Are we supposed to pretend everything is okay?

Navigating the pretend normal as Jews are attacked worldwide

Immediately after October 7, I checked on all my Jewish friends. No one was okay. Of course no one was okay. And we saw our supposed friends turn on us, say terrible things about Israel while family and friends of ours were in bomb shelters. Institutions my friends had devoted their whole careers to failed to condemn the attacks or set limits on campus “activism” that threatened their children.

I wrote what I wrote, published a lot, did what I could.

I Stand With My Jewish Friends

Support Peaceful Free Expression, Stand Up to the Angry Mob

Israel Under Attack

Israel Is Not An Abstraction to Me

and some more.

I kept checking on people, but eventually everyone needed to go on with their lives, to the extent possible. I made more friends in Israel and my mind stayed there. I once almost ran into a telephone pole because I was texting Ari in Jerusalem.

Most of my blog friends are from that time - we read the FP, Eve, Jill, each other. But most of my in person contacts are not Jewish, and no one ever mentions things like the attacks on synagogues and Jewish schools in just the last few days.

Some of my colleagues are visibly Jewish or very likely. A large percentage of our students are Muslim, not Arab Muslim but black Americans who are Muslim now. The schools make arrangements for the kids to pray during Ramadan and to be somewhere other than the cafeteria during meals if they are fasting. As well they should: I’m all for making it possible for people to practice their religion. Many kids wear Muslim garb. The girls describe it as “All garbed up.”

Some of the students and staff are Christian. The crossing guard always wishes me a blessed day, which is very important because most of my day being blessed means not getting hit by a car! She’s so nice.

I don’t believe in bringing religion or politics into school, to the extent that it is avoidable, and I wear no religious symbols except my black cat necklace. They probably don’t realize that I worship the cat goddess Bastet.

But since the attack in Michigan, I’ve been thinking a lot about how my fellow teachers and the administrators at my school are hanging in there. If they were my friends I’d say something but I’m just a sub… I try to do my job, be supportive, and not throw myself on the ground crying, “Please keep me!” I am not a stray cat, I remind myself. I do have a home. It would be untoward to wait on the stairs outside every morning meowing to be let in.

As a teacher, you think a lot about school shootings. I’ve never had a formal training in what we are supposed to do, though I imagine the full time staff have. I’ve thought about it though, and I’ve had trainings in other contexts. They say: Run, Hide, Fight. I’d want the kids to run and hide. But I know my children. The instinct to fight is so strong with the children of the hood that they would fight.

My kids have come out of a place that is torn by violence, especially gun violence, and crime. What does not look like an adaptive response actually is: they fight easily and posture as people who will fight. More at one school than at my favorite… there is a different vibe. How I’d love to really talk about it some day, compare notes, tell all the things I know as a de facto undercover agent for years to someone who is making a difference…

The kids fight to protect their siblings first and foremost. Their honor, second. Of course their women. This is why it makes sense that the girls are drawn to the boys who might look like the worst prospects but who have the ability to defend them out in the real world… for now.

I didn’t think that the instinct to protect the kids would come back. But I remember the day that Mr. G at my second favorite school said to me, “It’s my favorite person to see on the schedule!” and I thought, “You’re going to drag me back in, aren’t you?”

So I think about it. They’re our kids now. Mine too. I bet I’m the only sub who gets stopped by kids on the way home. They ask for stickers and wish me a good weekend. “Get home safe” I say. Get home safe, my little babies who are a foot taller than I am!

I wonder if my colleagues are watching what’s happening. I’m sure that some are. I wish I could say, “I hope you’re okay, how is your family, I’m here,” but I can’t.

So I just show up, stickers blazing, and smile.

I asked the kids what kind of stickers they want next week. I get them cheap on Amazon, order when I get paid on Fridays.

Hearts and basketballs and footballs. So glitter hearts and basketballs and footballs will be delivered tomorrow.

I’m going to cover that place in hearts.

I had some of my favorite eighth graders on Friday at the end of the day. I love watching them grow up. They’re becoming young men and women. Eighth grade drama is such fun… this one talking to that one, this one saying, “I’m not ready for a relationship.” I was in eighth grade once, I tell them. Some days I’m not sure I’m not!

Perhaps I have officially graduated to the eighth grade.

With one of our sweeties at the shelter this week. This guy was found trying to get into a house. He has a purr that you can hear across the room… he was obviously someone’s cat and abandoned. He must find a home soon. So must I.