There’s a moment no one really talks about.

Not the siren. Not the running. Not the waiting.

It’s the moment after.

When your phone buzzes— “Event over.”

And just like that, you’re expected to go back to whatever you were doing before. As if your body didn’t just brace for something it still doesn’t fully understand.

You pick up your phone. You reopen your computer. You continue the sentence.

Like nothing happened.

This week, we were told—less than twelve hours before the start of the school day—that we’re going back.

Back to routine. Back to structure. Back to normal.

Forty days of disruption, fear, sirens, uncertainty—

And then: “See you tomorrow.”

I thought a lot about what that means.

Not for me. For my students.

Because resilience is a beautiful word.

It sounds strong. Impressive. Something to be proud of.

And my students are resilient. But not in the same way.

At the beginning of the war, one of my students — M — had his mom call me.

She told me he was struggling with Zoom. That the........

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)