This post comes a little after the fact-
Sometimes I take for granted all the roles which a teacher takes on. I sit in my classroom and do my very best to make lessons engaging for middle schoolers; to make grammar and writing seem interesting to kids. I try to share my love of reading and light a fire in the minds of all my students. It’s hard sometimes. Especially as agency is slowly (but surely) being stripped away from educators.
But that isn’t what this post is about. This post is about a different role. Recently, I had the surreal experience of remembering that I was the adult in the room. Well, I mean, that is obvious, right? But, when it comes to trauma, sometimes it is hard being the adult- remembering that my role and the duty of my role trumps any authentic response.
I do not know if I will capture this moment accurately or not, but here I am regardless.
Russia Invades Ukraine-
The first couple of days after the news broke were tense. You could feel it in the air. The kids would whisper about it and then hush up quickly as I walked into the room. It was as if they were unsure the level of taboo.
Soon, the ice began to melt, and students began to ask questions. One young man came into my room, his usual middle school boy bravado clearly collapsed. He asked me what would happen if the United States reinstated the draft? What would happen if Russia bombed the White House? What would happen if Russia released all their warheads?
Other students stopped and stared. The room was quiet. All eyes were on me.
This wasn’t the first time that day that a student had asked questions about Russia- about war, but this was the first time it felt like the whole world stopped to look at me. A deafening silence, something most teachers long for, ha.
Seriously, it felt different. I don’t know how to describe it. There I was, an adult in a room full of twelve and thirteen year old’s who were all waiting eagerly for my response to the questions. Here I was, the adult. I am supposed to have not just answers, but the right answers. That is what is expected of me. I can’t be too political. I can’t be dismissive. I can’t talk over them or down to them. I should be honest. I should be careful and meticulous in my wording because honesty isn’t good enough. I need to recall what I know. I need to admit to myself what I don’t know. I need to be reassuring to those innocent, concerned eyes staring back at me. All of this in a millisecond.
When I was a kid, I hated receiving some truism as an answer to a serious question. As an adult, I realize the scales of consequence aren’t actually comprised of only two sides.
All the while, I am personally (and know they are too) feeling the stress of two years of abnormality. Covid. Stress. Division. Uncertainty. Constant “pivoting.”
I feel overwhelmed, but I am the adult in the room. I cannot be overwhelmed. I must be the rock, even if I feel like butter.
I feel so bad for these children. And I am looking back at a young man who then rewords his question- “If we went to war with Russia, would teenagers have to fight?”
“No, I don’t think that would happen,” I say. For some reason I don’t even know if I believed myself in that moment.
The class and I talked for a few minutes about the situation in the Ukraine and then went about our normal routine, but I kept thinking about that interaction all day long. And the next day.
It compounded when a Russian student was repeatedly asked by other students about Russia’s motives. She was angry. She was frustrated. The other kids were mostly being genuine and not meaning to tease her. Some then started to tease her when they saw they were getting under her skin. People (I had originally written kids here, but I think people is more accurate.) Memes arose. Luckily, it stopped pretty quickly. It turns out, most of the students were actually concerned and caring about it.
Russia was the talk of the school. It quickly died down, though. Now we’re on to something else: Quandale Dingle and Amber Heard. It is as though two months ago is a thing of ancient past.
Nowadays there is a lot of talk about attention span. Does social media create an unhealthy necessity for instant gratification? Why are there so many ADD diagnoses? That sort of thing. Reflecting on the aforementioned moment, I realize there may be another type of attention span. Usually, one thinks of attention span as a measurement of how long a person can focus on a particular topic, as in when reading or building a puzzle; but what about our emotional attention spans? What is happening to them? Does this affect cognitive dissonance?
I feel for the citizens of Russia and the Ukrainian people. How terrible the world can be….
All these thoughts and emotions borne from a simple question. The world is deep and beautiful. Look at how much potential we all have…..what a shame…