Of course, sorting has been a problem long before pods. Americans tend to move into neighborhoods full of people like them, with conservatives living in one place and liberals in another. And what is true on the street is even more true virtually. The tendency, for instance, of people on Facebook to create “echo chambers,” where discussions usually occur among folks who already have similar ideological positions, is well documented. Conservatives rarely click on stories from liberal outlets and vice versa; “red feeds” and “blue feeds” are becoming a pernicious part of the online experience. Pods are an added layer of fragmentation on top of this preexisting problem.

Now that we’re back in school after an altogether strange year, my peers are probably going to gravitate in the classroom toward those who were in their pods. This kind of “sticking with your friends” happens all the time, but this year I fear it is going to be worse. Where we sit in class, whom we eat lunch with, whom we call to discuss homework—all are potentially affected by the legacy of these pods. Some kids will relish the chance to meet new people after a year at home, but many will likely double down on their preexisting relationships. This may threaten the scholastic mission, for though comfort and familiarity are important touchstones in education, so too are forced interactions with people you wouldn’t necessarily choose to talk to.

Students, parents, and schools can consider some simple solutions. Indeed, being mindful of these forces is the first step forward. Though some people are discussing the need for social pods to be broken apart to encourage more heterogeneity, it is worth thinking about how parents and kids can help avoid replicating these self-chosen groups in school by being more deliberate in their choices. As a student, I understand how hard approaching new people is after being in a comfortable and familiar pod for so long. But the price of not trying is steep.