As heat wave after heat wave settles over large swaths of the US this summer — with the latest one putting millions from the Southeast to the upper Midwest under excessive heat advisories this week — an estimated one-third of all pools will remain closed as cities face a national lifeguard shortage, according to the American Lifeguard Association.
Many cities are able to open only a fraction of their facilities, or at reduced hours. Some are canceling swimming programs as parks and recreation departments grapple with staffing challenges.
In Houston, just a dozen of its 37 pools have opened, operating three days a week on alternate schedules. The city’s parks and recreation department currently has 41 lifeguards, a fraction of the 187 needed to open all the pools, says aquatics director Leroy Maura. He attributes the shortage to the inability to recruit at local schools last fall — as they usually would before the pandemic — and to fewer returning members from the year before.
In New York City, the parks department plans to open all its outdoor pools later this month, but recently announced that swimming programs such as Learn to Swim and Senior Splash have been canceled for a second year in a row. “Safety is our top priority. It’s because of this that we prioritize access to the millions who visit our pools annually rather than redirecting resources to ancillary programming,” NYC Parks said in a statement to CityLab.
But pool closures and the cancellation of swimming lessons, especially at a time when temperatures in some places push into the triple digits, can have lasting consequences. Kids who have missed out on swimming lessons for the last two years because of Covid shutdowns are missing out on yet another year, which means more children could be at risk of drowning.
Communities of color generally face higher risks, with the drowning rate for African Americans 1.5 times higher than that for white peers, according to a study from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. The disparity was largest among children 10 to 14 years old. Meanwhile, the drowning rate for Indigenous Americans is double the rate of white Americans. And even before the severe lifeguard shortage, these communities were more likely to have difficulty accessing a community pool, a lasting effect of segregation.
For Kirsten Britt, a resident of Philadelphia’s predominantly Black neighborhood of Cobbs Creek, the inequity is right in her backyard. Last week on a hot Tuesday afternoon, she and dozens of residents rallied in front of the neighborhood’s Sayre-Morris Recreation Center to call on officials to reopen the city’s pools — many of which have been closed for several years.
Organizers also set out inflatable pools along the sidewalk, representing closed swimming facilities in the city. “We didn’t put any water in it, because when we walk around our communities and we see these pools, they’re all empty,” says Britt, who serves as the president of the Sayre Advisory Council. “So we want the city to see and experience what we experience every day.”
Last year, an analysis by the Philadelphia Inquirer found that the 22 pools that the city kept closed because of staffing shortages were disproportionately in low-income communities, although a spokesperson for the city’s parks and recreation department told the paper it took a “very thoughtful and strategic approach in how we chose which pools to open.” This summer, Philadelphia announced it would open 50 of the city’s 63 community pools on a rolling basis starting this week, adding that facilities were chosen based on their geography, past pool-usage data and neighborhood need.
But that doesn’t include the indoor pool at the Sayre-Morris Recreation Center, which has been closed since 2017 after falling into disrepair. The pool, like several others that also remained closed, is owned by the school district. Operations for the pool at Sayre is set to be transferred to the city once repairs are made, but in February, the school board voted 7-1 against a $10 million proposal to fix it up — despite voiced support from city council members and Mayor Jim Kenney. Board members cited the need to prioritize other areas for capital spending, while community activists argued that the actual bill for repairs is half the amount proposed.
“I’m not denying that there’s a lifeguard shortage, but I’m also not denying that there are maintenance issues [that] come from pools not being properly maintained on a regular basis,” says Britt, adding that kids in her neighborhood have missed out on nearly five years of public swimming lessons — and the city on potential employees. “You can’t cry [about] a lifeguard shortage after you continue to close indoor pools in Black and brown communities, and deny them an opportunity to even learn how to swim so that they can apply for that job,” she adds.
Reopening the pool in Sayre is also a matter of public safety as kids find other ways to cool off, like in the nearby creek where they could risk drowning. And in a city that saw a record number of gun-violence deaths in 2021, pools can help keep kids off the streets.
Instead, according to Britt, summer camps that would have offered swimming programs at Sayre have had to walk their young participants about four blocks to the nearest open pool at a different recreation center. “We are having these babies unnecessarily walk right by an area that has had multiple shootings in the past couple years in the daytime,” she says. Not to mention that the route crosses dangerous intersections.
Nationally, the pandemic cost cities nearly half a million candidates for lifeguard positions, according to estimates from the American Lifeguard Association. Spokesperson Bernard J. Fisher II says this year’s pool closures and program cancellations could have a snowball effect, making the current shortage last at least another two to three years. Competition between facilities could further strain cities as applicants chase after higher wages at hotels, condominiums and private swimming clubs.
And as summer temperatures hit new records each year, lifeguards face a tougher job not only keeping people safe in the water but also watching out for signs of heat-related illnesses. “Lifeguards are considered medical professionals, equivalent to a nurse, paramedic and [other] first responder,” says Fisher.
He called on local governments to think outside the box as they look to future summers: Perhaps cities could open some pools specifically for training the next batches of lifeguards, for example. Or, beyond recruiting teens, they might reach another demographic: retirees. “They have this extra time on their hands,” he says. “So if we pushed that it’s almost patriotic to help out the community and volunteer — of course, pay them wages and offer incentives — I’m telling you, there are retirees who would be more than happy to do it.”
In Houston, Maura says his department plans to add more days and facilities to their swimming schedule as they recruit more lifeguards. To draw more applicants, they’re offering incentives like a pay raise — from $13.66 an hour to $16 an hour — and a $500 sign-up bonus to new hires who stay through Labor Day weekend. Meanwhile, to offer swim programs amid the shortage, the department has recently partnered with a local organization that will provide instructors, something Maura hopes will continue and expand in coming years.
As the pandemic eases, he’s optimistic that they can return to recruiting lifeguards in schools, and believes that having that face-to-face contact is key to getting more teens to join. He expects things to bounce back, but “it’s going to take a little time,” he says. “We lost the lifeguards a lot quicker than it’ll take for us to regain all of them. It’s much easier to drain a pool than it is to fill one.”