A call to transform schools from shelters of safety into sanctuaries of solidarity
(Part I of this article appeared on 10 Dec. 2025— https://ift.tt/X8gbqaU)
What Could NPCRP Look Like in School?
In the aftermath of Cyclone Ditwah, Sri Lankan schools can play a crucial role in helping children process their experiences, rebuild their sense of safety, and find meaning in collective healing. To achieve this, schools can employ a period of at least two or three weeks of continuous reflection and creative processing, a rich set of classroom, school-wide, and community-level activities, tailored to the needs of students in the post-disaster landscape.
Classroom Level: Beyond morning assemblies and daily curricular learning, classrooms can engage in reflection-based group projects that deepen understanding and reconstruct a sense of narrative around the disaster. Students may create timelines of the cyclone, maps of affected areas, and “hero stories” honoring rescuers, first responders, volunteers, teachers, parents, and neighbours. They can also explore environmental dimensions by studying land management, erosion, and deforestation—connecting personal trauma with broader ecological lessons. Using ordinary mobile phones, groups may produce mini documentaries capturing their community’s stories, strengthening both empathy and agency.
One powerful approach could be to dedicate the first period of each school day to guided sharing circles facilitated by teachers. During these sessions, students can explore gentle prompts such as: What did I experience? What did I witness? What am I feeling now—and why? What do I need to feel safe? How can I help my family or community? What have I or haven’t I done that would have contributed to natural disasters? What am I or am I not doing to contribute to environmental preservation? What more could I or couldn’t I do to avoid further ecological harm? Children may express themselves through spoken reflection, creative writing, drawing, painting, journaling, storytelling, role-play, poetry, song, or even handicrafts made from safely cleaned, recycled flood debris.
School Level: At the school level, exhibitions of student expressions, multi-faith remembrance ceremonies, guest talks by mental-health professionals, environmental awareness workshops, tree-planting memorials, disaster drills, and student-led volunteer clubs can bring the whole school community together in collective learning and restoration. Peer-support groups and simple grounding exercises can help students process emotions gently and safely. Collaborative murals and wall paintings portraying hope and resilience can serve as both an emotional outlet and a communal act of rebuilding.
Community Level: Beyond the school walls, community-based initiatives—such as joint parent-student rebuilding projects, clean-up campaigns, home-visit systems for affected families, partnerships with clergy and village leaders, parental sharing groups, and collaborations with NGOs for counselling and disaster training—help weave stronger bonds between families, educators, and local institutions.
Throughout the NPCRP process, teachers and parents can play an essential psychosocial role by observing children with quiet attentiveness. Signs such as withdrawal, silence, unusual aggression, disturbed sleep routines, anxiety triggered by rain or thunder, sudden academic decline, or persistent sadness may indicate deeper distress. Those showing significant symptoms can be gently referred to school counsellors, psychosocial officers, or local mental-health teams for additional support. Early identification can be life-changing, especially for children who may otherwise suffer in silence.
After the NPCRP period, schools might organize a simple but meaningful internal exhibition showcasing student artwork, posters on resilience and disaster preparedness, documentary videos, and a “wall of gratitude” dedicated to rescue workers and volunteers. A remembrance corner honoring victims and survivors can provide a quiet space for communal reflection. Parents, guardians, religious leaders, and community members may be invited to witness the strength and vulnerability of their young people and to reaffirm a shared commitment to rebuilding lives and landscapes.
The reflection period may culminate in a closing ceremony of remembrance and resolve—an inclusive event that reflects Sri Lanka’s multicultural and multi-religious identity. The program could include a moment of silence, the lighting of oil lamps or candles, blessings from clergy of different faith traditions, and the felicitation of survivors and volunteer responders. Schools may also unveil a small, simple memorial—perhaps a stone, a tree, or a bench—created collaboratively by students, parents, and teachers, bearing a message such as: “From suffering, we rise — Cyclone Ditwah, 2025.” Even the simplest symbol can become a powerful reminder of shared endurance and collective hope.
Finally, schools could document this entire journey by gathering student photographs, stories, artwork, and personal reflections into a printed booklet or digital archive. Such a record would serve not only as a testimony of what the children endured, but also as a chronicle of resilience, solidarity, and renewal, something future generations can look back on as they continue the work of building a safer, more compassionate, and more environmentally conscious Sri Lanka.
Why Does NPCRP Matter?
Creating space for reflection and healing after Cyclone Ditwah should not be an optional exercise, but a national imperative. Emotional healing is essential because children recover best when they are encouraged to express what they have lived through; silence, on the other hand, often deepens fear, while shared storytelling strengthens resilience. This process, when adhered to within an established framework such as the Canadian sharing model or Jesuit spiritual conversation, is therefore therapeutic, nurturing respect and community-building through active listening and intentional speaking. As young people hear one another’s experiences, they develop empathy, and empathy in turn strengthens social cohesion—the foundation of a healthy democracy. Psychosocial activities that students engaged in during this period further facilitate opportunities to identify and support those students who show early signs of distress, while transforming schools into nurturing spaces that form whole persons, not just exam-takers.
Crucially, this period allows schools to integrate values that often remain outside the syllabus—emotional intelligence, ecological responsibility, national solidarity, and ethical reflection—contributing to strengthening national identity, as young people from diverse ethnic, linguistic, and social backgrounds discover a common narrative of suffering and survival. Also, fostering an understanding of environmental responsibility encourages sustainable behaviors that benefit the nation’s ecosystems for decades to come. Ultimately, these efforts strengthen the triangle of school–home–community relationships, building trust networks that not only support healing now but fortify the Sri Lankan nation against the uncertainties of the future. In that light, the cyclone, devastating as it was, offers a real-world context through which these values can be meaningfully taught and internalized.
Just as early psychosocial support leads to healthier long-term mental health outcomes, preventing deep-seated trauma from taking root, the long-term benefits of reflection extend well beyond the current disaster. Sri Lanka’s increasing vulnerability to monsoons and cyclones underscores the need to prepare the next generation for future disasters; children who learn to respond proactively, intelligently, and compassionately today will grow into adults who can lead communities safely through tomorrow’s crises. Children who are given tools to process trauma today will mature into resilient, compassionate, and confident adults capable of leadership in difficult times. A culture of solidarity can begin to take root when young people learn to care for “the other”, helping to soften and heal the country’s longstanding divisions. Improved disaster preparedness becomes a natural by-product of an educated and emotionally informed younger generation, reducing future loss of life and enhancing community responsiveness.
Conclusion
Cyclone Ditwah has forced Sri Lanka into a moment of profound reckoning—one that goes beyond the damaged infrastructure and broken landscapes. It has confronted us with the emotional and moral responsibility we hold toward our children, who have witnessed, endured, and responded to this disaster in countless ways. As the nation embarks on the long road to recovery, the reopening of schools becomes more than a logistical necessity; it becomes a national act of renewal, a declaration that our commitment to healing is as strong as our commitment to rebuilding.
If we are courageous enough to embrace this moment, schools can become powerful spaces of transformation. Not only can they restore stability and routine, but they should be the first places to cultivate empathy, resilience, ecological responsibility, and a shared sense of belonging, the qualities that Sri Lanka urgently needs as it confronts both old and emerging challenges. By creating structured opportunities for reflection, dialogue, creativity, and community engagement, we ensure that our children do not merely “move on” but move forward with understanding, resilience, educated solidarity, and purpose.
To that end, if the experiences carried by Sri Lankan children today are met with guided reflection and compassionate mentorship at school, they can become the seeds of a more humane and united nation. But if ignored, suppressed, or treated with less urgency and priority, they risk hardening into private wounds that isolate rather than connect. This is why the Ministry of Education’s choices in the coming weeks matter so profoundly. Like NPCRP, an intentional, well-structured reflective period within schools is not a delay in learning; it is learning in its highest form. It is the education that acknowledges life, loss, dignity, and responsibility, the kind of education that prepares children not only for examinations but for citizenship. Reopening schools without systematically addressing the emotional and moral dimensions of this tragedy, therefore, would be a missed opportunity
Hence, let us allow this disaster to teach us something enduring: that Sri Lanka rises strongest not when it focuses solely on rebuilding walls and bridges, but when it rebuilds its people, beginning with the youngest among us. Let us empower children to speak, share, create, question, and hope. Let us help them connect their experiences to a greater moral and ecological awareness. Let us show them that solidarity is not a distant ideal but a lived reality, learned through compassion and strengthened through community.
In the months and years to come, a new story will be told about how Sri Lanka responded to Cyclone Ditwah. Let that story be one of unity, vision, and courage. Let it be said that we refused to let our children carry their fears alone. Let it be remembered that our schools became sanctuaries of healing and hubs of civic renewal. And let it be known that from the grief of 2025 emerged a generation—educated, empathetic, and resilient—capable of guiding Sri Lanka toward a more just, prepared, and environmentally conscious future. As the legendary image of the Phoenix reminds us, from mud, we rise, and from learning, we (re)build the Sri Lanka she was always meant to be. (Concluded)
Dr. Rashmi M. Fernando, S.J., is a Jesuit priest, educator, and special assistant to the provost at Loyola Marymount University, Los Angeles, California, USA.
by Dr. Rashmi M. Fernando, S.J. 
from The Island https://ift.tt/LnXzbHu
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