In light of the U.S. and Israeli conflict with Iran, this is a timely guest post from an Iranian American educator.

She remains anonymous to protect her family, friends, and former students in Iran.

‘Human Beings Are Members of a Whole’

“Anonymous” is an educator with over three decades of experience working with children across Iran and the United States:

I have been thinking about a poem I grew up with, written by the Persian poet Saadi, whose words are woven into a large handmade Persian carpet gifted by Iran and displayed at the United Nations headquarters in New York:

“Human beings are members of a whole, In creation of one essence and soul. If one member is afflicted with pain, Other members uneasy will remain.”

This is not just poetry to me. It is how I was raised. It is how I live. And it is how I teach.

I am an Iranian American educator. I began my teaching journey over 35 years ago in Iran, working with children and believing deeply in the power of education to shape lives. In Iran, we grow up with a deep respect for learning. Families hold high expectations, and children are supported to succeed. Education is not just a path; it is a value.

When I came to the United States, my perspective as a teacher expanded. I began working with children from all over the world, different languages, cultures, beliefs, and I saw something beautiful: Despite our differences, we are so similar. Every child wants to be loved. Every family wants safety. Every culture values kindness, dignity, and hope.

Because of the diversity of my students in America, my teaching has become more explicit about who they are as human beings. As educators, we spend our days building a safe place for our students. In my classroom, I work intentionally to create a community where every child feels seen, valued, and respected.

Through projects like our family heritage work, where students explore their heritage and share personal family stories, I watch my students take pride in who they are while learning to appreciate others. I see parents feel included. I see children thrive when they are surrounded by love and dignity for who they are, I see Saadi’s creation of one essence and soul.

That is why what is happening in the world today breaks my heart.

I am not writing about politics. Politics often feels like a space filled with division, distortion, and power struggles that do not reflect the truth of ordinary people’s lives. I am writing as a teacher. As a mother. As a human being. As one of Saadi’s “members of a whole.”

The recent violence in Iran, the place where I lived, taught, and helped raise generations of students, has shaken me deeply and is breaking my heart. The Iranian people, like people everywhere, do not seek war. They do not wish harm on others. They have long endured hardship and, historically, have not sought conflict beyond defending their land and one another.

In Iranian culture, there is a strong belief in separating the actions of governments from the people themselves. This perspective allows individuals to hold onto their humanity even in times of crisis. This is not a political stance; it is a deeply rooted cultural value. This perspective has shaped how I see the world and continues to guide me as both an educator and a human being.

Consequently, I never stop thinking about children in war zones. I think of the little ones who wake up to the sound of explosions instead of birds. I think of the fear they will forever carry, their confusion, and their loss of safety.

It breaks my heart to see images of people forming human chains around historical sites, trying to protect thousands of years of culture and heritage from harm. These are not acts of war, they are acts of love, of preservation, of people holding onto humanity in the face of destruction.

We are all connected. When one part of the world is in pain, we should all feel it. If we do not, we must ask ourselves what we are losing of our own humanity. What does it truly mean to be human?

As educators, we have a responsibility not only to teach reading, writing, and math but to nurture compassion, empathy, and a shared sense of responsibility for one another. Our students are watching us. They are learning from how we respond to the suffering of others. What are we teaching them about the world?

I will continue to teach my students with love, kindness, and dignity, because I still believe in the goodness of people. Even as my own family in Iran lives under the reality of war, I hold on to that belief. And I feel a responsibility to speak, to remind us that every child, and every human being, deserves safety, care, and a future filled with hope.

But my heart is with the children living in fear, whose lives have been disrupted by forces they cannot understand. No child should have to grow up this way, not anywhere in the world.