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In the Wake of Crisis:
Taking Care of Caretakers
Robert Evans, Ed.D.
Most educators are born caretakers, and when crisis strikes in any form they tend to concentrate
unhesitatingly and superbly on the needs of their students. Even without formal crisis training,
and even in the face of catastrophic events like the attack on the World Trade Center and the
Pentagon, most teachers naturally respond in caring, sensitive ways that comfort children and
parents alike. This has surely been the case in many thousands of schools since September 11.
But going forward, the key to their continued success will be something they are not always so
good at: attending to their own needs. To continue good caretaking, caretakers must take care of
themselves.
Each individual’s reaction to a crisis is affected by many personal factors: some people
tend toward fear, others toward anger; some cope through humor, others through tears, and so on.
But as the initial shock and disbelief begin to wear off, certain kind of concerns commonly emerge.
Many people worry that their reactions are unnatural or extreme. For example, they may become
concerned for their own safety to a degree they know is unrealistic (one teacher told me, in
disbelief, "I keep thinking terrorists have targeted my supermarket"). Or they may
find their beliefs undercut by their fears (opposition to racial profiling vs. worries that Arab
Americans could be dangerous). Some might feel exaggerated "survivor guilt" when
they read or hear of individuals somewhat like themselves
who died, even though they have no direct relationship
or connection of any kind. And some might even discover
a grim preoccupation with the details of the event
(how victims actually died, what they were thinking
and feeling). Sometimes people wonder if the extent
or intensity of these kinds of thoughts means that
they have a serious psychological problem.
A frequent surprise is how strongly new loss rekindles
old loss. Since loss is one of the most powerful
experiences in life, all the deaths and disappointments
that are important to us tend to be linked in our
thoughts and feelings. A new loss, especially a dramatic,
tragic one, can trigger memories of past wounds,
and these may re-emerge with unexpected strength.
A teacher whose husband was killed by a drunk driver
fifteen years ago found that reading an article about
all the families who lost husbands and fathers at
the World Trade Center reopened her grief almost
as if it were fresh.
Along with these kinds of reactions, some people
also develop physical and behavioral symptoms. The
former can include difficulty sleeping, loss of appetite,
and nervous stomach, among other things, and some
people who experience these worry that the symptoms
will intensify into chronic problems. Others find
that they are less able to concentrate and closer
to the edge, to tears and anger. A principal told
me of a teacher who helped enormously during the
first days after the attack, but who, a week later,
fell apart when her classroom’s computer system failed
temporarily. Another found two teachers—good friends—shouting
at each other in the parking lot over a disagreement
about who was to monitor recess the next day.
At the opposite end of the spectrum, there are individuals
who do not develop strong reactions. They seem not
to be affected, or not deeply. Others may find this
equanimity surprising. They themselves may wonder
if there is something wrong with them because they
aren’t
as upset as they should be.
All these kinds of reactions and concerns can happen
to anyone; they are not unique to teachers. But except
for the last, they often strike teachers with particular
force. For one thing, as caretakers, teachers feel
an obligation not to let students down—and not
to let down in front of the students. For another,
teachers are used to a structured world in which
they can work with students in an organized way,
and the events of September 11 were not only sudden
and shocking, they are unfinished and could lead
to other sudden shocks. Although we might easily
construct a long list of perspectives and steps that
are potentially helpful in such a situation, over
several decades of crisis intervention in schools
I have found four that stand out.
1. These reactions are normal and rarely persist. Nothing
listed above, even the fear of going crazy, is abnormal
in the wake of a tragic loss. As a general rule,
most symptoms disappear and most individuals return
to their previous level of coping. Improvement can
be gradual and there can be intermittent relapses,
and of course we can’t be certain of what
is to come—if there were to be further tragedies
they could complicate coping—but
even in the worst and most devastating of circumstances,
the unmistakable trend for most people is toward
resilience; it is remarkable how humans rebound and
adapt. The mark of success is not instant recovery,
but progress over time.
2. It does not help to pretend to be unaffected,
and it will not damage students if a teacher is
occasionally emotional about the tragedy or is
not quite herself for a while. There
are all sorts of lessons to learn in school, including
those about how people function in the face of major
life events. Students may be surprised to see a teacher
in tears, but unless it becomes a pattern, it is
unlikely to do any damage to them— especially
if they get a straight answer when they ask why.
3. It does help to get back to work. The
rituals and patterns—even the demands—
of school life are comforting to everyone. Students are a big help in this regard, as many
teachers have noted in recent days. "Even when I wake up thinking I can’t do it,"
one says, "as soon as I arrive and see the kids, with all their normal energy, interests,
issues, and needs, it just gets me going. Before you know it, you’re involved with them." There
is important work to do and it will ultimately make
everyone feel better to be doing it.
4. Most important, there is no substitute for
support: find it and give it. Stress
can be relieved in only two ways: by gaining control
over one’s circumstances and by receiving
support from others. When the former isn’t
possible, the latter is essential. In many schools
teachers are highly supportive of students and very
nice to each other, but do not turn to one another
for help with the kinds of stresses described above;
there is little tradition of displaying feelings
or weakness in front of colleagues. It can therefore
be helpful to make an occasional, formal place for
debriefing over the next few months. A good way is
to suspend some regular business at some faculty
meetings so that staff can share observations and
reactions— not
just about how students are feeling and doing (young
people tend to be more resilient than adults), but
about how staff themselves are feeling and doing.
Useful here would be to talk not just about worries
but about coping strategies faculty are finding helpful.
An outside consultant with clinical training is often
helpful in leading such discussions and in being
available to teachers and administrators to follow
up on particular concerns.
As awful as it is, a crisis of unimaginable proportions
brings some blessings, one of which is to force us
back into touch with the fundamentals of human relationship.
While someone who develops a sustained symptom or
a continuing concern will benefit from professional
support, all of us will do better together than separately.
Even if the coming weeks and months bring exceptional
challenges—especially if they do—nothing
will help more than staying connected and doing for
one another what teachers so naturally do for students.
Dr. Evans is the Director of The Human Relations
Service in Wellesley, MA. He can be reached online
at www.robevans.org.
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