How Do We Move On and Upward?

Last week in Trauma Literature class, we were doing a small group activity in which we proke down an excerpt titled Trauma Affect by Meera Atkinson and Michael Richardson. I was in one of the groups, and the portion we were examining more closely discussed the "proliferation of trtauma" through technology. The people in my group talked about social media, about how quickly and continuously we access what is happening around the world. They pointed out that we do not even hoave to open our phones to read an article or watch a video because an alert pops up immeidately when news or specualtion of news occurs anywhere in the world. Reports of a shooting in Michigan? An alert drops down from the top of millins of screens before the students in the school have escaped from their classrooms. An earthquake thousands of miles away? A buzz and banner let us know before the aftershocks have subsided. A new strain of COIVD19 adds a new layer to what seems to be an unending stack of anxiety? It's trending on multiple platforms that ping you visually, audibly, and tactilely so you don't miss out. CAN'T miss out. Do we expereince each of these traumas directly? Perhaps not. But when students in a school states away experience a shooting, our students and staff immediately put faces on sillohettes of not only the alleged shooter but also the victims, and those faces are beside them at a table or across the cafeteria. The earthquake doesn't rumble under our feet, but the rubble piles up in the hearts and the heads of young people who wonder what the world they are left with will look like. And the neww strain of this virus? For too many, it means they will add to a list of people they already know who have lived too many days in isolation. It means anothe layer of anxiety about visiting grandparents or, unfortuanetely, attending another funeral. It means that once again, they have to consider not what will happen this year of their HS careers, but what will be taken away from them, what memories and expiences won't be talked about 10 years from now. It was during this conversation that it struck me, something so simple and clear. I was in the midst of a really good day. I had laughed with my students. We had started exploring new learning as we returned from break. We were creating poems about how to leave the past behind, or how to bring pieces of it into the new year. We had meaningful discussions about lyrical dissoance and irony. We had shared snacks, and thhey were delicious. During the week, I had spent times with friends, colleagues, people that make me better, personally and professionally, and had left those conversations lighter and happier. That week, my daughter was starting a new job, one that allowed her to step further into the world she wants to be a creative and lively part of. My son was exploring his next steps on pursuing his passions. My wife was rested from her own break, and she was laughing more as we enjoyed more moments together. In short, life, in the narroer view, is pretty damn good at that moment. It has been a while since I have been able to honestly say that, and say it with my chest. Like so many teachers, and so many others, a weight has set on me, draped itself on my mind, and even when I lifted it up, it seemed as if I was looking at everything through a shadow that it was casting. And that sucked. I know of many others who were feeling the same way. But at that moment, and I told the kids in my group this, I was ok. The world in front of me was good. Ironically, we were discussing trauma and how it invades so much of our lives in so many ways, but it was really true. I think one reason was because in the midst of this discussion, the kids naturally turned to their solutions. They spoke of setting timers on their phones to limit their doom scrolling. They showed me how on the newer software updates, we can turn off those alerts, those banners and buzzes, at particualr times of day, not so we stay ignorant or blissfully unaware, but so we can take a step away and let the world in front of us reappear and refocus. Or so we can sleep. These kids have trauma in their lives. They know it. Tbey told me how they feel conflicted when a friend talks to them about someth8ing they are going through because they truly want to help, so they feel they cannot tell that friend what they themselves are going through for fear of adding it to their friend's load. So, they talk to someone else if they can, but understand that in doing so, they are putting that friend in the same position, and they feel guilty about that too. "That's why we have therapists, Mr. Kohls!" one said. "And you!" another piped up. That made me feel better, and worse at the same time. But the fact is, these kids get it. Yeah, things are tough all over. Some places more than others. Some people more than others. But what can we do to deal? What can we do to make sure we don't stay in that place of hopelessness or internal dispair? How can we make our little place in the world a little brighter, and in turn, maybe, illuminate a little wider circle of the world. If we can do that, those circles will start to overlap, and then we are no longer in the dark alone. One day last week, I sat in a gathering of amazing people. I won't call it a meeting. Meetings are different. Sure, we had a goal and task before us. But, for me anyway, that was secondary, at best. This was a gathering, as one leader phrased it, of dremaers and doers. And at that moment, it was important to remember that for some, dreaming was important. The group ranged from early elementary teachers to HS content teachers to district-levle adminsitrators. And I honestly cannot tell you what we "got done" as far as moving through the assigned tasks. I know someone can tell you because they took notes. In that gatheirng, a friend and colleague put a thought into words: How can we not simply "move on" from the upheaval and trauma of the last few years; how can we "move upward" because that is what has to happen? We are working on how we can do that, and I can tell you that I am in a different headspace than I was in when I came out of break. That time with those people helped me get there. The time with particular people earlier in the week did too. And that is what I need to consciously do. I need to turn off the alerts a little bit each day - literally and metaphorically - and turn to who and what pick me up. Walk down the hall between classes to hear the voices that reset my mindset. Intentionally immerse myaelf in "meaningless" conversations that are actually beyond meaningful in the connections they allow to form. Celebrate the pumpkin cheesecake dip and vanilla wafers a student brings to class. Listen wholeheartedly and without mental distraction to the kid that reads a poem they wrote. The opportunities are legitimately endless. I have to allow then to fall into focus before me. The bigger world will be there later, whenever that may be. We can deal with it then. And by letting those things happen and recognizing them for what they are, we will be able to deal with it. We will be able to dream. We will have the energy grind. We will find those way to let the circle of light expand, just a bit, and begin to overlap. We will be ok.