On 11 March, the World Health Organisation (WHO) declared a pandemic. Covid-19 had tightened its grip on countries across the world and, by Friday 13 March, large gatherings were being cancelled, businesses were advising staff to work from home, “social distancing” was suddenly a phrase on everyone’s lips, and schools around Europe were being closed .

In England, headteachers watched all this unfold and tried to figure out what they should be doing. The government was maintaining that they should keep the schools open, but school leaders feared for their staff, their pupils and for their communities. They wanted their school to be a force for good, and they appreciated that decisions were being guided by the best scientific advice, but they also wanted to make sure that everyone was safe.

Heads battled through the uncertainty until, eventually, on the evening of Wednesday 18 March, confirmation came: schools across the country would be closed indefinitely from that Friday, except for children deemed vulnerable and those of key workers.

That last bit rocked the sector: it meant that heads, already shaken by the weeks of build-up to closure, now had to work out which pupils were eligible, which teachers and support workers could come in and staff the schools, and what to do with them all. Extensive plans had been made for those children out of school, but this “partial” closure was a surprise to most.

What did it feel like to run a school in those weeks of high pressure and stress, of impossible choices, of crippling fear?

We spoke with four heads from different school sectors across the country to ask them how they coped during that unprecedented, difficult time.

Zofia Niemtus is sponsored content editor at Tes

How schools coped with coronavirus closures

The secondary headteacher: ‘I sobbed like a baby’

Vic Goddard is principal of Passmores Academy in Harlow, Essex

I’ve got friends around the world, including in China and the Middle East, so I could see the way the Covid-19 virus had gone with them, and I knew it was inevitable that it would be an issue here.

The anxiety in the school in those first few weeks when the virus began to spread from China built steadily as calls to close schools increased. It was fear not just about physical health but about emotional health as well. You could see people dragging themselves into work who shouldn’t have been, and you could see the anxiety in the kids ramping up.

We just needed an answer.

I employ 300 people, so that’s a lot of families. If they’ve all got three people in their house, that’s a lot of people affected. It took the harsh reality of realising my own 85-year-old mum was vulnerable to make me think it was time to make a decision.

On the Tuesday of the week when the government finally decided to close schools, I spoke to the chair of the trust and said I thought closing was the right thing to do for the school community. I didn’t realise quite how much it was weighing on me, whether to stay open, until I made the decision.

That meant we were a little bit ahead of the game with regards to having plans in place. We’d made the decision to close about 24 hours before the government and already had plans to open for [children of] key workers and delivery drivers.

I thought I was coping with it all. Then, on the Thursday, I had assembly with my Year 11s. I had to look them in the eyes and it killed me.

It’s not about the GCSEs. It’s the shared experiences that form who you are as a human being: the battle of revision when it’s sunny outside and everybody else is still in school - and you do that as a group of mates and support each other; your prom; your leavers’ day; getting your shirt signed; all those little things that are rites of passage historically in this country, being taken away from this generation through no fault of their own (and no fault of anybody).

I held it together through my assembly then went and sobbed like a baby on my co-principal’s shoulder. Then the assistant head, who oversees the celebration day for Year 11, said: ‘I can pull this together tomorrow if you want us to.’

So we tried to get as close to a leavers’ day as possible for the Year 11s on the Friday. They came in their own clothes. We had the head boy and girl doing speeches, and we had video montages of them from Year 7 until now. I was an absolute mess most of the day, if I’m honest. I got some lovely cards, some of which I still haven’t read because I won’t be able to cope.

It was a little bit harder than usual because there was that sense of loss there. Usually by the end of the summer exam season, you’ve had enough of them, but because we haven’t had that painful bit, it was just sad to see them go.

The biggest thing for me in all of this has been the lack of communication from the government. We needed clarity and we needed it early. We were asked to make decisions about which of our staff we were going to leave open to catching a life-threatening virus, and we had no advice on that. We were all thinking about the headteacher who passed away in Cumbria. We were thinking about our staff who were vulnerable.

There is information from around the world about the best - or the least bad - way of doing this, and that was never shared with us. I’ve struggled to trust the government for years after the lies they’ve told about funding, but I now trust them even less. I will do all I can for my community during this process, but I don’t know if I want to work for these people anymore.

They’ve left me and my family - that’s blood family and my school family - vulnerable and ill-informed.

The alternative-provision headteacher: ‘We tried to keep calm, but I was questioning myself repeatedly’

Leanne Forde-Nassey is headteacher at The Key Education Centre, an alternative-provision setting in Hampshire

I don’t think I really thought the coronavirus would have an impact on our school until we heard of it spreading to Europe. It depends how much noise you listen to on a daily basis; if you’re very active on social media, or you watch the news a lot and read the mainstream media, you probably realised early that it was going to have an effect.

But the rule I have is that unless the Department for Education or the local authority tells me directly, there’s not something to be concerned about. What’s more, there were so many conspiracy theories, it was difficult to know what to believe.

So, for us, it was business as usual until the week before the closures were announced, when closures seemed inevitable - then we started creating contingency plans.

It was incredibly difficult to work out how to do everything that needed to be done, and how to foresee everything; when you’re a head, you usually know another head who’s been through whatever has come up. I’ve known who to call for advice. That just wasn’t an option this time: we were all in a completely new situation.

What made everything so much more difficult was that nothing was really in our grasp: we were having to respond to new situations, new realities and new pressures every day. It didn’t matter how much planning we did: we could have spent six hours in the evening planning, and the next day it was a completely different landscape.

Amid all this, we had to make sure we were calm and in control for the young people who attend our school, because these kids need that more than most. The swan theory is true for us: we can scramble about underneath the water in the evening when we’re not exposed to the staff and children, but what we really needed to demonstrate to everybody was that we were just keeping calm and carrying on.

One of my key jobs was stopping people running ahead; I made sure we didn’t start making lists until the key-worker criteria came out, for example. And because we have two small schools, I can be in touch with all the staff quickly - within a few hours: that’s not the case in a big secondary with hundreds of staff because you have to mobilise so m different things. For me, mobilising the English team is one person; mobilising the teaching staff is nine people.

I found the lack of guidance exhausting. As leaders, we’re so used to jumping through hoops for approval of things - getting governor sign-off and local authority agreement - that to suddenly be in a position, especially around free school meals, where the advice is just ‘do what you can’, that was really difficult.

I don’t know how the government could have really improved things, because they were being responsible and responsive in the same way we had to be. I don’t really know how it could have been done differently.

But what I do know is that being that person who makes the decisions, being forced to call things without precedent, that gives rise to enormous self-doubt. You question yourself repeatedly. I just hope we have got it right for our pupils.

The special-school head: ‘I’m a new head - after this, the next 30 years can throw anything at me’

Ruth Whitehead is head of school at Market Field School in Colchester, Essex

At the start of the month, when we started to realise the virus could impact our school, I made a contingency plan.

We were all expecting to close: what we thought would happen was that we would be staying open for the children who needed us most, and if they made us close completely, we’d go out and offer remote support to those children who needed it most.

The paperwork was a big challenge. When we were making the assessments of the children who needed our support, I was having to flick between a file for children with free school meals, one for children with social workers, and another one for safeguarding concerns. I spent about 15 hours one day just analysing all of that information.

And then there was the announcement that all children with education, health and care plans could stay in school. That changed our thinking. Because all of our children have an EHCP.

It was a bit of a bombshell. It would have helped if we’d had some warning that they were going to advise all special schools to stay open - because that is what that announcement amounted to: we weren’t closing.

We’re classed as a hybrid school, so we have children with moderate learning difficulties, severe learning difficulties and social, emotional and mental health (SEMH) difficulties. The day after the closure announcement, we quickly recognised that those with SEMH couldn’t cope. They didn’t know why their brothers and sisters in mainstream schools were getting to stay home and they were having to come to school, and we had quite a bad day in terms of their behaviour.

So we made the decision that all these children would be better off at home from a mental health point of view.

I haven’t been a head for very long - I became head of school in November 2017, but I went on maternity leave for a year, so I haven’t been in the role for a full year yet. It’s been quite eye opening, but I’ve been very lucky that I’ve had our executive head to help me and support me all the way. It’s been a real team effort and we’ve supported each other.

And in terms of the next 30 years of my career, they can throw what they want at me now. I’ve had an Ofsted already this year and now this. No year is ever going to be like this one again.

The primary headteacher: ‘Everyone has pulled together - and it’s been amazing’

Chris Dyson is headteacher at Parklands Primary School in Leeds

I had BBC News open on my laptop and I saw that Ireland had shut down - that was when I realised it was time to get a plan of action in place.

I’d do anything for our community. I open the school up at Christmas, I open up for six weeks in the summer, I send food parcels home to make sure children are safe.

So the plan was based on first looking after the vulnerable and making sure people didn’t go hungry. And then we started putting together online homework and paper homework, so when the call came to shut, we were ready.

But we were waiting and waiting for that key worker list. We had our plans in place, but when it did not come out until the middle of the night, it meant everyone working until 3am, trying to adjust our plans. We had not planned for the list to include practically everybody’s children.

Following the guidance would have meant we’d had over 140 pupils attending on the Monday. This just wasn’t practical, so the SLT, the governors and I had to take control by ensuring that no more than 10 per cent of the school population was on site. Communication was key and speaking to parents was essential.

I’m putting no blame on the government for this; they’re doing the very best they can. They’ve been dropped in a crisis, and they’ve had to act. When the announcement about [the government covering] 80 per cent of wages came out, it touched my heart and I thought: “Fair play”. It meant that our families weren’t thinking they’d have to keep going to work, and instead they could stay at home and keep their kids safe.

When the closures were announced, I started sending my vulnerable staff home, but some were in tears saying they didn’t want to go. Saying goodbye to them was hard.

But everyone is working together; the people at home got started on the planning and the online sharing, and talking to parents. Everyone has pulled together. When you’ve got happy staff, that happens.

The last Friday was when it really hit me. It hit me that there’s no way we’re opening before September. The kids were confused. I had a tear in my eye when I spoke to them and said: “Whatever happens, even if we don’t see each other again this year, we will see each other in September.”

I went out on the playground and said goodbye to every single child and parent.

The way all the headteachers have come together has been amazing. We’re sharing advice and looking out for each other. That’s been really touching.

This article originally appeared in the 10 April 2020 issue under the headline “Tears, anxiety and fear: the inside story on school closures”