Assembly

In my regular life, I’m a high school teacher. I like it, it suits me. I like that there is a rhythm and tenor to my routine, yet no day is ever the same. I like my students, and the interactions with my colleagues in our department office leave me full and happy. Understood.

This week, we had the Veteran’s Day assembly, what I consider a throwback to a different era. In our majority minority school where students sometimes feel left behind, confused by the actions of the government, it can be difficult to ensure adherence to decorum, even in the best of years when the fat of the land has reached even us. But two days after the election of 2024? Reader, I did not have my hopes up.

Speaking with students the day before while in homeroom, we’d discussed the election, and I had urged being careful with one another. One student, a true favorite, had said, but why should I when this country is so set on telling me I don’t belong? I had no answer other than, don’t drop anchor in anger, my love. It’s just not good for you. I’d done that very thing eight years ago and suffered mightily at it. I’d had such hope, then harbored such resentment, both stoking a mighty fire of hate inside me.

So when we entered the gym, did I anticipate that me and my students would be seated on the floor amongst the veterans and their families? No I did not. Did I anticipate my gratitude when our principal set expectations that this was a solemn occasion unlike our pep fests? Did I anticipate leaking endless tears when our choir directors wrung perfect performances from our students outfitted in tuxedos and gowns? Of course I hadn’t. As my husband will tell you, I live in the moment.

And when the band played a rousing medley of the armed forces branches, and the members of those branches were invited to stand when they heard their song, I knew I would cry–that, I had a handle on. When that last remaining World War II vet stood, it got me. When he saluted, it got me more. When a student of mine played taps and absolutely crushed it, I was taking some deep ass breaths, praying my catharsis was almost over.

Yet as immersed in my feels as I was, when the vet next to me wavered on his feet, my training of being a caretaker in the school kicked on in an instant. I grabbed that man and steadied him. I asked if he’d like to sit and supported him before glancing behind me, locking eyes with that student from my homeroom. She steadied our veteran’s chair and nodded succinctly at me. ‘I got him. I got you.’

We got him seated and I sat in full catharsis, weeping at my workplace, a deeply unsettling feeling. A moment later, and the student body was excused. Another moment, and I turned and thanked our elder for his service. And finally, I turned and hugged that girl, the one who’d felt such betrayal, and in the moment, still chose the path of light.