Bridge Builders Ed

This past week, our school community experienced a heartbreaking loss: a young student passed away unexpectedly. It wasn’t due to violence or neglect, but a tragic accident that deeply affected everyone. I had the privilege of working with her a few times last year, and the news has weighed heavily on all of us.

Tragedy, however, isn’t limited to accidents. Many of our students face difficult realities every day. Not long ago, a student in our school lost a sibling to violence in the community. Even as emergency responders filled the area, the student had to return home knowing something unimaginable had happened. How do you help a child carry something like that? What can you possibly say?

In moments like these, I rely on my faith and hope for a measure of wisdom—but above all, I try to show students that I care and to be honest with them. When a student once asked why something had happened, all I could say was, “I don’t know.” Hard conversations require grace, humility, and the courage to admit we don’t always have answers. There is power in saying, “I don’t know, but we can work through this together,” or, “Some things don’t have clear answers, but I’m here with you.”

At the same time, everyday challenges in the classroom can be just as complex. Today, I worked with a student I also supported last year—someone who struggles with significant behavioral and emotional difficulties. Their history includes trauma, and their emotional health is fragile. Supporting students with experiences like these goes far beyond classroom management; it often affects relationships with families and creates situations where accountability becomes complicated.

This student has several adults involved in their support, but none are consistently present in their life the way teachers are. Many people want to help, yet they may not fully understand the child’s daily experience, and the mixed messages can leave the student confused—especially when guidance from different adults conflicts.

Situations like these raise difficult questions: How do you support a student who is struggling mentally when the adults in their life are also overwhelmed? How do you offer both compassion and boundaries when outside support is inconsistent or even unintentionally counterproductive? Many people assume that specialized services only address learning disabilities or autism, but they also exist to support students who face deep emotional challenges and trauma.

For educators, the work can feel overwhelming—but it is also profoundly meaningful. Our role is not always to have all the answers. It’s to create a space where students feel seen, heard, and cared for. We navigate hard conversations, misunderstandings, and emotional turbulence with patience and honesty. And sometimes, the most powerful thing we can say is simply, “I don’t know—but I will be here with you as we figure it out together.”