Yesterday morning, while sitting outside of the Hub with one of my students, a fighter jet flew over the island. It whizzed by so fast that neither of us even saw it, we just spontaneously reacted to the sonic boom it left, our necks craning to see where the machine may have gone.
“In Syria,” my student says, and then imitates the sound of a bomb going off, “Kuh Boom!” I roll my eyes in annoyance, knowing that my country has contributed far too much to this endless destruction in the Middle East.
Why is a fighter jet flying over Greece right now? I don’t know, but Greece and Turkey are not the best of friends, so maybe they’re just flying by to take a look at what is going on with their neighbor, to remind them of the Greek presence.
For a large percentage of my students; however, fighter jets soaring over head was a common occurrence back in the lands that they fled from. Another jet passed by in the middle of one of my English lessons and I watched the knowing looks around the room as the sound cracked through the room. Most of the students smiled, describing to me in their broken English exactly what that sound means to them. They smile because they don’t know what else to do, or what else to say. How does one actually comprehend the sound of bombs dropping in the distance…or right on top of you?
Just a thought, just a reminder of what it means to be working with this particular population. It’s a message that reemphasizes how the most beautiful people always seem to have traveled the cruelest roads.