ATLANTA (AP) —U.S. health officials on Tuesday gave the final signoff to Pfizer’s kid-size COVID-19 shot, a major expansion of the nation’s vaccination campaign.

The Food and Drug Administration already authorized the shots for children ages 5 to 11 — doses just a third of the amount given to teens and adults. But the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention recommends who should receive FDA-cleared vaccines.

The announcement by CDC director Dr. Rochelle Walensky came only hours after an advisory panel unanimously decided Pfizer’s shots should be opened to the 28 million youngsters in that age group.

Millions of shots made by Pfizer and its partner BioNTech have already been shipped to states, doctors’ offices and pharmacies, to be ready for CDC’s decision.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/11/1635890433225.png" alt="CDC Director Rochelle Walensky" />
 <figcaption>CDC Director Rochelle Walensky</figcaption>
 </figure>ATLANTA (AP) —U.S. health officials on Tuesday gave the final signoff to Pfizer’s kid-size COVID-19 shot, a major expansion of the nation’s vaccination campaign.The Food and Drug Administration already authorized the shots for children ages 5 to 11 — doses just a third of the amount given to teens and adults. But the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention recommends who should receive FDA-cleared vaccines.<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/10/1635537216378.png" alt="The vaccine for children has an orange cap-Photo courtesy Pfizer" />
 <figcaption>The vaccine for children has an orange cap-Photo courtesy Pfizer</figcaption>
 </figure>The announcement by CDC director Dr. Rochelle Walensky came only hours after an advisory panel unanimously decided Pfizer’s shots should be opened to the 28 million youngsters in that age group.Millions of shots made by Pfizer and its partner BioNTech have already been shipped to states, doctors’ offices and pharmacies, to be ready for CDC’s decision.___

US gives final clearance to COVID-19 shots for kids 5 to 11

SEDGWICK COUNTY —Law enforcement authorities investigating a Halloween accident arrested 23-year-old Caleb Leivian of Wichita.

Just after 9p.m. Sunday, police working in the area of Douglas and Broadview were alerted by a citizen that someone had been hit by a car, according to Officer Trevor Macey.

Police located a &nbsp;4-year-old boy who had been struck by a westbound vehicle on Douglas.&nbsp;EMS and Fire Department personnel responded to treat the child, who was transported to an area hospital for treatment of non-life-threatening injuries. He has since been released.

Officers learned that the child was trick-or-treating in the area and had gone into the street where he was struck by the vehicle. 

The driver, identified as Leivian, was arrested on scene after an investigation revealed signs of impairment. He was booked into the Sedgwick County Jail on requested charges of Aggravated Battery; DUI Causing great bodily harm, DUI; 2nd&nbsp;conviction, No proof of insurance, and possession of drug paraphernalia. The case will be presented to the District Attorney’s Office.&nbsp;

A family member established a<a href="https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-and-healing-for-kimanis-family?utm_campaign=p_cf+share-flow-1&amp;utm_medium=copy_link&amp;utm_source=customer"> GoFundMe page</a> to assist with the expenses.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/11/1635799076053.png" alt="Leivian-photo Sedgwick Co. Jail&nbsp;" />
 <figcaption>Leivian-photo Sedgwick Co. Jail&nbsp;</figcaption>
 </figure>SEDGWICK COUNTY —Law enforcement authorities investigating a Halloween accident arrested 23-year-old Caleb Leivian of Wichita.Just after 9p.m. Sunday, police working in the area of Douglas and Broadview were alerted by a citizen that someone had been hit by a car, according to Officer Trevor Macey.Police located a &nbsp;4-year-old boy who had been struck by a westbound vehicle on Douglas.&nbsp;EMS and Fire Department personnel responded to treat the child, who was transported to an area hospital for treatment of non-life-threatening injuries. He has since been released.<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/11/1635863352628.png" alt="Photo courtesy GoFundMe" />
 <figcaption>Photo courtesy GoFundMe</figcaption>
 </figure>Officers learned that the child was trick-or-treating in the area and had gone into the street where he was struck by the vehicle. The driver, identified as Leivian, was arrested on scene after an investigation revealed signs of impairment. He was booked into the Sedgwick County Jail on requested charges of Aggravated Battery; DUI Causing great bodily harm, DUI; 2nd&nbsp;conviction, No proof of insurance, and possession of drug paraphernalia. The case will be presented to the District Attorney’s Office.&nbsp;A family member established a<a href="https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-and-healing-for-kimanis-family?utm_campaign=p_cf+share-flow-1&amp;utm_medium=copy_link&amp;utm_source=customer"> GoFundMe page</a> to assist with the expenses.

Kan. boy hit by alleged drunk driver while trick-or-treating is home

SEDGWICK COUNTY—Law enforcement authorities are investigating the  improper release of an inmate from the Sedgwick County Jail that occurred just before 9a.m. on Monday, according to Sheriff's Lt. Benjamin Blick.

Jamarcius Quayshaun Fisher, 30, was incarcerated as a pre-trail detainee on charges of Aggravated Burglary, Domestic Battery and Criminal Damage to Property.&nbsp; Authorities issued a warrant for Fisher’s arrest and took him into custody again just after 5p.m. Tuesday, according to Blick.

SEDGWICK COUNTY—Law enforcement authorities are investigating the&nbsp; improper release of an inmate from the Sedgwick County Jail that occurred just before 9a.m. on Monday, according to Sheriff's Lt. Benjamin Blick.

Jamarcius Quayshaun Fisher, 30, was incarcerated as a pre-trail detainee on charges of Aggravated Burglary, Domestic Battery and Criminal Damage to Property. A warrant for Fisher’s arrest has been issued.

Fisher was last known to live in the Wichita area. He is 5-foot-7 and weighs approximately 160 pounds with black hair and brown eyes.

If you know of Fisher’s whereabouts please call 911.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/11/1635890630290.png" alt="Fisher has previous convictions for burglary and theft, according to the Kan. Dept. of Corrections-photo Sedgwick Count" />
 <figcaption>Fisher has previous convictions for burglary and theft, according to the Kan. Dept. of Corrections-photo Sedgwick Count</figcaption>
 </figure>SEDGWICK COUNTY—Law enforcement authorities are investigating the improper release of an inmate from the Sedgwick County Jail that occurred just before 9a.m. on Monday, according to Sheriff's Lt. Benjamin Blick.Jamarcius Quayshaun Fisher, 30, was incarcerated as a pre-trail detainee on charges of Aggravated Burglary, Domestic Battery and Criminal Damage to Property.&nbsp; Authorities issued a warrant for Fisher’s arrest and took him into custody again just after 5p.m. Tuesday, according to Blick.------------------------SEDGWICK COUNTY—Law enforcement authorities are investigating the&nbsp; improper release of an inmate from the Sedgwick County Jail that occurred just before 9a.m. on Monday, according to Sheriff's Lt. Benjamin Blick.Jamarcius Quayshaun Fisher, 30, was incarcerated as a pre-trail detainee on charges of Aggravated Burglary, Domestic Battery and Criminal Damage to Property. A warrant for Fisher’s arrest has been issued.Fisher was last known to live in the Wichita area. He is 5-foot-7 and weighs approximately 160 pounds with black hair and brown eyes.If you know of Fisher’s whereabouts please call 911.

Kan. burglary suspect mistakenly released from jail, captured

TOPEKA, Kan. (AP) — An official recording of a Kansas legislative hearing that appears on a Legislative website and YouTube was edited to remove profanities directed at a journalist.

Justin Speihs was testifying Saturday against mask mandates before the Special Committee on Government Overreach and the Impact of COVID-19 Mandates when he began using profanity to criticize Sherman Smith, editor in chief of the Kansas Reflector.

Spiehs had previously asked Smith to provide coverage of his complaints against Lawrence school officials’ directives on masks. Smith declined Spiehs’ request, The Kansas City Star&nbsp;<a href="https://www.kansascity.com/news/politics-government/article255461496.html" target="_blank">reported.</a>

When the audio resumes, Sen. Renee Erickson, a Wichita Republican and chairwoman of the committee, is heard telling the audience the committee will not tolerate “that type of language or behavior.

J.G. Scott, director of the Kansas Legislative Research Department, said in an email the audio was edited “in an abundance of caution.”

“We now have the professionals working, after the Saturday meeting, to provide the legal perspective regarding (the) situation and a decision how to proceed will be made shortly,” Scott said.

Smith said he wasn’t concerned about what Spiehs thought of him. “But as a journalist, I think it’s important to preserve the public record,” he said.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/11/1635873957186.png" alt="Justin Speihs from his statement on mask mandates on Saturday." />
 <figcaption>Justin Speihs from his statement on mask mandates on Saturday.</figcaption>
 </figure>TOPEKA, Kan. (AP) — An official recording of a Kansas legislative hearing that appears on a Legislative website and YouTube was edited to remove profanities directed at a journalist.<div><iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/gbMG5nbJENM?start=19751" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe></div>Justin Speihs was testifying Saturday against mask mandates before the Special Committee on Government Overreach and the Impact of COVID-19 Mandates when he began using profanity to criticize Sherman Smith, editor in chief of the Kansas Reflector.Spiehs had previously asked Smith to provide coverage of his complaints against Lawrence school officials’ directives on masks. Smith declined Spiehs’ request, The Kansas City Star&nbsp;<a href="https://www.kansascity.com/news/politics-government/article255461496.html" target="_blank">reported.</a>When the audio resumes, Sen. Renee Erickson, a Wichita Republican and chairwoman of the committee, is heard telling the audience the committee will not tolerate “that type of language or behavior.J.G. Scott, director of the Kansas Legislative Research Department, said in an email the audio was edited “in an abundance of caution.”“We now have the professionals working, after the Saturday meeting, to provide the legal perspective regarding (the) situation and a decision how to proceed will be made shortly,” Scott said.Smith said he wasn’t concerned about what Spiehs thought of him. “But as a journalist, I think it’s important to preserve the public record,” he said.

🎥Profanities removed from Kansas legislative hearing audio

RILEY COUNTY—Law enforcement authorities are investigating alleged forgery and identity theft in Manhattan.

Just after 1p.m. Monday, officers filed a report for theft by deception in the 3100 block of Anderson Ave. in Manhattan, according to the Riley County Police Department activity report.

Robbins Motor Company reported an unknown male suspect used fake information to purchase a 2019 dark blue Dodge Challenger. 

The estimated total loss associated with this case is approximately $37, 495.

 Anyone with information can contact RCPD or the Manhattan Riley County Crime Stoppers. Using the Crime Stoppers service can allow you to remain anonymous and could qualify you for a cash reward of up to $1,000.

RILEY COUNTY—Law enforcement authorities are investigating alleged forgery and identity theft in Manhattan.Just after 1p.m. Monday, officers filed a report for theft by deception in the 3100 block of Anderson Ave. in Manhattan, according to the Riley County Police Department activity report.Robbins Motor Company reported an unknown male suspect used fake information to purchase a 2019 dark blue Dodge Challenger. The estimated total loss associated with this case is approximately $37, 495. Anyone with information can contact RCPD or the Manhattan Riley County Crime Stoppers. Using the Crime Stoppers service can allow you to remain anonymous and could qualify you for a cash reward of up to $1,000.

Suspect used fake information to buy $37,000 car in Kansas

OVERLAND PARK, Kan. (AP) — Kansas Democrat and former U.S. Rep. Dennis Moore has died at the age of 75. He was a former prosecutor who represented a Kansas City-area district that previously had seemed safe for Republicans. The former congressman’s wife said he died of cancer Tuesday, and he also had Alzheimer’s for several years. 

Moore won the seat for the 3rd Congressional District in 1998 by unseating freshman conservative Republican Rep. Vince Snowbarger. The GOP had held the seat since 1961 but Moore had previously shown that he could attract votes from moderate Republicans and independents in winning three terms as Johnson County district attorney. Moore did not seek reelection in 2010.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/11/1635876366047.png" alt="Dennis Moore -photo courtesy Kansas State Historical Society" />
 <figcaption>Dennis Moore -photo courtesy Kansas State Historical Society</figcaption>
 </figure>OVERLAND PARK, Kan. (AP) — Kansas Democrat and former U.S. Rep. Dennis Moore has died at the age of 75. He was a former prosecutor who represented a Kansas City-area district that previously had seemed safe for Republicans. The former congressman’s wife said he died of cancer Tuesday, and he also had Alzheimer’s for several years. Moore won the seat for the 3rd Congressional District in 1998 by unseating freshman conservative Republican Rep. Vince Snowbarger. The GOP had held the seat since 1961 but Moore had previously shown that he could attract votes from moderate Republicans and independents in winning three terms as Johnson County district attorney. Moore did not seek reelection in 2010.

Dennis Moore, ex-Democrat Kan. congressman has died

CORRECTED 1:20 p.m. Wednesday: The original version of this story incorrectly listed the wrong pay for workers at the Tyson plant. New workers start at $20 an hour.

This is the second of a two-part series looking at what meatpacking has meant for southwest Kansas. Click <a href="https://hayspost.com/posts/bed159a1-c391-4a17-a84c-31da5504046a">HERE</a> to read the first part.

By DAVID CONDOS <a href="https://www.hppr.org/hppr-news/2021-11-01/kansas-meatpacking-workers-fueled-an-economic-boom-but-many-need-food-pantries-to-get-by">Kansas News Service</a>

GARDEN CITY — Outside an old, white two-story house in
 downtown Garden City, dozens of people stand in a loose row that spills
 out of the driveway and onto the sidewalk.

Many of them show up 
here at Emmaus House — the largest food pantry in southwest Kansas — 
every Wednesday and Friday. And they walk away with free boxes filled 
with everything from frozen bacon to salad kits to frosted cakes that 
sustain their families for another week.

Much of the food in those
 boxes was donated by the area’s largest employer, Tyson Foods. Its 
meatpacking plant has lifted Garden City to new heights of prosperity in
 the four decades since it opened on the outskirts of town.

But for many of the workers who hold down the tough jobs in that giant slaughterhouse, the reality isn’t always so rosy.

Nearly
 half of the people who stand in line at this food pantry on a given 
week come from families employed at Tyson’s meatpacking plant.

The scene at <a href="https://emmaushouseks.com/" target="_blank">Emmaus House</a>
 illustrates the ongoing growing pains Garden City has faced during its 
transformation from a small farming community to a meatpacking boom 
town. In the decades since Tyson’s plant opened, the number of jobs in 
Garden City has skyrocketed, but the per capita incomes in town have <a href="http://www.ipsr.ku.edu/conferen/kepc11/HarvestofChange.pdf" target="_blank">lost pace</a> with the rest of Kansas. And the number of people living in poverty and seeking food assistance has <a href="http://www.ipsr.ku.edu/conferen/kepc11/HarvestofChange.pdf" target="_blank">soared</a>.

“A
 lot of people think, ‘Well, you're working at Tyson, so you're making 
really good money,’ Robin Marsh, Emmaus House’s executive director, 
said. “By the time you pay your rent, by the time you pay your utilities
 … they don't have enough for food.”

Tyson recently raised starting pay at this plant to $20 per hour, but many workers' families still meet the poverty income guidelines that qualify them for food assistance from Emmaus House.

Each family that Emmaus House serves falls below the poverty line in 
order to qualify for assistance. And that group keeps growing.

The number of meals Emmaus House served <a href="http://www.ipsr.ku.edu/conferen/kepc11/HarvestofChange.pdf" target="_blank">nearly quadrupled</a>
 between 2000 and 2010. On a single day, roughly 160 families pick up 
grocery boxes from the food bank. When demand peaked earlier in the 
pandemic, that number jumped to 400.

And Tyson — which directly provides roughly <a href="https://www.census.gov/quickfacts/fact/table/finneycountykansas/PST045219" target="_blank">one of every five jobs</a>
 in the county — sits at the center of what’s both wildly prosperous and
 persistently challenging about life in modern Garden City. Without the 
massive beef processing operation, this small city would likely be 
withering like so many other Great Plains communities.

But when 
many workers at the area’s largest employer can’t afford their families’
 basic needs, the question of whether or not Garden City has found 
success grows more complicated.

“It's always positive when you see growth,” Marsh said. “But if you look behind the camera, there are issues.”

When what was then the world’s largest 
meatpacking plant opened here in 1980, Garden City had a problem: It 
needed thousands of new workers.

At the time, the town had roughly
 18,000 residents and virtually no unemployment. So it opened its doors 
to immigrants and refugees, with an assist from the company that 
originally ran the giant slaughterhouse, IBP.

IBP recruited many of the <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/3627793" target="_blank">2,000 south Asian refugees</a> who migrated to Garden City around that time. It even broadcast help wanted ads on <a href="http://www.ipsr.ku.edu/conferen/kepc11/HarvestofChange.pdf" target="_blank">border town radio</a> stations to reach potential workers in Mexico.

“They
 followed the theory from the movie ‘Field of Dreams’: ‘Build it and 
they will come,’” said Don Stull, a former University of Kansas 
professor. “And they did come.”

Stull studied the meatpacking industry’s impact on Garden City for three decades as an anthropology professor and <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Slaughterhouse-Blues-Poultry-Industry-Contemporary/dp/1111828784" target="_blank">author</a>. He said the plant’s workforce grew faster than the town’s housing market and social service systems could handle.

“Jobs come with costs,” Stull said. “And they don't talk about the costs.”

And because the meatpacking jobs had an annual turnover rate of nearly <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/07311214211012025" target="_blank">100%</a>, the company had to keep recruiting new waves of workers. Over and over again.

In the plant’s first five years, Garden City pulled in <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/07311214211012025" target="_blank">6,000</a> new residents. But the town didn’t have anywhere to put them.

The situation became so dire that city leaders held a press conference <a href="http://www.ipsr.ku.edu/conferen/kepc11/HarvestofChange.pdf" target="_blank">imploring residents</a>
 to open their homes to workers who had nowhere else to sleep. A year 
after opening, the plant surveyed its employees and found that one-third
 were paying excessive rent and <a href="http://www.ipsr.ku.edu/conferen/kepc11/HarvestofChange.pdf" target="_blank">one out of 20</a> workers was living in a car or motel.

For the immigrants and refugees who come to town to join the 
meatpacking plant’s 3,000-plus workforce today, the outlook hasn’t 
gotten much sunnier.

“Once they get here, they’re like, ‘Where are
 we going to live? Crap, we can't afford a $900 house payment,’” Marsh 
of Emmaus House said. “Those are the struggles that we still deal with 
and always have. … And if you don't believe me, drive out to IBP 
trailers.”

That’s a plot with hundreds of mobile homes lined up in
 long rows on the east side of town. IBP pushed the city to rezone the 
land in the 1980s specifically to house some of the plant’s early 
employees.

And it’s still there today. Marsh says it's common for a home there to have a hole in the floor. Or no windows.

But residents often can’t afford to move to a better place — if they could even find one.

City
 manager Matt Allen said the area continues to be about 600 to 700 
housing units short of demand. And that need grows by around 10% each 
year.

“The answer is pretty simple. … We need more houses,” Allen said. “It's the ‘How do you get those?’ That's the difficulty.”

Housing is far from the only growing pain that continues to strain Garden City in the wake of the meatpacking plant’s arrival.

Law
 enforcement, hospitals and schools have had to bridge language gaps 
between critical services and the dozens of languages residents speak.

In
 2000, half the students in Garden City’s public school system received 
free or reduced lunch because of their families’ low incomes. Today, 
that number’s up to two-thirds.

The Garden City area also ranks as <a href="https://www.khi.org/assets/uploads/news/15162/finney_county_2021.pdf" target="_blank">among the state’s lowest</a>
 for quality of life and health outcomes — and the social and economic 
factors that drive them. For example, adults in Finney County are about <a href="https://www.rwjf.org/en/cultureofhealth/what-were-learning/sentinel-communities/finney-county-kansas.html" target="_blank">twice as likely</a> to lack a primary care doctor and 50% more likely to be in poor health compared to the state average.

And
 without the same resources that big cities have, the extra work to make
 sure people don’t fall through the cracks often falls to regular folks 
who choose to step in and help.

People like Dominican Sister Janice Thome.

“We don’t have to ever worry about having enough to do,” she said. “There’s always going to be plenty.”

Most every week for the past 25 years, she has pulled her compact car
 up to Emmaus House and filled it with boxes of groceries. Then she 
starts her route, delivering the food to a rotating cast of families 
scattered across Garden City who can’t afford it and aren’t able to come
 to the food bank.

Just about the only time she doesn’t do this is
 when she’s busy lending a hand to one of the community’s other many 
needs. The previous week, she drove someone to Kansas City to meet with 
an immigration lawyer.

“It’s worth the effort to do all of this,” she said, “because look how we can sustain people’s lives, better people's lives.”

Forty
 years after the town debated whether or not to welcome the meatpacking 
plant and its thousands of immigrant and refugee workers, Thome said 
it’s hard to find someone who doesn’t think pushing for the plant was 
the right decision.

Pretty much everyone she knows in Garden City 
today values how the steady stream of new arrivals keeps the town alive —
 not just economically, but also with a cultural vibrancy that has made 
the town a richer place for everyone.

For Thome, it’s all part of living in a city that boasts the slogan: “The world grows here.”

“We're living it,” she said. “And I think it's wonderful.”

But as Garden City keeps growing, the patchwork of support that takes care of so many of its vulnerable residents will continue to face strains.

Across
 the street from the mobile home park IBP built, for example, another 
food conglomerate is building a new ground beef plant that will add a 
couple hundred more jobs to the city’s meat workforce over the next two 
years.

But as rural towns across the U.S. lose residents, having to find 
ways to deal with the growing pains still beats depopulation and a 
shrinking economy.

“Whatever challenges exist, I found that in the
 vast majority of these smaller locations, refugees — and immigrants 
more broadly — were an absolute lifeline,” Pablo Bose, who teaches about
 the geography of race at the University of Vermont, said. “I actually 
heard that particular statement like, ‘These newcomers are a lifeline.’”

Bose
 has researched refugee resettlement in America for the past decade. His
 research shows that community-based systems for supporting new 
immigrants in small towns can be highly effective because they get more 
people to buy in.

But the downside is that big cities with a 
longer history of immigration tend to have more systems in place to 
support newcomers. In rural areas, makeshift community safety nets can 
fray if they’re missing just one key person. Someone like sister Janice.

“When
 that individual gets burnt out, or retires … you have to go through a 
whole process of getting somebody up to speed,” Bose said. “It makes it 
precarious.”

Tyson Foods said in a statement that its southwest Kansas employees are "critical to (the company's) success" and touted the plant's recent initiatives aimed at boosting worker satisfaction, such as increased pay and flexible scheduling.

But when so much of Garden City’s fortunes ride the whims of a multinational conglomerate headquartered in another state, it puts a lot of what the community has gained at risk.

The
 city has tried to bring in different industries, but city manager Matt 
Allen said that meatpacking remains the backbone of the local economy.

“We’re
 still largely dependent on Tyson not only being in operation, but being
 in operation near full capacity,” he said. “Everything else sort of 
depends on that.”

And at any point, Tyson could choose to close or relocate this plant if it makes sense for its business.

That’s not some far-fetched hypothetical for Garden City — the town has actually been through that before.

There
 used to be a second meatpacking plant here run by another giant food 
company, ConAgra. That one suddenly shut down on Christmas Day in 2000 
after a fire put 2,300 people out of work overnight and sent local 
social services agencies scrambling.

When Garden City’s leaders 
traveled to ConAgra headquarters the following spring to essentially beg
 the company to come back, its executives <a href="http://www.ipsr.ku.edu/conferen/kepc11/HarvestofChange.pdf" target="_blank">refused</a> to meet with them. The plant never reopened.

“They
 didn't really give a damn about Garden City,” Stull, the KU professor, 
said, “and I think that's true of these multinational corporations in 
general.”

So whether it’s shoring up the city’s economic future or
 caring for the needs of its residents, Stull said Garden City and other
 meatpacking towns can’t look to the companies that run the plants to 
save the day.

“They’re not in the business of providing housing or health care,” he said. “They're in the business of making meat.”

David Condos covers western Kansas for High Plains Public Radio and the Kansas News Service. You can follow him on Twitter <a href="http://twitter.com/davidcondos" target="_blank">@davidcondos</a>.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/11/1635860880461.png" alt="A line of people wait for the food pantry to open at Emmaus House. Maria Hernandez, center, cooks for the shelter's soup kitchen in addition to helping pass out groceries. David Condos / Kansas News Service" />
 <figcaption>A line of people wait for the food pantry to open at Emmaus House. Maria Hernandez, center, cooks for the shelter's soup kitchen in addition to helping pass out groceries. David Condos / Kansas News Service</figcaption>
 </figure>CORRECTED 1:20 p.m. Wednesday: The original version of this story incorrectly listed the wrong pay for workers at the Tyson plant. New workers start at $20 an hour.This is the second of a two-part series looking at what meatpacking has meant for southwest Kansas. Click <a href="https://hayspost.com/posts/bed159a1-c391-4a17-a84c-31da5504046a">HERE</a> to read the first part.By DAVID CONDOS <a href="https://www.hppr.org/hppr-news/2021-11-01/kansas-meatpacking-workers-fueled-an-economic-boom-but-many-need-food-pantries-to-get-by">Kansas News Service</a>GARDEN CITY — Outside an old, white two-story house in
 downtown Garden City, dozens of people stand in a loose row that spills
 out of the driveway and onto the sidewalk.Many of them show up 
here at Emmaus House — the largest food pantry in southwest Kansas — 
every Wednesday and Friday. And they walk away with free boxes filled 
with everything from frozen bacon to salad kits to frosted cakes that 
sustain their families for another week.Much of the food in those
 boxes was donated by the area’s largest employer, Tyson Foods. Its 
meatpacking plant has lifted Garden City to new heights of prosperity in
 the four decades since it opened on the outskirts of town.But for many of the workers who hold down the tough jobs in that giant slaughterhouse, the reality isn’t always so rosy.Nearly
 half of the people who stand in line at this food pantry on a given 
week come from families employed at Tyson’s meatpacking plant.<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/11/1635861051292.png" alt="People check in to receive boxes of groceries at the Emmaus House food pantry. The number of meals served at Emmaus House nearly quadrupled between 2000 and 2010. David Condos" />
 <figcaption>People check in to receive boxes of groceries at the Emmaus House food pantry. The number of meals served at Emmaus House nearly quadrupled between 2000 and 2010. David Condos</figcaption>
 </figure>The scene at <a href="https://emmaushouseks.com/" target="_blank">Emmaus House</a>
 illustrates the ongoing growing pains Garden City has faced during its 
transformation from a small farming community to a meatpacking boom 
town. In the decades since Tyson’s plant opened, the number of jobs in 
Garden City has skyrocketed, but the per capita incomes in town have <a href="http://www.ipsr.ku.edu/conferen/kepc11/HarvestofChange.pdf" target="_blank">lost pace</a> with the rest of Kansas. And the number of people living in poverty and seeking food assistance has <a href="http://www.ipsr.ku.edu/conferen/kepc11/HarvestofChange.pdf" target="_blank">soared</a>.“A
 lot of people think, ‘Well, you're working at Tyson, so you're making 
really good money,’ Robin Marsh, Emmaus House’s executive director, 
said. “By the time you pay your rent, by the time you pay your utilities
 … they don't have enough for food.”Tyson recently raised starting pay at this plant to $20 per hour, but many workers' families still meet the poverty income guidelines that qualify them for food assistance from Emmaus House.<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/11/1635861252867.png" alt="" />
 <figcaption></figcaption>
 </figure>Each family that Emmaus House serves falls below the poverty line in 
order to qualify for assistance. And that group keeps growing.The number of meals Emmaus House served <a href="http://www.ipsr.ku.edu/conferen/kepc11/HarvestofChange.pdf" target="_blank">nearly quadrupled</a>
 between 2000 and 2010. On a single day, roughly 160 families pick up 
grocery boxes from the food bank. When demand peaked earlier in the 
pandemic, that number jumped to 400.And Tyson — which directly provides roughly <a href="https://www.census.gov/quickfacts/fact/table/finneycountykansas/PST045219" target="_blank">one of every five jobs</a>
 in the county — sits at the center of what’s both wildly prosperous and
 persistently challenging about life in modern Garden City. Without the 
massive beef processing operation, this small city would likely be 
withering like so many other Great Plains communities.But when 
many workers at the area’s largest employer can’t afford their families’
 basic needs, the question of whether or not Garden City has found 
success grows more complicated.“It's always positive when you see growth,” Marsh said. “But if you look behind the camera, there are issues.”<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/11/1635861292063.png" alt="A woman browses baked goods at the Emmaus House food pantry. The organization provides food for roughly 160 families in Garden City every week. David Condos" />
 <figcaption>A woman browses baked goods at the Emmaus House food pantry. The organization provides food for roughly 160 families in Garden City every week. David Condos</figcaption>
 </figure><h2>Boom town</h2>When what was then the world’s largest 
meatpacking plant opened here in 1980, Garden City had a problem: It 
needed thousands of new workers.At the time, the town had roughly
 18,000 residents and virtually no unemployment. So it opened its doors 
to immigrants and refugees, with an assist from the company that 
originally ran the giant slaughterhouse, IBP.IBP recruited many of the <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/3627793" target="_blank">2,000 south Asian refugees</a> who migrated to Garden City around that time. It even broadcast help wanted ads on <a href="http://www.ipsr.ku.edu/conferen/kepc11/HarvestofChange.pdf" target="_blank">border town radio</a> stations to reach potential workers in Mexico.“They
 followed the theory from the movie ‘Field of Dreams’: ‘Build it and 
they will come,’” said Don Stull, a former University of Kansas 
professor. “And they did come.”<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/11/1635861346153.png" alt="Workers cut and package beef in the early days of IBP's Finney County meatpacking plant. Finney County Historical Society" />
 <figcaption>Workers cut and package beef in the early days of IBP's Finney County meatpacking plant. Finney County Historical Society</figcaption>
 </figure>Stull studied the meatpacking industry’s impact on Garden City for three decades as an anthropology professor and <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Slaughterhouse-Blues-Poultry-Industry-Contemporary/dp/1111828784" target="_blank">author</a>. He said the plant’s workforce grew faster than the town’s housing market and social service systems could handle.“Jobs come with costs,” Stull said. “And they don't talk about the costs.”And because the meatpacking jobs had an annual turnover rate of nearly <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/07311214211012025" target="_blank">100%</a>, the company had to keep recruiting new waves of workers. Over and over again.In the plant’s first five years, Garden City pulled in <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/full/10.1177/07311214211012025" target="_blank">6,000</a> new residents. But the town didn’t have anywhere to put them.The situation became so dire that city leaders held a press conference <a href="http://www.ipsr.ku.edu/conferen/kepc11/HarvestofChange.pdf" target="_blank">imploring residents</a>
 to open their homes to workers who had nowhere else to sleep. A year 
after opening, the plant surveyed its employees and found that one-third
 were paying excessive rent and <a href="http://www.ipsr.ku.edu/conferen/kepc11/HarvestofChange.pdf" target="_blank">one out of 20</a> workers was living in a car or motel.<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/11/1635861386823.png" alt="This row of mobile homes sits in the part of town commonly known as "IBP trailers." It was developed in the 1980s to house some of the meatpacking plant's early workers. David Condos" />
 <figcaption>This row of mobile homes sits in the part of town commonly known as "IBP trailers." It was developed in the 1980s to house some of the meatpacking plant's early workers. David Condos</figcaption>
 </figure>For the immigrants and refugees who come to town to join the 
meatpacking plant’s 3,000-plus workforce today, the outlook hasn’t 
gotten much sunnier.“Once they get here, they’re like, ‘Where are
 we going to live? Crap, we can't afford a $900 house payment,’” Marsh 
of Emmaus House said. “Those are the struggles that we still deal with 
and always have. … And if you don't believe me, drive out to IBP 
trailers.”That’s a plot with hundreds of mobile homes lined up in
 long rows on the east side of town. IBP pushed the city to rezone the 
land in the 1980s specifically to house some of the plant’s early 
employees.And it’s still there today. Marsh says it's common for a home there to have a hole in the floor. Or no windows.But residents often can’t afford to move to a better place — if they could even find one.City
 manager Matt Allen said the area continues to be about 600 to 700 
housing units short of demand. And that need grows by around 10% each 
year.“The answer is pretty simple. … We need more houses,” Allen said. “It's the ‘How do you get those?’ That's the difficulty.”<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/11/1635861424964.png" alt="Brittney Knoll, director of the Emmaus House food pantry, sorts groceries into the boxes that people will take home. She said nearly half of the people who pick up food here come from families employed at the Tyson meatpacking plant. David Condos" />
 <figcaption>Brittney Knoll, director of the Emmaus House food pantry, sorts groceries into the boxes that people will take home. She said nearly half of the people who pick up food here come from families employed at the Tyson meatpacking plant. David Condos</figcaption>
 </figure><h2>Safety nets</h2>Housing is far from the only growing pain that continues to strain Garden City in the wake of the meatpacking plant’s arrival.Law
 enforcement, hospitals and schools have had to bridge language gaps 
between critical services and the dozens of languages residents speak.In
 2000, half the students in Garden City’s public school system received 
free or reduced lunch because of their families’ low incomes. Today, 
that number’s up to two-thirds.The Garden City area also ranks as <a href="https://www.khi.org/assets/uploads/news/15162/finney_county_2021.pdf" target="_blank">among the state’s lowest</a>
 for quality of life and health outcomes — and the social and economic 
factors that drive them. For example, adults in Finney County are about <a href="https://www.rwjf.org/en/cultureofhealth/what-were-learning/sentinel-communities/finney-county-kansas.html" target="_blank">twice as likely</a> to lack a primary care doctor and 50% more likely to be in poor health compared to the state average.And
 without the same resources that big cities have, the extra work to make
 sure people don’t fall through the cracks often falls to regular folks 
who choose to step in and help.People like Dominican Sister Janice Thome.“We don’t have to ever worry about having enough to do,” she said. “There’s always going to be plenty.”<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/11/1635861471808.png" alt="Sister Janice Thome loads boxes of groceries into her car at the Emmaus House food bank. David Condos" />
 <figcaption>Sister Janice Thome loads boxes of groceries into her car at the Emmaus House food bank. David Condos</figcaption>
 </figure>Most every week for the past 25 years, she has pulled her compact car
 up to Emmaus House and filled it with boxes of groceries. Then she 
starts her route, delivering the food to a rotating cast of families 
scattered across Garden City who can’t afford it and aren’t able to come
 to the food bank.Just about the only time she doesn’t do this is
 when she’s busy lending a hand to one of the community’s other many 
needs. The previous week, she drove someone to Kansas City to meet with 
an immigration lawyer.“It’s worth the effort to do all of this,” she said, “because look how we can sustain people’s lives, better people's lives.”Forty
 years after the town debated whether or not to welcome the meatpacking 
plant and its thousands of immigrant and refugee workers, Thome said 
it’s hard to find someone who doesn’t think pushing for the plant was 
the right decision.Pretty much everyone she knows in Garden City 
today values how the steady stream of new arrivals keeps the town alive —
 not just economically, but also with a cultural vibrancy that has made 
the town a richer place for everyone.For Thome, it’s all part of living in a city that boasts the slogan: “The world grows here.”“We're living it,” she said. “And I think it's wonderful.”But as Garden City keeps growing, the patchwork of support that takes care of so many of its vulnerable residents will continue to face strains.Across
 the street from the mobile home park IBP built, for example, another 
food conglomerate is building a new ground beef plant that will add a 
couple hundred more jobs to the city’s meat workforce over the next two 
years.<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/11/1635861511091.png" alt="This sign marks the future site of Empirical Foods' forthcoming ground beef plant. It plans to add at least 250 more jobs to Garden City's meat processing workforce. David Condos" />
 <figcaption>This sign marks the future site of Empirical Foods' forthcoming ground beef plant. It plans to add at least 250 more jobs to Garden City's meat processing workforce. David Condos</figcaption>
 </figure>But as rural towns across the U.S. lose residents, having to find 
ways to deal with the growing pains still beats depopulation and a 
shrinking economy.“Whatever challenges exist, I found that in the
 vast majority of these smaller locations, refugees — and immigrants 
more broadly — were an absolute lifeline,” Pablo Bose, who teaches about
 the geography of race at the University of Vermont, said. “I actually 
heard that particular statement like, ‘These newcomers are a lifeline.’”Bose
 has researched refugee resettlement in America for the past decade. His
 research shows that community-based systems for supporting new 
immigrants in small towns can be highly effective because they get more 
people to buy in.But the downside is that big cities with a 
longer history of immigration tend to have more systems in place to 
support newcomers. In rural areas, makeshift community safety nets can 
fray if they’re missing just one key person. Someone like sister Janice.“When
 that individual gets burnt out, or retires … you have to go through a 
whole process of getting somebody up to speed,” Bose said. “It makes it 
precarious.”<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/11/1635861551855.png" alt="A volunteer helps a woman pick groceries to add to her box at the Emmaus House food pantry. David Condos" />
 <figcaption>A volunteer helps a woman pick groceries to add to her box at the Emmaus House food pantry. David Condos</figcaption>
 </figure><h2>It’s business</h2>Tyson Foods said in a statement that its southwest Kansas employees are "critical to (the company's) success" and touted the plant's recent initiatives aimed at boosting worker satisfaction, such as increased pay and flexible scheduling.But when so much of Garden City’s fortunes ride the whims of a multinational conglomerate headquartered in another state, it puts a lot of what the community has gained at risk.The
 city has tried to bring in different industries, but city manager Matt 
Allen said that meatpacking remains the backbone of the local economy.“We’re
 still largely dependent on Tyson not only being in operation, but being
 in operation near full capacity,” he said. “Everything else sort of 
depends on that.”<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/11/1635861595194.png" alt="Tyson Foods' beef plant directly provides roughly one of every five jobs in Finney County and drives the local economy. David Condos" />
 <figcaption>Tyson Foods' beef plant directly provides roughly one of every five jobs in Finney County and drives the local economy. David Condos</figcaption>
 </figure>And at any point, Tyson could choose to close or relocate this plant if it makes sense for its business.That’s not some far-fetched hypothetical for Garden City — the town has actually been through that before.There
 used to be a second meatpacking plant here run by another giant food 
company, ConAgra. That one suddenly shut down on Christmas Day in 2000 
after a fire put 2,300 people out of work overnight and sent local 
social services agencies scrambling.When Garden City’s leaders 
traveled to ConAgra headquarters the following spring to essentially beg
 the company to come back, its executives <a href="http://www.ipsr.ku.edu/conferen/kepc11/HarvestofChange.pdf" target="_blank">refused</a> to meet with them. The plant never reopened.“They
 didn't really give a damn about Garden City,” Stull, the KU professor, 
said, “and I think that's true of these multinational corporations in 
general.”So whether it’s shoring up the city’s economic future or
 caring for the needs of its residents, Stull said Garden City and other
 meatpacking towns can’t look to the companies that run the plants to 
save the day.“They’re not in the business of providing housing or health care,” he said. “They're in the business of making meat.”David Condos covers western Kansas for High Plains Public Radio and the Kansas News Service. You can follow him on Twitter <a href="http://twitter.com/davidcondos" target="_blank">@davidcondos</a>.

Kan. meatpacking workers fueled boom, but many need food pantries to get by

KANSAS CITY (AP) —At a Georgia state House of Representatives hearing on prison conditions in September, a corrections officer called in to testify, interrupting his shift to tell lawmakers how dire conditions had become.

On a “good day,” he told lawmakers, he had maybe six or seven officers to supervise roughly 1,200 people. He said he had recently been assigned to look after 400 prisoners by himself. There weren’t enough nurses to provide medical care.

“All the officers … absolutely despise working there,” said the officer, who didn’t give his name for fear of retaliation.

In Texas, Lance Lowry quit after 20 years as a corrections officer to become a long-haul trucker because he couldn’t bear the job any longer. Watching friends and coworkers die from COVID-19, along with dwindling support from his superiors, wore on him.

“I would have liked to stay till I was 50,” said Lowry, 48. “But the pandemic changed that.”

Staff shortages have long been a challenge for prison agencies, given the low pay and grueling nature of the work. But the coronavirus pandemic — and its impact on the labor market — has pushed many corrections systems into crisis. Officers are retiring and quitting in droves, while officials struggle to recruit new employees. And some prisons whose populations dropped during the pandemic have seen their numbers rise again, exacerbating the problem.

There is no one thing pushing prison employees out in high numbers now. Some are leaving for new opportunities as more places are hiring. University of Michigan economist Betsey Stevenson pointed to the increased risk of COVID-19 for people working in prisons.

“When jobs become riskier, it becomes harder to attract workers,” she wrote in an email. “By failing to protect prisoners from COVID, the criminal justice system not only created an unfair risk of severe illness and death for the incarcerated, but the increased COVID risk to employees has undoubtedly contributed to staffing shortages.”

Unions representing prison officers in states including Massachusetts and California and at the federal level also claim vaccine mandates will drive out unvaccinated employees and exacerbate understaffing, though it’s unclear how big of an impact those rules will have.

“There are dozens of reasons to leave and very few to stay,” said Brian Dawe, national director of One Voice United, a nonprofit supporting corrections officers. “Understaffing, poor pay, poor benefits, horrendous working conditions. … Officers and their families in many jurisdictions have had enough.”

Employers from construction companies to restaurants are having difficulty hiring and keeping people. Nearly 3% of American workers, 4.3 million, quit their jobs in August, according to new data from the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics.

But the stakes are higher in prisons, where having fewer guards means significantly more dangerous conditions for incarcerated people. And for the officers left behind, worsening shortages have made an already difficult job unbearable, many say.

In Georgia, some prisons report up to 70% vacancy rates. In Nebraska, overtime hours have quadrupled since 2010, as fewer officers are forced to work longer hours. Florida has temporarily closed three prisons out of more than 140 because of understaffing, and vacancy rates have nearly doubled there in the last year. And at federal prisons across the country, guards are picketing in front of their facilities over understaffing, while everyone from prison teachers to dentists is pulled in to cover security shifts. In recent weeks, reporters from The Marshall Project and The Associated Press have spoken with workers, officials, attorneys and people incarcerated in more than a dozen prison systems to understand the consequences of the staffing shortfalls.

The federal Bureau of Prisons says about 93% of its front-line guard positions are filled, with little more than 1,000 vacancies, though workers in many prisons say they’re feeling the pinch as others are conscripted to fill in for missing officers.

Asked last week in a U.S. Senate hearing about federal prison staffing, Attorney General Merrick Garland said, “I agree this is a serious problem at the Bureau of Prisons.”

Garland told the Senate Judiciary Committee that Deputy Attorney General Lisa Monaco was working with the bureau to address staffing issues.

Inside prisons, growing shortages mean a rise in lockdowns. Restrictions that might have begun as a way to stop the spread of COVID-19 have continued because there aren’t enough guards to supervise activities. Some incarcerated people say they can’t take classes, participate in group therapy sessions or even work out in the recreation yard or take a shower. That can force those in general population into de facto solitary confinement, and those already in segregation into near-total lockdown.

“If we get rec once a week, that’s a good week,” said Anthony Haynes, who is on Texas’ death row in a unit that is barely half-staffed. “We don’t always get showers.”

A spokesman for the Texas Department of Criminal Justice did not respond to Haynes’ claims but acknowledged that staffing is a challenge in Texas’ prisons.

“Before COVID-19, staffing was frequently impacted by economic surges and competing employment opportunities,” said spokesman Robert Hurst in an email. “The pandemic has exacerbated these issues. We also recognize that the job of the correctional officer is one of the most difficult in all of state government.” He added that Texas has closed six of its more than 100 facilities in the last year due to staffing problems.

Kansas has cut job training and reduced supervision for people after they’re released. Two-thirds of the men in Nebraska’s prisons can’t see visitors on the weekends — when most families are free to travel — because of understaffing.

Dr. Homer Venters, a former chief medical officer for the jail system in New York City, inspects conditions in prisons around the country for court cases. Understaffing will lead to an increase in preventable prison deaths, he said, as the quality of care reaches new lows.

“Things are much worse behind bars now than they have been for a long time,” Venters said. “There are so many staff that have left. That means that basic clinical services, like getting to scheduled appointments, just isn’t happening the way it was even five years ago.”

This story is a collaboration between The Associated Press and The Marshall Project exploring the state of the U.S. prison system in the coronavirus pandemic. Tom Meagher of The Marshall Project and Michael Balsamo of The Associated Press also contributed reporting.

KANSAS CITY (AP) —At a Georgia state House of Representatives hearing on prison conditions in September, a corrections officer called in to testify, interrupting his shift to tell lawmakers how dire conditions had become.On a “good day,” he told lawmakers, he had maybe six or seven officers to supervise roughly 1,200 people. He said he had recently been assigned to look after 400 prisoners by himself. There weren’t enough nurses to provide medical care.“All the officers … absolutely despise working there,” said the officer, who didn’t give his name for fear of retaliation.In Texas, Lance Lowry quit after 20 years as a corrections officer to become a long-haul trucker because he couldn’t bear the job any longer. Watching friends and coworkers die from COVID-19, along with dwindling support from his superiors, wore on him.“I would have liked to stay till I was 50,” said Lowry, 48. “But the pandemic changed that.”Staff shortages have long been a challenge for prison agencies, given the low pay and grueling nature of the work. But the coronavirus pandemic — and its impact on the labor market — has pushed many corrections systems into crisis. Officers are retiring and quitting in droves, while officials struggle to recruit new employees. And some prisons whose populations dropped during the pandemic have seen their numbers rise again, exacerbating the problem.There is no one thing pushing prison employees out in high numbers now. Some are leaving for new opportunities as more places are hiring. University of Michigan economist Betsey Stevenson pointed to the increased risk of COVID-19 for people working in prisons.“When jobs become riskier, it becomes harder to attract workers,” she wrote in an email. “By failing to protect prisoners from COVID, the criminal justice system not only created an unfair risk of severe illness and death for the incarcerated, but the increased COVID risk to employees has undoubtedly contributed to staffing shortages.”Unions representing prison officers in states including Massachusetts and California and at the federal level also claim vaccine mandates will drive out unvaccinated employees and exacerbate understaffing, though it’s unclear how big of an impact those rules will have.“There are dozens of reasons to leave and very few to stay,” said Brian Dawe, national director of One Voice United, a nonprofit supporting corrections officers. “Understaffing, poor pay, poor benefits, horrendous working conditions. … Officers and their families in many jurisdictions have had enough.”Employers from construction companies to restaurants are having difficulty hiring and keeping people. Nearly 3% of American workers, 4.3 million, quit their jobs in August, according to new data from the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics.But the stakes are higher in prisons, where having fewer guards means significantly more dangerous conditions for incarcerated people. And for the officers left behind, worsening shortages have made an already difficult job unbearable, many say.In Georgia, some prisons report up to 70% vacancy rates. In Nebraska, overtime hours have quadrupled since 2010, as fewer officers are forced to work longer hours. Florida has temporarily closed three prisons out of more than 140 because of understaffing, and vacancy rates have nearly doubled there in the last year. And at federal prisons across the country, guards are picketing in front of their facilities over understaffing, while everyone from prison teachers to dentists is pulled in to cover security shifts. In recent weeks, reporters from The Marshall Project and The Associated Press have spoken with workers, officials, attorneys and people incarcerated in more than a dozen prison systems to understand the consequences of the staffing shortfalls.The federal Bureau of Prisons says about 93% of its front-line guard positions are filled, with little more than 1,000 vacancies, though workers in many prisons say they’re feeling the pinch as others are conscripted to fill in for missing officers.Asked last week in a U.S. Senate hearing about federal prison staffing, Attorney General Merrick Garland said, “I agree this is a serious problem at the Bureau of Prisons.”Garland told the Senate Judiciary Committee that Deputy Attorney General Lisa Monaco was working with the bureau to address staffing issues.Inside prisons, growing shortages mean a rise in lockdowns. Restrictions that might have begun as a way to stop the spread of COVID-19 have continued because there aren’t enough guards to supervise activities. Some incarcerated people say they can’t take classes, participate in group therapy sessions or even work out in the recreation yard or take a shower. That can force those in general population into de facto solitary confinement, and those already in segregation into near-total lockdown.“If we get rec once a week, that’s a good week,” said Anthony Haynes, who is on Texas’ death row in a unit that is barely half-staffed. “We don’t always get showers.”A spokesman for the Texas Department of Criminal Justice did not respond to Haynes’ claims but acknowledged that staffing is a challenge in Texas’ prisons.“Before COVID-19, staffing was frequently impacted by economic surges and competing employment opportunities,” said spokesman Robert Hurst in an email. “The pandemic has exacerbated these issues. We also recognize that the job of the correctional officer is one of the most difficult in all of state government.” He added that Texas has closed six of its more than 100 facilities in the last year due to staffing problems.Kansas has cut job training and reduced supervision for people after they’re released. Two-thirds of the men in Nebraska’s prisons can’t see visitors on the weekends — when most families are free to travel — because of understaffing.Dr. Homer Venters, a former chief medical officer for the jail system in New York City, inspects conditions in prisons around the country for court cases. Understaffing will lead to an increase in preventable prison deaths, he said, as the quality of care reaches new lows.“Things are much worse behind bars now than they have been for a long time,” Venters said. “There are so many staff that have left. That means that basic clinical services, like getting to scheduled appointments, just isn’t happening the way it was even five years ago.”---This story is a collaboration between The Associated Press and The Marshall Project exploring the state of the U.S. prison system in the coronavirus pandemic. Tom Meagher of The Marshall Project and Michael Balsamo of The Associated Press also contributed reporting.___

US prisons face staff shortages as officers quit amid COVID

SEDGWICK COUNTY—A man accused of leaving the scene of a fatal crash and fire will make a court appearance Tuesday afternoon.&nbsp; An arraignment hearing is scheduled for 43-year-old Russell W. Polk, according to the Sedgwick County District Attorney's office.

Just after 11:30p.m. on March 31, 2020, 911 dispatch was notified about a vehicle on fire, at approximately 7500 W. 101st&nbsp;Street North, according to Sedgwick County Sheriff Jeff Easter.&nbsp;

Sheriff's deputies arrived along with the Sedgwick County Fire Department and observed a Dodge truck on its side fully engulfed in flames.&nbsp; After the fire was extinguished, first responders located the body of a woman in the pickup. She was pronounced deceased at the scene.&nbsp;

The preliminary investigation into the accident indicated the truck was originally southbound on Ridge Road. It entered the field on the west side of Ridge, struck the ditch on 101st&nbsp;Street North and the driver lost control. The truck rolled into the south ditch.&nbsp;

The following day, deputies arrested Polk and booked him in the Sedgwick County Adult Detention Facility for 2nd Degree Murder, according to Easter. Authorities believe Polk was driving at the time of the crash and that the victim was still alive when Polk fled the scene.&nbsp;

Polk remains jailed on a bond of $100,000, <a href="https://ssc.sedgwickcounty.org/sheriffinmates/SheriffInmateDetail.aspx?nameId=37055">according to online jail records.</a>&nbsp; He has numerous DUI and related driving convictions along with a conviction for criminal threat, according to the Kansas Department of Corrections.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2020/4/1585864808889.png" alt="Polk&nbsp; has numerous DUI and related driving convictions along with a conviction for criminal threat, according to the Kansas Department of Corrections.-photo Sedgwick County" />
 <figcaption>Polk&nbsp; has numerous DUI and related driving convictions along with a conviction for criminal threat, according to the Kansas Department of Corrections.-photo Sedgwick County</figcaption>
 </figure>SEDGWICK COUNTY—A man accused of leaving the scene of a fatal crash and fire will make a court appearance Tuesday afternoon.&nbsp; An arraignment hearing is scheduled for 43-year-old Russell W. Polk, according to the Sedgwick County District Attorney's office.Just after 11:30p.m. on March 31, 2020, 911 dispatch was notified about a vehicle on fire, at approximately 7500 W. 101st&nbsp;Street North, according to Sedgwick County Sheriff Jeff Easter.&nbsp;Sheriff's deputies arrived along with the Sedgwick County Fire Department and observed a Dodge truck on its side fully engulfed in flames.&nbsp; After the fire was extinguished, first responders located the body of a woman in the pickup. She was pronounced deceased at the scene.&nbsp;The preliminary investigation into the accident indicated the truck was originally southbound on Ridge Road. It entered the field on the west side of Ridge, struck the ditch on 101st&nbsp;Street North and the driver lost control. The truck rolled into the south ditch.&nbsp;The following day, deputies arrested Polk and booked him in the Sedgwick County Adult Detention Facility for 2nd Degree Murder, according to Easter. Authorities believe Polk was driving at the time of the crash and that the victim was still alive when Polk fled the scene.&nbsp;Polk remains jailed on a bond of $100,000, <a href="https://ssc.sedgwickcounty.org/sheriffinmates/SheriffInmateDetail.aspx?nameId=37055">according to online jail records.</a>&nbsp; He has numerous DUI and related driving convictions along with a conviction for criminal threat, according to the Kansas Department of Corrections.

Kan. man who fled fatal crash, fire set for arraignment hearing

WICHITA, Kan. (AP) — Police say one man has died and another person was critically wounded in a shooting in north Wichita. Police say the shooting happened just before 5:30 p.m. Monday in an area several blocks east of the Little Arkansas River. 

Arriving officers entered an apartment, where they found a 20-year-old man with a gunshot wound who was not breathing. He was taken to a local hospital and pronounced dead. 

A short time later, another person with a gunshot wound showed up at the hospital in a private vehicle. Police say that person was in critical but stable condition and believe they were a victim of the same shooting.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/11/1635868894294.png" alt="Police on the scene of the investigation Monday -photo courtesy KWCH" />
 <figcaption>Police on the scene of the investigation Monday -photo courtesy KWCH</figcaption>
 </figure>WICHITA, Kan. (AP) — Police say one man has died and another person was critically wounded in a shooting in north Wichita. Police say the shooting happened just before 5:30 p.m. Monday in an area several blocks east of the Little Arkansas River. Arriving officers entered an apartment, where they found a 20-year-old man with a gunshot wound who was not breathing. He was taken to a local hospital and pronounced dead. A short time later, another person with a gunshot wound showed up at the hospital in a private vehicle. Police say that person was in critical but stable condition and believe they were a victim of the same shooting.

1 killed, another critically wounded in Kansas shooting

WASHINGTON (AP) — As deadlines loom for military and defense civilians to get mandated COVID-19 vaccines, senior leaders must now wrestle with the fate of those who flatly refuse the shots or are seeking exemptions, and <a href="https://www.defense.gov/News/News-Stories/Article/Article/2828791/with-vaccination-deadlines-approaching-commanders-asked-to-use-compassion-in-en/">how to make sure they are treated fairly and equally.</a>

The vast majority of the active duty force has received at least one shot, but tens of thousands have not. For some it may be a career-ending decision. Others could face transfers, travel restrictions, limits on deployments and requirements to repay bonuses.

Exemption decisions for medical, religious and administrative reasons will be made by unit commanders around the world, on what the Pentagon says will be a “case-by-case” basis. That raises a vexing issue for military leaders who are pushing a vaccine mandate seen as critical to maintaining a healthy force, but want to avoid a haphazard, inconsistent approach with those who refuse.

Brig. Gen. Darrin Cox, surgeon general at Army Forces Command, said commanders want to ensure they are following the rules.

“Because of some of the sensitivities of this particular vaccine, I think that we just wanted to ensure that we were consistent and equitable” in meting out a punishment that would be “a repercussion of continuing to refuse a valid order.”

Military vaccination rates are higher than those of the general population in the United States and the reasons for objecting – often based on misinformation – are similar to those heard throughout the country. But unlike most civilians, military personnel are routinely required to get as many as 17 vaccines, and face penalties for refusing.

The military services are reporting between 1%-7% remain unvaccinated. Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin has called for compassion in dealings with those troops, which totals nearly 60,000 active duty service members, according to data released last week. Officials say the numbers change daily, and include those who may have gotten or requested an exemption. They have declined to say how many troops are still seeking an exemption or refused the vaccine.

Asked about possible variations in the treatment of those seeking exemptions or refusing the vaccine, Pentagon press secretary John Kirby said it’s up to the services. “Each case is going to be treated specifically and individually as it ought to be,” he said.

It unclear how widely religious exemptions will be granted. Under military rules, commanders can take into account the potential impact on a unit’s mission, and reject a religious exemption if it puts performance at risk.

Commanders can also move service members into another job, deny them overseas deployment or limit unit access if they get an exemption or while a request is being reviewed. Those steps may be more common in smaller units such a special operations forces who usually deploy in small numbers.

The Navy has warned that sailors who refuse the shot and don’t get an exemption may have to refund bonuses and other financial payments, based on existing military justice procedures for disobeying a lawful order. The other services are expected to follow similar procedures.

Unvaccinated troops will also be subject to routine testing, distancing guidelines and possibly travel restrictions.

The Air Force may be the test case in some instances, because they are the first to hit a deadline. The more than 335,000 airmen and Space Force guardians must be fully vaccinated by Tuesday, and the Air Guard and Reserve by Dec. 2. According to Air Force data, as many as 12,000 active duty airmen and guardians were still unvaccinated as of late last week. Some have requested or gotten exemptions, others have refused outright. They have until Monday to request exemptions.

Air Force Col. Robert Corby, commander of the 28th Medical Group at Ellsworth Air Force Base, said that after the vaccine became mandatory in late August, appointments for shots at the base clinic doubled. He said troops have an array of questions and concerns, and commanders, chaplains and medical personnel are providing information.

“I think you also have a segment of the population that probably does not feel that they are really at risk for COVID-19,” he added.

Air Force Capt. Molly Lawlor, 28th Bomb Wing chaplain, said a “very small percentage” are seeking a religious exemption at the base. “People are just trying to figure out how this new requirement fits into their belief system and the decisions that they want to make,” she said.

The more than 765,000 Defense Department civilians will be close behind the Air Force, with a mandated vaccine date of Nov. 22. Supervisors are grappling with the complex task of checking and recording the vaccine status of their workers, and determining who will be the final exemption arbiter.

Civilians have until Nov. 8 to seek an exemption, and as of last week, fewer than half had provided vaccination proof. Those who refuse the vaccine and don’t get an exemption will get five days for counseling. If they still refuse, they will be suspended for up to 14 days without pay, and could then be fired.

Vaccination numbers fluctuate for the military services, and drop off considerably for the National Guard and Reserve.

A bit more than half of the Army National Guard has gotten at least one shot, while the Air Guard is at 87%. Air Guard members must be fully vaccinated by early December, while the Army Guard, which is much larger and more widely scattered around the country, has until June,.

The most successful service has been the Navy, which says that only 1% of the force is unvaccinated as of last week — or about 3,500 sailors. The Air Force and Space Force was second, with 3.6% unvaccinated, followed by the Army and Marine Corps at about 7%.

Adm. Michael Gilday, chief of naval operations, told The Associated Press that even before the shots were mandated, some warships were seeing vaccination rates of 98%-99%.

“We feel like we’ve been leading the way across the services,” he said. “We’ve been promoting the vaccines since we started vaccinating last December, January timeframe.” For those who don’t want the vaccine, “we’ll deal with those on an individual basis as those challenges come up,” he said.

Marine Col. Speros Koumparakis, commander of Marine Corps Base Hawaii, said that the number of Marines who have requested exemptions at the base is fewer than two dozen, and most of those are seeking religious exemptions.

He said chaplains and pastors have been made available to discuss the religious issues, and he does the initial review of any request. But ultimately, decisions may be made by personnel leaders at Marine Corps Base Quantico in Virginia.

The nearly 350,000 Navy sailors and more than 179,000 Marines must be fully vaccinated by Nov. 28, and the reserves by Dec. 28. The Army, the military’s largest service at nearly 490,000, has given active duty soldiers until Dec. 15 to be fully vaccinated. Army National Guard and Reserve have until June 30, 2022. There are a total of almost 800,000 Guard and Reserve troops, with the Army accounting for more than 520,000 of them.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/11/1635861962000.png" alt="Photo U.S. Department of Defense" />
 <figcaption>Photo U.S. Department of Defense</figcaption>
 </figure>WASHINGTON (AP) — As deadlines loom for military and defense civilians to get mandated COVID-19 vaccines, senior leaders must now wrestle with the fate of those who flatly refuse the shots or are seeking exemptions, and <a href="https://www.defense.gov/News/News-Stories/Article/Article/2828791/with-vaccination-deadlines-approaching-commanders-asked-to-use-compassion-in-en/">how to make sure they are treated fairly and equally.</a>The vast majority of the active duty force has received at least one shot, but tens of thousands have not. For some it may be a career-ending decision. Others could face transfers, travel restrictions, limits on deployments and requirements to repay bonuses.Exemption decisions for medical, religious and administrative reasons will be made by unit commanders around the world, on what the Pentagon says will be a “case-by-case” basis. That raises a vexing issue for military leaders who are pushing a vaccine mandate seen as critical to maintaining a healthy force, but want to avoid a haphazard, inconsistent approach with those who refuse.Brig. Gen. Darrin Cox, surgeon general at Army Forces Command, said commanders want to ensure they are following the rules.“Because of some of the sensitivities of this particular vaccine, I think that we just wanted to ensure that we were consistent and equitable” in meting out a punishment that would be “a repercussion of continuing to refuse a valid order.”Military vaccination rates are higher than those of the general population in the United States and the reasons for objecting – often based on misinformation – are similar to those heard throughout the country. But unlike most civilians, military personnel are routinely required to get as many as 17 vaccines, and face penalties for refusing.The military services are reporting between 1%-7% remain unvaccinated. Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin has called for compassion in dealings with those troops, which totals nearly 60,000 active duty service members, according to data released last week. Officials say the numbers change daily, and include those who may have gotten or requested an exemption. They have declined to say how many troops are still seeking an exemption or refused the vaccine.Asked about possible variations in the treatment of those seeking exemptions or refusing the vaccine, Pentagon press secretary John Kirby said it’s up to the services. “Each case is going to be treated specifically and individually as it ought to be,” he said.It unclear how widely religious exemptions will be granted. Under military rules, commanders can take into account the potential impact on a unit’s mission, and reject a religious exemption if it puts performance at risk.Commanders can also move service members into another job, deny them overseas deployment or limit unit access if they get an exemption or while a request is being reviewed. Those steps may be more common in smaller units such a special operations forces who usually deploy in small numbers.The Navy has warned that sailors who refuse the shot and don’t get an exemption may have to refund bonuses and other financial payments, based on existing military justice procedures for disobeying a lawful order. The other services are expected to follow similar procedures.Unvaccinated troops will also be subject to routine testing, distancing guidelines and possibly travel restrictions.The Air Force may be the test case in some instances, because they are the first to hit a deadline. The more than 335,000 airmen and Space Force guardians must be fully vaccinated by Tuesday, and the Air Guard and Reserve by Dec. 2. According to Air Force data, as many as 12,000 active duty airmen and guardians were still unvaccinated as of late last week. Some have requested or gotten exemptions, others have refused outright. They have until Monday to request exemptions.Air Force Col. Robert Corby, commander of the 28th Medical Group at Ellsworth Air Force Base, said that after the vaccine became mandatory in late August, appointments for shots at the base clinic doubled. He said troops have an array of questions and concerns, and commanders, chaplains and medical personnel are providing information.“I think you also have a segment of the population that probably does not feel that they are really at risk for COVID-19,” he added.Air Force Capt. Molly Lawlor, 28th Bomb Wing chaplain, said a “very small percentage” are seeking a religious exemption at the base. “People are just trying to figure out how this new requirement fits into their belief system and the decisions that they want to make,” she said.The more than 765,000 Defense Department civilians will be close behind the Air Force, with a mandated vaccine date of Nov. 22. Supervisors are grappling with the complex task of checking and recording the vaccine status of their workers, and determining who will be the final exemption arbiter.Civilians have until Nov. 8 to seek an exemption, and as of last week, fewer than half had provided vaccination proof. Those who refuse the vaccine and don’t get an exemption will get five days for counseling. If they still refuse, they will be suspended for up to 14 days without pay, and could then be fired.Vaccination numbers fluctuate for the military services, and drop off considerably for the National Guard and Reserve.A bit more than half of the Army National Guard has gotten at least one shot, while the Air Guard is at 87%. Air Guard members must be fully vaccinated by early December, while the Army Guard, which is much larger and more widely scattered around the country, has until June,.The most successful service has been the Navy, which says that only 1% of the force is unvaccinated as of last week — or about 3,500 sailors. The Air Force and Space Force was second, with 3.6% unvaccinated, followed by the Army and Marine Corps at about 7%.Adm. Michael Gilday, chief of naval operations, told The Associated Press that even before the shots were mandated, some warships were seeing vaccination rates of 98%-99%.“We feel like we’ve been leading the way across the services,” he said. “We’ve been promoting the vaccines since we started vaccinating last December, January timeframe.” For those who don’t want the vaccine, “we’ll deal with those on an individual basis as those challenges come up,” he said.Marine Col. Speros Koumparakis, commander of Marine Corps Base Hawaii, said that the number of Marines who have requested exemptions at the base is fewer than two dozen, and most of those are seeking religious exemptions.He said chaplains and pastors have been made available to discuss the religious issues, and he does the initial review of any request. But ultimately, decisions may be made by personnel leaders at Marine Corps Base Quantico in Virginia.The nearly 350,000 Navy sailors and more than 179,000 Marines must be fully vaccinated by Nov. 28, and the reserves by Dec. 28. The Army, the military’s largest service at nearly 490,000, has given active duty soldiers until Dec. 15 to be fully vaccinated. Army National Guard and Reserve have until June 30, 2022. There are a total of almost 800,000 Guard and Reserve troops, with the Army accounting for more than 520,000 of them.

Military weighs penalties for those who refuse COVID vaccine

FRANKLIN COUNTY —The Kansas Highway Patrol is seeking assistance to identify witnesses to a hit-and-run fatality crash that occurred around 9 p.m. on Friday, October 29 on southbound I-35 just north of Tennessee Road in Franklin County.&nbsp;

According to the KHP, a Jeep and a Dodge Ram were southbound and involved in a road rage incident. The driver of the Dodge began tailgating the Jeep. The Dodge would speed up, get beside the Jeep then slow down to get behind the Jeep.

The Dodge changed lanes in front of the Jeep and came to a stop in the right lane near the Tennessee Road exit.

The driver of the Dodge later identified as 54-year-old Lori Anne Maxwell, of Gloversville, New York, exited the vehicle and began walking to the driver side window of the jeep while shouting. 

According to occupants of the Jeep and witnesses, an unknown Commercial Motor Vehicle struck the rear driver side quarter panel of the Jeep and Maxwell while she was standing at the window of the Jeep.

The Commercial Motor Vehicle continued south. An independent witness indicated the CMV had a blue bull rack cattle trailer. Anyone with information on the fatal crash is asked to contact the Kansas Highway Patrol.

FRANKLIN COUNTY —The Kansas Highway Patrol is seeking assistance to identify witnesses to a hit-and-run fatality crash that occurred around 9 p.m. on Friday, October 29 on southbound I-35 just north of Tennessee Road in Franklin County.&nbsp;According to the KHP, a Jeep and a Dodge Ram were southbound and involved in a road rage incident. The driver of the Dodge began tailgating the Jeep. The Dodge would speed up, get beside the Jeep then slow down to get behind the Jeep.The Dodge changed lanes in front of the Jeep and came to a stop in the right lane near the Tennessee Road exit.The driver of the Dodge later identified as 54-year-old Lori Anne Maxwell, of Gloversville, New York, exited the vehicle and began walking to the driver side window of the jeep while shouting. According to occupants of the Jeep and witnesses, an unknown Commercial Motor Vehicle struck the rear driver side quarter panel of the Jeep and Maxwell while she was standing at the window of the Jeep.The Commercial Motor Vehicle continued south. An independent witness indicated the CMV had a blue bull rack cattle trailer. Anyone with information on the fatal crash is asked to contact the Kansas Highway Patrol.

KHP asks for help to ID vehicle in fatal hit-and-run

MISSION, Kan. (AP) — School board races, once sleepy and localized, have become&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/health-education-coronavirus-pandemic-school-boards-e41350b7d9e3662d279c2dad287f7009">the new front in a culture war</a>&nbsp;raging across the nation as resentments over COVID-19 restrictions and&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/lifestyle-elections-education-race-and-ethnicity-racial-injustice-f3e0a8198edae71980f942f2eb5ea172">anti-racism curriculum</a>&nbsp;reach a boiling point.

On Tuesday, voters weigh in on dozens of races that have been dominated by debates over masks, vaccines, race and history. The outcomes will decide not just districts’ policies but also whether the education fight has staying power as part of the national discourse and becomes a rallying issue for Republicans in the 2022 midterms.

Conservatives have eagerly taken up the cause as they look to move past&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/hub/coronavirus-pandemic">the coronavirus pandemic</a>&nbsp;and to reframe the discussion on&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/hub/racial-injustice">racial injustice in America</a>&nbsp;as a rewriting of history.

The political tracking website Ballotpedia has identified 76 school districts in 22 states where candidates took a stance on race in education or critical race theory, which holds that racism is systemic in America’s institutions and which the National School Boards Association says is not taught in K-12 public schools.

1776 Action, a group inspired by&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/race-and-ethnicity-media-slavery-cultures-donald-trump-afdfa0b3454d5a7fdf544158ee1f5e1f">former President Donald Trump’s now-disbanded 1776 Commission</a>&nbsp;that played down America’s role in slavery, has been urging candidates to sign a pledge calling for the restoration of “honest, patriotic education.” At least 300 candidates and elected officials have done so, said Adam Waldeck, the group’s president.

“2021 is really going to sort of be seen as kind of a canary in the coal mine of what’s coming down the pike next year and into the future,” Waldeck said. “This will be the year that I think primarily parents stand up and say, ‘You know, we have a voice, too.’ And I think it’s going to be overwhelming.”

Board meetings have grown so contentious that they are being mocked in “Saturday Night Live” skits. Some board members have been called Nazis and child abusers. The National School Boards Association even&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/coronavirus-pandemic-joe-biden-health-education-school-boards-940da42fac771366929fc2150c8acf4d">likened some of what is happening to “domestic terrorism”</a>&nbsp;before apologizing.

Randi Weingarten, president of the American Federation of Teachers, accused the right wing of orchestrating protests to “turn schools into battlegrounds with the goal of winning elections by politicizing both public health and history.” She noted&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/joe-biden-donald-trump-campaigns-virginia-election-2020-a84bf1d7f2113c77197bca103fd0e81b">the Virginia governor’s race</a>, in which Republican newcomer Glenn Youngkin has seized on conservatives’ frustrations with schools over pandemic policies and diversity education.

Even&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/elections-race-and-ethnicity-racial-injustice-michael-pence-virginia-a5100eb9c96250d914e8091d7bc51592">former Vice President Mike Pence</a>&nbsp;has gotten into the game, taking a moment during a campaign rally in Ohio on Saturday to urge voters to support conservative school board candidates in Tuesday’s election.

Waldeck said his group also sent out mailers and targeted text messages in races in Johnston, Iowa, where three candidates have signed the pledge, and in West Chester, Pennsylvania, where law enforcement was called to investigate threats against school board president Chris McCune.

The backlash stems from his ordering the removal from a July meeting of a parent who kept demanding information about critical race theory after her two-minute time limit had ended. McCune, who is on the ballot, wrote in a letter to the Daily Local News newspaper in Pennsylvania that it is his duty to “maintain order” and insisted that the district doesn’t even teach critical race theory.

“National and local political forces continue to urge residents to rally against local school boards and CRT, even when board members and administrators have offered to meet to share the district’s curriculum to demonstrate that it is simply not what we teach,” he said.

The 1776 Project PAC, which is separate from 1776 Action and headed by New York political operative and author Ryan Girdusky, has invested in races across the country. It raised $289,544 in the third quarter, according to the latest report filed with the Federal Election Commission.

“I think anybody that’s running was probably to a degree tipped over by COVID,” said Jim McMullen, who is among three candidates the group is backing in the Blue Valley district in suburban Kansas City. The former English teacher and father of five had considered running before the pandemic but finally decided to mount a bid after the district went virtual and hybrid for parts of last year.

In Colorado, Schumé Navarro, who is running for the Cherry Creek School District, went to court last month to win the right to go without a face covering at a district candidate event. The mother of five said she’s unable to wear a mask because of abuse she suffered as a child.

“The environment and the culture that it’s creating is just stealing from our kids,” she said of masks.

In Ohio, former state Republican chair Jane Timken has taken time from her campaign for the U.S. Senate to offer guidance and funding totaling more than $40,000 to more than 40 conservative candidates in hyperlocal school board races.

<figure>
 <img src="https://media.eaglewebservices.com/public/2021/11/1635857227869.png" alt="Preparing to receive voters -photo courtesy Johnson County election office" />
 <figcaption>Preparing to receive voters -photo courtesy Johnson County election office</figcaption>
 </figure>MISSION, Kan. (AP) — School board races, once sleepy and localized, have become&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/health-education-coronavirus-pandemic-school-boards-e41350b7d9e3662d279c2dad287f7009">the new front in a culture war</a>&nbsp;raging across the nation as resentments over COVID-19 restrictions and&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/lifestyle-elections-education-race-and-ethnicity-racial-injustice-f3e0a8198edae71980f942f2eb5ea172">anti-racism curriculum</a>&nbsp;reach a boiling point.<div><blockquote class="twitter-tweet">At gatherings across the country, I’ve talked with Americans who agree we’ve learned the hard way that who sits on our local boards impacts our lives. Get out &amp; vote in your local elections. And, in Andover, KS—vote for <a href="https://twitter.com/jawellstrio?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">@jawellstrio</a>! (2/2)&mdash; Mike Pompeo (@mikepompeo) <a href="https://twitter.com/mikepompeo/status/1453785146872696844?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw">October 28, 2021</a></blockquote> <script async src="https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script></div>On Tuesday, voters weigh in on dozens of races that have been dominated by debates over masks, vaccines, race and history. The outcomes will decide not just districts’ policies but also whether the education fight has staying power as part of the national discourse and becomes a rallying issue for Republicans in the 2022 midterms.Conservatives have eagerly taken up the cause as they look to move past&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/hub/coronavirus-pandemic">the coronavirus pandemic</a>&nbsp;and to reframe the discussion on&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/hub/racial-injustice">racial injustice in America</a>&nbsp;as a rewriting of history.The political tracking website Ballotpedia has identified 76 school districts in 22 states where candidates took a stance on race in education or critical race theory, which holds that racism is systemic in America’s institutions and which the National School Boards Association says is not taught in K-12 public schools.1776 Action, a group inspired by&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/race-and-ethnicity-media-slavery-cultures-donald-trump-afdfa0b3454d5a7fdf544158ee1f5e1f">former President Donald Trump’s now-disbanded 1776 Commission</a>&nbsp;that played down America’s role in slavery, has been urging candidates to sign a pledge calling for the restoration of “honest, patriotic education.” At least 300 candidates and elected officials have done so, said Adam Waldeck, the group’s president.“2021 is really going to sort of be seen as kind of a canary in the coal mine of what’s coming down the pike next year and into the future,” Waldeck said. “This will be the year that I think primarily parents stand up and say, ‘You know, we have a voice, too.’ And I think it’s going to be overwhelming.”Board meetings have grown so contentious that they are being mocked in “Saturday Night Live” skits. Some board members have been called Nazis and child abusers. The National School Boards Association even&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/coronavirus-pandemic-joe-biden-health-education-school-boards-940da42fac771366929fc2150c8acf4d">likened some of what is happening to “domestic terrorism”</a>&nbsp;before apologizing.Randi Weingarten, president of the American Federation of Teachers, accused the right wing of orchestrating protests to “turn schools into battlegrounds with the goal of winning elections by politicizing both public health and history.” She noted&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/joe-biden-donald-trump-campaigns-virginia-election-2020-a84bf1d7f2113c77197bca103fd0e81b">the Virginia governor’s race</a>, in which Republican newcomer Glenn Youngkin has seized on conservatives’ frustrations with schools over pandemic policies and diversity education.Even&nbsp;<a href="https://apnews.com/article/elections-race-and-ethnicity-racial-injustice-michael-pence-virginia-a5100eb9c96250d914e8091d7bc51592">former Vice President Mike Pence</a>&nbsp;has gotten into the game, taking a moment during a campaign rally in Ohio on Saturday to urge voters to support conservative school board candidates in Tuesday’s election.Waldeck said his group also sent out mailers and targeted text messages in races in Johnston, Iowa, where three candidates have signed the pledge, and in West Chester, Pennsylvania, where law enforcement was called to investigate threats against school board president Chris McCune.The backlash stems from his ordering the removal from a July meeting of a parent who kept demanding information about critical race theory after her two-minute time limit had ended. McCune, who is on the ballot, wrote in a letter to the Daily Local News newspaper in Pennsylvania that it is his duty to “maintain order” and insisted that the district doesn’t even teach critical race theory.“National and local political forces continue to urge residents to rally against local school boards and CRT, even when board members and administrators have offered to meet to share the district’s curriculum to demonstrate that it is simply not what we teach,” he said.The 1776 Project PAC, which is separate from 1776 Action and headed by New York political operative and author Ryan Girdusky, has invested in races across the country. It raised $289,544 in the third quarter, according to the latest report filed with the Federal Election Commission.“I think anybody that’s running was probably to a degree tipped over by COVID,” said Jim McMullen, who is among three candidates the group is backing in the Blue Valley district in suburban Kansas City. The former English teacher and father of five had considered running before the pandemic but finally decided to mount a bid after the district went virtual and hybrid for parts of last year.In Colorado, Schumé Navarro, who is running for the Cherry Creek School District, went to court last month to win the right to go without a face covering at a district candidate event. The mother of five said she’s unable to wear a mask because of abuse she suffered as a child.“The environment and the culture that it’s creating is just stealing from our kids,” she said of masks.In Ohio, former state Republican chair Jane Timken has taken time from her campaign for the U.S. Senate to offer guidance and funding totaling more than $40,000 to more than 40 conservative candidates in hyperlocal school board races.“We are helping them not just financially, but my team is knocking doors and making calls with them,” said Timken, who said she completed a critical race theory “listening tour” that exposed cases of children being “indoctrinated with leftist policies.”In Wisconsin, voters in Mequon will decide whether to replace the majority of the Mequon-Thiensville school board. Amber Schroeder, an organizer of the Recall MTSD movement, said that along with slipping academic performance, parents are most concerned with critical race theory, which she sees as evident in the district’s emphasis on equity.“It’s huge here,” Schroeder said, noting the district’s hiring of diversity consultants. “It’s already infiltrated our curriculum.”In Minnesota, Erin Shelton has joined two other conservative candidates on a “Vote for Three!” platform that denounces “harmful ideologies like CRT,” political indoctrination and “controversial medical mandates.” If all three are elected, they would hold an ideological majority on the board in Wayzata.“I don’t believe that the way to academic excellence involves making any group of students feel like victims or any other feel responsible for that victimization,” Shelton said via email.In Iowa, masking opponent Sarah Barthole received a high-profile endorsement from Republican Gov. Kim Reynolds as she runs for the school board of the Ankeny school district in suburban Des Moines. Barthole worked with Reynolds last year to reopen schools and is credited with inspiring the state’s now-blocked law prohibiting mask mandates in schools.“The level of involvement in her campaign, I’ve never seen anything like it in a school board race before,” said Barthole’s treasurer, Steve Boal, whose own wife served on the board more than two decades ago. “Usually it’s kind of a pretty low-key thing.”The governor’s backing in that race is just the beginning, predicted Tina Descovich, a co-founder of Moms for Liberty, a Melbourne, Florida-based group, whose 142 chapters in 35 states have fought vaccine and mask mandates.“Our governor here in Florida has all but said he’s going to be involved in school board races,” said Descovich, who is a former member of the Brevard County School Board in Florida. “I’m curious to see what that looks like for 2022.”___