Abducting leaders of other countries, killing nonviolent observers, students too afraid to leave their homes to attend classes.

These are, indeed, challenging times to be a teacher.

Today’s post is the first in a three-part series offering some potentially helpful advice.

You might also be interested in The “Best” Lesson Ideas For Teaching About The Protests & Killings In Minneapolis and The Best Lesson Ideas About The U.S. Intervention In Venezuela.

Here are some suggestions to classroom educators—from practicing teachers—on how to cope.

Being ‘in It’

Christie Nold (she/her) is a public school social studies teacher in Vermont:

I have written in the past about teaching “in the days after.” What do you do after a major event? What structures can you put in place? What is most needed in your community? Recently, when Larry reached out about a possible piece, he asked about “writing a post sharing advice to educators about how to teach during these chaotic times.”

For me, that reframe was essential. I had been operating from a “teaching in the days after” frame rather than “teaching during the chaos” frame. This reframe feels similar to naming the differences between post traumatic stress and chronic stress. What does it mean to still be “in it,” rather than on the other side of something?

For educators in 2026, we are certainly “in it.” The “it” can be named as a time of rapid pressures around artificial intelligence, foreign and domestic instability, and threats from the Department of Homeland Security that risk tearing families and communities apart, as well as the continued chaos and uncertainty of our current government system. The instability created by any one of these forces can certainly rock a school system and classroom, and at this time, we’re navigating so many at once.

In her 2021 text Equity-Centered Trauma-Informed Education, Alex Shevrin Venet describes four priorities: predictability, flexibility, connection, and empowerment. In this political moment, these help create the framework for my instruction.

When thinking about predictability, students in my class know that each day will follow a similar structure. We have built routines together that support students easing into the lesson, while also carving out time for emergence. For my social studies class, that means beginning each day with the headlines and taking time to talk about what we notice, wonder, and what patterns are emerging. This dedicated time allows us to pause and reflect about what’s happening in our world every day rather than try to pick and choose the moments when it “matters.”

In my classroom, flexibility does not mean tossing the predictable plan but rather recognizing that the discussion of headlines might be short on some days and long on others. It means being able to meet students where they are on any given day by working choice into assignments and recognizing who might need the support of a rigid deadline and who might need that critical extension. Although they may appear in conflict, blending predictability with flexibility can bring strength to our instructional practice.

Every year, I hope to strengthen my muscles around connection. I watch as my colleague Carly Bennett brilliantly weaves in attendance questions that are often silly but also designed to allow her to know students better and for them to know one another.

Students I’ve taught in the past talk about my colleague Saif Shah’s mindful minutes and reading time, which both create structure and connection. Additionally, I see my colleague Allie Vega build connections by the hundreds through her artful facilitation of our library space. Sometimes, for me, connection is remembering that I might not be the exact right person for a student, but I can seek out colleagues in the building who are and who can help me deepen my own understanding of what’s most needed.

Finally, empowerment. After speaking with colleagues regarding an upcoming student walkout in a neighboring district, I realized that I wanted to build in a moment to talk about safety planning in my classroom. I knew that the local action would likely come up in our discussion of the headlines.

I reminded students that should they ever feel passionate about something and want to take action, I hope they might create a plan. I shared that it’s important to let someone know where you’re going and that it should be someone who isn’t already with you. To have contact information at the ready and to talk with trusted adults about your plan. I also opened my door for students to come and talk more about safety planning should they choose to. As our young people feel more empowered to speak out and work toward change, I believe it is our responsibility to help equip them with tools to care for themselves and one another.

Above all, I was recently reminded by Monica Desrochers, one of the incredible leaders in our district, as well as Rhiannon Kim, a remarkable healing-centered anti-oppression practitioner, that this work is messy. Engaging in the work of relationship building and educational facilitation is not often linear. Remembering to build structures and relationships that can continue to place our young people at the center of our practice can help provide a sense of stability even in the most turbulent, or chaotic, of times.

A ‘Scary Time’

Mary Stokke is a public high school teacher in California:

As a Minnesota native who now teaches in California, I have been disturbed and dismayed to hear the intense pressure that my friends and family members are living under as their community is occupied by federal forces. I experience anger and despair when I browse the news. I worry about the place I grew up and people I actually know. I also worry about our safety and rights as a broader society.

It is a tense and scary time for our youth. Young people in particular are getting bombarded with unlimited media, some reliable and some not, that depict violence and hatred. Children whose parents brought them to the United States for a safer, more secure future are facing continuing uncertainty.

So what can we, as educators, do at this moment?

When I talk to friends in Minnesota and view their social media feeds, I see many examples of hope. School administrators who help walk their students to school because their parents are afraid to leave their houses. Working adults who raise money for their neighbors and donate to community food drives and distribution efforts. Retired people who show up to nonviolent demonstrations. We can learn from these examples.

Inside the classroom, students can exercise critical thinking to analyze texts about how communities are protecting themselves from violence and extrajudicial enforcement efforts, through strategies like community patrols, school walkouts, as well as through education about constitutional rights and local policies to protect students. They can explore ways to cope with fear and support mental health. In school clubs, we can give students opportunities to build a sense of democratic civic engagement. We can seek opportunities for students to volunteer in their communities and have a say in decisions that affect them. Addressing small problems and having some success leads to the capacity to build communities that can address bigger problems.

Outside of the classroom, we can call our legislators and support candidates who are willing to advocate for students regardless of immigration status. We can show up to protests. We can reduce our reliance on businesses that undermine our safety and democracy. We can volunteer in mutual-assistance efforts. We can make sure that the places our children attend school have safety plans to protect all students. There are so many bright examples happening all over the country that demonstrate how we can stand together and keep ourselves safe.

Right now, faith in my students and community is keeping me going. Nothing will get better if we don’t act, so it’s time to do what we can for a more hopeful future.

‘A Daily Practice of Noticing’

Diana Montelongo is a 10th-year high school mathematics teacher:

Every year I teach, I keep waiting for that feeling of “not doing enough” to fade. It never does. The to‑do lists continue to grow, the reminders randomly populate my mind during my off hours, and the balance between work and life feels like a moving target. I’ve stopped expecting the feeling to disappear. Instead, I’ve learned to work with it. Focus on what I can control.

The truth is, the best thing we can offer our students is our presence. Not perfection. Not endless hours of planning. Presence. There’s a moment every teacher knows: You look out at your class, and dozens of pairs of eyes are on you. You have a learning objective, a pacing guide, maybe even a beautifully structured lesson. But what you see are the humans in front of you: each with different needs, different perspectives, different stories they carry into the room.

You see the world outside your classroom pressing in on them, and in that moment, it’s easy to wonder how you’re supposed to support them through all of it.

I’ve stopped trying to tackle everything. What I can do is show up consistently and build systems that work for me and learn to be OK letting go of the ones that don’t. I can create routines that give students a sense of safety when the world around them is anything but predictable. I can acknowledge that students don’t “clock in” at the bell; they arrive as whole people, shaped by whatever they’re navigating beyond my walls.

“Teaching the whole child” isn’t a slogan. It’s a daily practice of noticing. It’s asking yourself, what does this group of students need today? It’s adjusting when the energy in the room tells you your plan needs to shift. It’s recognizing that sometimes the most academic thing you can do is slow down long enough to connect. And connection doesn’t require an extra hour of prep. Sometimes, it’s five minutes: a quick hook that taps into their interests, a closing question like, “Where might you use this in real life?,” or a moment to check in with the student who’s been quiet throughout the entire period.

Those small choices build trust. They save you time in the long run because students learn better when they feel seen. Students remind you, in the middle of the chaos, why you chose this work. If there’s one piece of practical advice I’d offer educators right now, it’s this: Make your teaching more human, not more heroic. Heroics burn us out. Humanity sustains us.

Ask yourself: What routines help my students feel safe and grounded? What systems actually support my teaching, and which ones am I forcing myself to maintain out of guilt or a sense of obligation? Where can I build in small moments of presence that strengthen relationships?

We can’t control the world our students walk through. We can’t fix every barrier they face. But we can create a space where they feel valued, capable, and connected. That matters more than any perfectly executed lesson plan. Showing up fully, consistently, and mindfully, is enough. More than enough. It’s the work.

Thanks to Christie, Mary, and Diana for sharing their thoughts.

Today’s post answered this question:

What is your advice to educators about how to teach during these chaotic times?

Consider contributing a question to be answered in a future post. You can send one to me at lferlazzo@epe.org. When you send it in, let me know if I can use your real name if it’s selected or if you’d prefer remaining anonymous and have a pseudonym in mind.

You can also contact me on X (formerly Twitter)at @Larryferlazzo or on Bluesky at @larryferlazzo.bsky.social.

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