Dr. Amy Acton, the Democrat running for Ohio governor, is doubling down on her role in shuttering schools during the COVID-19 crisis.
Her defense, aired on The Hill’s “Rising,” has reignited a firestorm of debate over whether saving lives trumped the undeniable harm to students. Let’s unpack this with a clear eye on the facts and a healthy dose of skepticism toward lockdown nostalgia.
The Daily Caller reported that Acton, who served as Ohio’s public health director, advised Republican Gov. Mike DeWine to close schools in early 2020, a move that made Ohio the first state to pull the plug on in-person learning.
Back in March 2020, DeWine, with Acton’s guidance, issued the initial shutdown order, extending it multiple times through June of that year. Schools didn’t reopen until the fall, as announced by DeWine in early June. This timeline shows a state grappling with an unprecedented crisis, but at what cost to kids?
Acton’s tenure as health director wasn’t without drama—she stepped down amid fierce backlash, including legal challenges and protests outside her home.
Lawmakers even tried to curb her authority, a sign that not everyone was on board with her heavy-handed approach. While one can sympathize with facing such pressure, it’s hard to ignore the public’s frustration with policies that upended daily life.
In her recent interview, Acton stood firm, saying, “I’m very proud of the leadership of Ohio.” Proud? Many parents still seethe over lost learning and the social toll on children, questioning if pride is the right word when 2025 research shows the deep scars of school closures.
She also pushed back on critics, asserting, “We actually reopened earlier in Ohio because we took decisive action.” Earlier than whom, exactly? With at least 12 states managing to keep classrooms open during the pandemic, her claim feels like a stretch, especially when data now highlights the damage done to students’ education and mental health.
Acton insisted, “No, actually, what we were following was the pandemic playbook.” A playbook is fine, but shouldn’t it adapt to real-time evidence? Blind adherence to protocol over common-sense adjustments raises eyebrows among those who value flexibility over bureaucracy.
She further explained the early chaos, noting that school staff like bus drivers and teachers were at high risk. “We couldn’t keep anything open because it was collapsing of its own,” she said. Fair enough for the first weeks, but extending closures for months while others found safer ways to operate feels like a missed opportunity.
“Our focus was actually on how to keep kids learning,” Acton claimed in the interview. Admirable in theory, but virtual learning was a poor substitute for most students, leaving many parents and educators scrambling. The “impressive effort” she touts often felt more like a frustrating patchwork of half-measures to those on the ground.
Critics haven’t let up, with Republican candidate Vivek Ramaswamy slamming Acton as a figure akin to national lockdown champions. While his jab stings, it reflects a broader conservative concern that public health mandates overreached, prioritizing control over balanced solutions. Acton’s dismissal of such critiques as mere noise doesn’t address the legitimate grievances of families still recovering.
Interviewer Amber Duke pressed hard, asking, “Did you make a mistake by closing schools?” It’s a question many Ohioans still wrestle with, especially as studies in 2025 underscore the long-term harm to children. Acton’s refusal to admit any misstep might strike some as tone-deaf, even if her intent was to protect lives.
Acton countered, “In those early days, it was, I believe, the right decision we made.” Belief is one thing, but results are another—conservative voices argue that protecting vulnerable staff didn’t have to mean blanket closures for all. A more targeted approach might have spared students the worst of the fallout.
Beyond the pandemic, Acton’s recent social media post on July 2, 2025, signals her ongoing fight for public education, decrying state budget cuts as a “travesty.”
It’s a noble stance, but skeptics might wonder if her past decisions align with truly prioritizing schools. Can someone who championed closures now claim to be education’s biggest defender?
Her promise to “stand up” to these budget issues as governor shows ambition, but trust remains shaky among those burned by her prior policies. Conservatives, especially, will demand proof that her leadership won’t repeat the overreach of 2020. The road to rebuilding faith in her commitment to students is steep.