Facing the Tipping Points of 21st-Century Stress

            Last week’s helicopter crash that killed Kobe Bryant and eight others is a horrible tragedy for the nine individuals who died, as well as for the many who are mourning their deaths. While Bryant’s life and legacy are both inspirational and complicated in different ways, it’s also true that he was 41 years old and in the prime of his adult life. The death of someone so vibrant and active, who was just starting the second act of his life, strikes at the heart of anyone in touch with their own mortality.

            This particular tragedy may have also served as a tipping point for some, as they may have experienced so many stressful events in their communities, country, world and planet in recent years that they had trouble handling yet another.

            We all have personal stressors in our lives, and there are times when those stressors become true crises that profoundly impact our day-to-day lives. But even when there’s no crisis, and the stressors are manageable, there seems to be this underlying layer of despair in the world today. This can make it even more difficult to handle the personal and community struggles – because we look around and see so many problems tearing at the fabric of our social, political, ecological and cultural institutions.

            Those who have been marginalized in society have felt this underlying stress every day of their lives. Those who are in positions of privilege may be able to look back on certain decades, such as the 1980s or ‘90s, with some degree of nostalgia. But the present century has brought with it so many widespread challenges to all of us: September 11. The wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. Deadly hurricanes, from Katrina to Sandy to Maria to Harvey. Other climate-related disasters, from rising sea levels and record temperatures to massive wildfires and flooding. A global financial crisis. Mass shootings. The presidential election of 2016, and the pronounced polarization that has followed it. Mass migration, and the debates over immigration throughout the world. The shootings of unarmed people of color. Sexual harassment. Deadly viruses. A widespread lack of civil discourse.

            Someone who is stressed about a loved one’s illness, while also dealing with daily personal, domestic and work challenges, might still find room in their life to take on a couple of these communal crises: Perhaps they are engaging in some environmental activism, and also reading about all the presidential candidates, in preparation for voting this year. They’re full to the brim with things to worry about, and are using their own version of the Serenity Prayer to stay on top of it all. And then, one Sunday afternoon, they hop online and see that, of all things, Kobe Bryant is dead. It can feel like one too many stressors, enough to bring us to a tipping point.

            When Malcolm Gladwell authored The Tipping Point in the first year of this century, he ushered in a new era of social science books dedicated to helping us figure out how and why we do the things we do. With that book, Gladwell studied what he called “social epidemics,” and what causes a series of smaller changes to reach a point where a larger, more systemic change takes place. Two decades later, we are nearing a point at which our collective psychological well-being is near a tipping point.

As educators, one of our challenges is to help students and communities find a way to transcend and avoid that level of despair. Education can inspire us in that way. Social and emotional learning can inspire us in that way. And building communities of lifelong learners can inspire us in that way. We can’t control the overall stress levels of our students, but we can help them search for a way through the stresses by learning, processing, sharing and growing together.

            It’s no coincidence that in this time period, many have turned toward the words of beacons of light such as Fred Rogers, Freddie Mercury, Michelle Obama, Bryan Stevenson and Lin-Manuel Miranda. The same mind that identifies overwhelming stress seeks out ways to manage and overcome that stress. We feel the despair in the traumas that surround us. But we also search together for ways to identify and feel hope in the midst of that despair.

            During this century, no athlete has impacted the sports world more than LeBron James. Now a Los Angeles Laker, James found himself standing before the crowd at Staples Center on Friday in the Lakers’ first home game after Bryant’s death. As he held the microphone and spoke, James’ words applied both to this specific tragedy and to so many of the crises we all face.

            “We’re all grieving, we’re all hurting, we’re all heartbroken,” he said. “But when we’re going through things like this, the best thing you can do is lean on the shoulders of your family.”

            When that tipping point arrives, James seemed to be saying, we don’t have to handle it alone. We never have to handle it alone.

Decorating the Office

            I’ve never had an office before. Cubicles and classrooms defined the first 25 years of my working life, which was just fine, thank you. But as a school administrator, I get an office. It’s tiny, with most of the floor space taken up by a large desk, file cabinets and a bookcase. But there’s also plenty of wall space, and that’s where I had to make choices upon entering the room.

            What would I hang on the walls of my office? And what would that say about my values as an assistant principal? As students began entering the office during this first week of school, I happily gave them a tour.

            One wall was reserved for a series of Apple “Think Different” posters that my wife gave me during my first year of teaching, 19 years ago. I’ve had them up every year since, so there was no doubt that they would make their way into the room. They feature black-and-white photos of famous innovators, from Mahatma Gandhi to Amelia Earhart to Jim Henson to Pablo Picasso. The “Think Different” slogan has always fit into my core values as an educator, so I want students to see those words as often as possible.

            There are no diplomas on the walls, but there is a teacher award plaque and photos of my students, one of them a framed photo of a journalism class given to me last year by the students themselves. Another photo was sent to me from a just-graduated senior, who is studying abroad in her first semester of college and wanted me to see her enjoying a rugby game in New Zealand. Another photo shows students from the community service club I’ve advised, posing with a patient from Children’s Specialized Hospital during a dance marathon fund-raiser. With these snapshots from my teaching life, I hope to show students how much I care about their lives.

            There is a small, three-tiered table in a corner, which features an old-school typewriter on the top level, a reporter’s notebook and recorder on the second level, and a newspaper drawing on the bottom. The table reminds me of the journalism that serves as the foundation of my work experience, work ethic and work philosophy.

            The bookshelf features texts that support my work in education and adolescent development (from Carol Dweck’s Mindset to Susan Cain’s Quiet to Angela Duckworth’s Grit to Frank Bruni’s Where You Go is Not Who You’ll Be), as well as books that encourage dialogue on social justice and community engagement (Ta-Nehisi Coates’ Between the World and Me, Bryan Stevenson’s Just Mercy, Rebecca Skloot’s The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, James McBride’s The Color of Water). There are also books that remind me of how I grew into my role as an educator and thinker, from authors such as Jonathan Kozol, Anna Quindlen, Fred Rogers and Ralph Ellison.

            Outside my door, there are two dry-erase boards: One for students who need to leave me messages, and one featuring an inspirational quote of the day. On the first day of school, I posted a quote from the writer Rainer Maria Rilke: “And now we welcome the new year, full of things that have never been.”

            Beyond the innovators, snapshots, mementoes, books and words, there’s another piece to this room that serves as perhaps the most visible part of my office décor. On three of the walls, I have hung photos and drawings of bridges. Many of them depict the Brooklyn Bridge, which has long been my favorite New York City landmark. From poster-sized photos to New Yorker covers to a painting by my daughter, I surround myself with the 135-year-old architectural beauty that spans the East River because I find it incredibly inspiring.

But as a writer and English teacher, I also see a metaphor here. Adolescence is, in many ways, a bridge between childhood and adulthood. And administrators are often bridge-keepers who help connect students, faculty, parents and the overall community with one another. Finally, schools themselves are bridges, designed to help learners connect with one another, with academic disciplines, and with their own individual thoughts. We’re constantly building bridges for students as they share information, and also within students as they connect the dots between prior knowledge and new discoveries, between assumptions and reality, and between fact and fiction. In so many ways, educators are the engineers of personal growth, and it is our job to keep the pathways clear for students to make important crossings and to take the risk of reaching for the other side.

There are a lot of quotes out there supporting this metaphor, but I’ll leave you with one. During a lecture 55 years ago, Ralph Ellison said, “Education is all a matter of building bridges.” This seems as true to me today as it was to Ellison in 1963.

So yes, I have an office now. But the essence of my work remains the same as it ever was. In case I forget that, I’ve got the bridges to remind me.