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.

The Unarmed Teacher

            Most schools have not had shootings, but all schools have had students with struggles. These struggles range from family crises to student stress to mental illness to harassment and bullying. As a teacher, I know that part of my job is to be available and supportive to students who need to talk about their difficulties.

            That’s why I make sure my classroom is a safe and inviting place for students. My walls are covered with inspiring artwork, I welcome everyone who walks into the room, and I make sure my room is used for school clubs and activities, so there is always a bit of a buzz in the area as students come in and out to check in with me about after-school events.

            Over the years, it has never occurred to me that my room would be safer for students were I carrying a weapon. In fact, I am certain that the presence of a gun in my room would have deterred some students from stopping by to talk. A gun would not have added to the kind of emotional and physical security that these students sought. They wanted to learn from me, teach me something, talk with me, and enjoy the learning environment that we’d created together. They needed a smile, a song played in between classes, and photos on the wall depicting Malala Yousafzai, Lin-Manuel Miranda and Kermit the Frog. Not guns.

            There are some students and adults who argue that arming teachers would help bolster school safety, but these arguments fall short on many levels. For one, they lack clarity on where the guns would be stored, and how they would be accessible in moments of crisis. In addition, they fail to address our nation’s deep struggles with racial profiling, and how that might affect students and teachers of color. And they also don’t address how guns would make a classroom more inviting for that student who is struggling and needs to talk.

            Like many teachers, I have visualized what my actions would be should an active shooter enter my school. My thoughts have always been that I would do everything in my power to keep my students physically and emotionally safe. I’ve treated every lockdown drill seriously, and have taken the time for mental preparation. I’ve established in my mind that I would take a bullet to protect any student in my care.

            But holding a gun in my classroom would be different: It would require a major shift in my own demeanor, moving me from nurturance to enforcement. This shift would turn some kids away, and it would alter my own approach to the job. I can’t see a benefit in that. In fact, it seems to undercut the purpose of an educator, as part of the teacher’s job is to help students envision a more just and peaceful world. Our job is to help them see a way to make things better; adding guns to the classroom seems more like surrendering to the darker side of human nature. Teachers don’t specialize in despair; we prefer to work with hope.

            On Friday, about an hour after school had ended, a student of mine stepped in the room to talk. A family crisis had made it impossible for her to complete a story assignment for me, and her red eyes and tears revealed how upset she was about it. We talked it over, I listened and I did my best to offer words of support. There was no easy solution, and we’ll talk again tomorrow. But in that moment, she needed to hear from someone that it would be OK. I did my best to provide that.

            Nothing about this conversation would have been enhanced by the presence of a gun. As we consider measures to improve school security, let’s remember the true purpose of the teacher – as a source of instruction, guidance and encouragement. Teachers offer safety, but it’s not the kind of safety a weapon provides. It’s the kind that comes from the heart and mind. The kind we can’t live without.

            If we change our societal view of what we want from a teacher, we will have to live with the consequences. Because once you change it, there’s no going back.

We Get the Job Done

            It happens every time, I’m sure. But this was our night to see it. As two men rap six short words, a Broadway show is drawn to a halt mid-song by the audience’s response; actors and orchestra wait out the cheers before continuing.

My wife and I were celebrating our daughters’ birthdays (16 and 13) by taking them to see Hamilton, the smash-hit show whose soundtrack they’d been listening to for many months. Who would think that the perfect Sweet 16 gift would be a hip-hop Broadway show about a Founding Father?

            Toward the end of Act One, the cast performs the electrifying song “Yorktown (The World Turned Upside Down),” in which they depict the Revolutionary War’s final conquest. When Alexander Hamilton and Marquis de Lafayette meet on the battlefield, they can see that victory is at hand. As they open the song, the two men use their shared experience as outsiders to America (Hamilton hails from the British West Indies, Lafayette from France) to explain their success. “We’re finally on the field. We’ve had quite a run,” Hamilton says. Lafayette responds with one word: “Immigrants,” to which Hamilton joins him in rapping, “We get the job done.”

            That’s when the audience starts roaring. They know that when Lin-Manuel Miranda wrote these six words, he wasn’t just talking about the immigrants of 1781; he was, of course, arguing that immigrants are still getting the job done in America as we speak.

            Debates over immigration have dominated American discourse throughout the past year, and it doesn’t seem to be letting up. As I review the news accounts of our immigration debates, I think back to my experiences as an educator. In my 19 years as a full-time teacher, I’ve worked with many immigrant students. Some were in my classroom because their parents had fled violence in countries such as Kosovo, Ethiopia, Venezuela and Afghanistan. Others were there because their parents were hoping for better opportunities than they had in Vietnam, Nigeria, South Korea, the Dominican Republic or Haiti. Still others were here because their parents had taken job opportunities, moving their families here from China, France, Egypt or Canada.

            I’ve taught a Dreamer who went from the top of her high school class to babysitting because she couldn’t apply for admission to college. I’ve taught a teen who worked 12-hour graveyard shifts at a parking garage before coming to school. I’ve welcomed students into my school’s Community Service Club from Haiti, Iran, Venezuela and China, all of them looking for opportunities to serve. In recent months, I’ve watched my service club students volunteer their time at a program that serves refugee families, most of them from Syria and Iraq.

            Whenever a student from a new country arrives in my high school in central Jersey, inquisitive American students pepper that student with questions: What was it like growing up in your native country? What’s the difference between there and here? How are you doing with schoolwork? Have you been to Manhattan? When it started snowing one December day a few years back, a student of mine from Egypt told me she’d never seen snow before. Without hesitation, the entire class led her outside, where she looked upward, spread out her arms and caught all the snowflakes she could.

            I think the American students are so eager to learn from their immigrant peers because they understand something fundamental about this country: Immigration is a sign of our nation’s overall health. When people want to come to America, it means that our country is doing some things right. It means that the freedoms, economic opportunities and sense of community we’ve built are inspiring people from around the world. It means that our tradition of welcoming others has built us a level of global respect that is beyond measure. It means that for every individual who takes advantage of America, there are countless others who are giving America even more than they’ve gotten. So when you see a new student from another country in your class, it’s a sign that you were blessed with your place of birth. And you’re willing to share that blessing with others.

            This is the way it’s gone in this New World for four centuries now. I hope that as we debate the specifics of immigration laws, we find a way to hold onto this idea, which a certain copper statue in New York Harbor tries to remind us of every day.

            When the audience finishes cheering for that line in Hamilton, the song resumes. “So what happens if we win?” Hamilton asks. “I go back to France,” Lafayette says. “I bring freedom to my people if I’m given the chance.”

            And that’s the other thing about immigration: When people have the chance to see America up close, it also can give them the motivation to bring that torch of liberty back home. But when we wall ourselves off from the world, that chain reaction becomes impossible.

            So as the government debates continue on, I’m going to follow the instincts of my students, the words of Hamilton, and the observations I’ve made over two decades of teaching.

            It really is true. Immigrants, and those who welcome them: Together, we get the job done.