticized the President in an anonymous book and various media appearances. Taylor, like Krebs, purportedly poses “risks” to the United States, is a “bad-faith actor” (though apparently not a significant one like Krebs) and “stoked dissension” with his public commentary.
Are you scared? Don’t you fear the “risks” posed by these two monsters?
True to the form he has displayed when going after disfavored law firms, Trump hits below the belt. The President orders security clearances stripped not only from Krebs and Taylor but also from everyone who works with them (Krebs at a private cybersecurity firm, Taylor at the University of Pennsylvania). He’s punishing his targets – plus their employers and colleagues, First Amendment freedom of association be darned.
It gets worse. In a separate set of orders, Trump directed the Attorney General to open criminal investigations of Krebs and Taylor. Notably absent from the orders is any plausible notion that either might have committed a federal crime. This hardly needs to be said, but it’s not a federal crime to be a “bad-faith actor,” to “stoke dissension,” or even to be a “wise guy,” as Trump called Krebs from the Oval Office.
The next move is Pam Bondi’s – and we know how this will go.
Any reasonable, ethical attorney general would follow the bedrock principle that a prosecutor must have “predication” – some kernel of fact on which to believe a crime might have been committed – to open a criminal investigation. The bar is low, but it serves the vital purpose of preventing precisely the baseless retributive inquests that Trump has now ordered up. In observance of this foundational precept, even Bill Barr – the subject of sharp criticism in my first book, Hatchet Man – generally ignored Trump’s public pleas for the arrests of Barack Obama, Joe Biden, and others. Like the exhausted parent of an unruly toddler, Barr would mostly sit back and let the tantrum pass.
Don’t count on Bondi taking the same course of passive resistance to the President. She has already shown her true colors, and they’re whatever shade Trump pleases. For example, despite the distinct possibility of criminality by top administration officials around the Signal scandal, the AG refused even to investigate. Instead, she decreed – after zero inquiry, with zero evidence – that information about military attack plans was somehow not classified, and that nobody had acted recklessly. Case closed, no inquiry needed.
Bondi no longer deserves the benefit of the doubt. She’s in the bag for Trump. The question now is whether she’ll cross the line that even Barr, her crooked predecessor, would not, and use the Justice Department’s staggering investigative power as an offensive weapon.
Even if DOJ investigates but concludes it cannot bring a criminal charge, the threat to Krebs and Taylor is real. Any criminal inquiry takes an enormous toll on its subject; subpoenas fly, friends and colleagues get pulled into the grand jury, phones get seized and searched, legal costs mount, professional reputations suffer, personal ties fray. Ask anyone who has been investigated by the Justice Department but not indicted. They’ll tell you it’s a nightmare.
If Bondi does somehow convince a grand jury to indict somebody for something, Trump has unwittingly handed both Krebs and Taylor a potent defense: selective prosecution, which applies where an individual has been singled out for improper purposes. Exhibit A (for the defense): Trump’s own grand proclamations, which openly confess to his personal and political motives for ordering a Justice Department inquiry. Selective prosecution defenses rarely succeed, often because prosecutors typically don’t commit their improper motives to paper. But this would be the rare case where the evidence is so plain – it’s on White House letterhead, signed by the President – that a judge could hardly overlook it.
Trump has long made a habit of threatening his opponents with criminal prosecution through social media posts and by spontaneous outbursts from the lectern. Until now, it was mostly bluster, a public form of scream therapy for the capricious commander-in-chief. But now it’s in writing, from the president to the attorney general, who typically jumps to attention to serve whatever suits the boss, prosecutorial standards be darned. Trump’s dark fantasies are coming to life.
Elie Honig served as an Assistant U.S. Attorney in the Southern District of New York for 8.5 years and as the Director of the Division of Criminal Justice at the Office of Attorney General for the State of New Jersey for 5.5 years. He is currently a legal Analyst for CNN and Executive Director at Rutgers Institute for Secure Communities
