Every day when I walk into my economics classroom, I think that the state of the world cannot possibly get worse. And every day as I walk out, I realize that I was wrong. After 75 minutes of current event talk at 8:30 in the morning, I’m silent as I walk to my next class. In those two minutes, heading from one floor of SamPhil to another, I must will myself to put everything I’ve just learned out of mind. It feels like I’m supposed to take note of it and then move on, as if all of this isn’t happening. It seems as though the 15 other people and I in this class are the only ones who carry the “burden” of knowledge throughout the day. Do others not know? Or are they choosing to ignore? Or simply compartmentalizing better?
As I write this, it’s the morning of January 30th. For the past week, I’ve seen countless Instagram stories calling for “no work, no school, and no shopping,” as part of a nationwide ICE protest. It’s taking place today, yet our campus is still bustling and booming with thoughts of upcoming math tests or Spanish presentations — tasks that seem superficial in the grand scheme of things. I know that we’re taught to put ourselves first to focus on success and what makes us happy, but it’s hard to do when the country is in shambles around us.
Last night, I was gearing up for a test of my own, set to take place this morning. After finishing a scrolling break where I saw countless more protest announcements, I fired off an earnest email to my economics teacher. It wasn’t an attempt to get out of the test, but a request to identify a designated day after, when we could do something meaningful to make an impact as a class.
I believed that after learning so much, many of my peers over the years would have been similarly inclined to act on the knowledge. However, I realized that I was mistaken when I woke up to an email reply in which my teacher shared that she had never had a student ask about applying something from the class conversations. To actually do something to create intentional change. I was shocked that no one had ever asked the question: “What can I do to make an impact?”
At Andover, we’re taught to focus on our studies to perform at the highest level. We think that a low grade means the end of the world (or no college), and that we’ll never move past it. I believe that, to an extent, being so focused on our own performance sometimes inhibits us from caring about what actually matters. That, and the threat of absences looming over us, causes too many personal relationships, connection possibilities, and current events to be overlooked, with our heads bent over a textbook from a century ago. But it’s time to reflect on the present.
In this Andover bubble, it’s easy to ignore the outside world by prioritizing studies and activities. Nothing is pressuring us to think about current events because our classes seem like the first concern, and everyone around us is also concentrating on that primary focus. The issue is that sparse TikTok clips and Instagram reposts aren’t reliable news sources, and the minimal campus discussions and awareness limit the opportunities for people to learn more. It took me almost my entire Andover career to be in an academic setting where we were encouraged to discuss current events as a way to help shape our opinions and inform our actions when we depart the classroom.
As a school with so much educational and public power, we have the ability to inspire lasting change and create ripple effects. Instead, when I talked to people throughout this morning, I got a mix of “cool, but I can’t skip my class” and “wow, you’re the first person who’s brought this up.” By being so programmed to think of academics and only academics, we lose understanding and compassion for others.
So, how about we find a solution that serves all needs? One that doesn’t require missing class or having your face plastered across news channels, yet creates actionable and impactful change. I’m not certain about the best approach; however, I am intently exploring and considering different paths.
As one example, I’m extremely passionate about literary accessibility and empowering education for people to build their knowledge to form their own opinions and actions. This work leads me to think about the possibility of incorporating some form of current events discussion and next steps thinking into our daily life at Andover. At an institution that’s renowned for its education, I believe that it’s time to start putting our learnings to use. We need to apply and channel our education towards actionable steps and stand up for what we believe in. We need to turn the theory we’ve learned into practice that will attain tangible results.
As emerging adult citizens of the world, we need to think and act like it. In our safe space at school, it may be easy to let things go or feign ignorance, but it’s time to think past ourselves. In the personal process for each of us, deciding how, when, and where we want to draw our own lines, I think that it’s important to consider forms of resistance that may be public, as well as ways to focus behind the scenes to generate institutional change.
I fully acknowledge that not all manners of protest may be accessible or safe for everyone, which is why I think that the first step should be implementing more education opportunities. There are definitely risks in directing attention to ourselves, so I believe that by learning more about current affairs from all angles, we would be set up with the tools that we need to determine our own actions to initiate change.
I know that doing nothing is not an option, but doing something doesn’t have to mean drawing direct attention to oneself, and there is not a single “right way.” I’m wondering about approaches that can be meaningful, while perhaps acting anonymously and building knowledge that will make a difference in the long run. Simply attending a relevant talk or panel, like the one held by History teachers last night, and engaging in related conversation about applying that knowledge, can be one accessible step forward.
Throughout these next few months, I strongly encourage all of us to think about where we’re comfortable drawing our own lines and how far we’ll go to stand up for ourselves and others. At what point do the costs of inaction become so drastic, so horrible, that the risks feel minimized? Are we at that point? As my teacher puts it, it’s not a matter of “if,” it’s a matter of “when.” When these atrocities impact each of us, both directly and indirectly, we must take initiative.
