The moment of one of today’s Russian strikes on Kyiv.
I can see that fewer and fewer people are reading news from Ukraine. I understand that on a Sunday morning, people don’t want to read about war. They want to sleep a little longer, drink good coffee, and sit in the sun. I understand that. The algorithms on X limit content about war, destruction, and suffering. You have to make an effort to even see this information.
All of this is understandable on a human level. But unfortunately, if you remove Putin and the war from your information feed, they do not disappear from reality.
Putin is a sadist and a maniac. He is a threat to all of humanity.
There needs to be active resistance. News from Ukraine needs to be shared. People need to keep their focus.
Despite a sleepless night, I’m still here. And I’m grateful to everyone who continues to stand with us.
One day, we’ll drink morning coffee together in a beautiful, peaceful Kyiv.
🧵Over Christmas I had an opportunity to catch up with friends across Europe, and those conversations convinced me even more that unless there is a fundamental rethinking inside the European Union, the continent will slide into geopolitical irrelevance-and we'll all lose. 1/13
Hundreds of thousands Ukrainian soldiers are celebrating Christmas today in the trenches while holding the line against Russian aggression
They’re doing it for their nation’s survival & for Europe’s security
Merry Christmas to all of them & their families. May they reunite soon
Today, I am in the Kupyansk sector, with our warriors who are getting the job done for Ukraine here.
The Russians kept going on about Kupyansk – the reality speaks for itself. I visited our troops and congratulated them. Thank you to each and every warrior! I am proud of you! And I thank all of our Land Forces – today is your day!
November 20
Russian top general to Putin: “Kupiansk has been taken under control”
December 2
Putin: “We invite foreign media to Kupiansk”
December 12
Zelenskyy: “Hello from Kupiansk”
🇻🇪📢Victoria Murrieta nos explica cómo las marchas de venezolanos y el respaldo internacional a María Corina Machado (@MariaCorinaYA) representan un fuerte llamado a la democracia frente al régimen del dictador Maduro
Más información en #NoticiasEnRed 🗞️ con @BravoLucy | https://t.co/WBG4duMW30
A message from a Kindergarten teacher:
After forty years in the classroom, my career ended with one small sentence from a six-year-old:
“My dad says people like you don’t matter anymore.”
No sneer. No malice. Just quiet honesty — the kind that cuts deeper because it’s innocent. He blinked, then added, “You don’t even have a TikTok.”
My name is Mrs. Clara Holt, and for four decades, I taught kindergarten in a small Denver suburb. Today, I stacked the last box on my desk and locked the door behind me.
When I started teaching in the early 1980s, it felt like a promise — a shared belief that what we did mattered. We weren’t rich, but we were valued. Parents brought warm cookies to parent nights. Kids gave you handmade cards with hearts that didn’t quite line up. Watching a child sound out their first sentence felt like magic.
But that world slowly slipped away. The job I once knew has been replaced by exhaustion, red tape, and a kind of loneliness I can’t quite describe.
My evenings used to be filled with construction paper, glitter, and glue sticks. Now they’re spent filling out digital reports to protect myself from angry emails or lawsuits. I’ve been yelled at by parents in front of twenty-five children — one filming me with his phone while I tried to calm another child mid-meltdown.
And the kids… they’ve changed too. Not by choice.
They arrive tired, anxious, overstimulated. Their tiny fingers know how to swipe a screen before they can hold a crayon. Some can’t make eye contact or wait in line. We’re expected to fix all of it — to patch the gaps, heal the trauma, teach the curriculum, and document every move — in six hours a day, with resources that barely fill a drawer.
The little reading corner I once built, full of soft beanbags and paper stars, was replaced by data charts and “learning metrics.” A young principal once told me, “Clara, maybe you’re too nurturing. The district wants measurable results.”
As if kindness were a weakness.
Still, I stayed. Because of the small, holy moments that no spreadsheet could measure —
a whisper of, “You remind me of my grandma.”
a shaky note that read, “I feel safe here.”
a quiet boy finally meeting my eyes and saying, “I read the whole page.”
Those tiny sparks were my reason to keep showing up.
But this last year broke something in me.
The aggression grew sharper. The laughter in the staff room turned to silence. The light went out of so many eyes. I watched brilliant teachers — my friends — vanish under the weight of burnout, their joy replaced by survival.
I felt myself fading too, like chalk on a board that’s been wiped one too many times.
So today, I began my goodbye. I pulled faded art off the walls and tucked thirty years of handmade cards into a single box. In the back of a drawer, I found a letter from a student from 1998:
“Thank you for loving me when I was hard to love.”
I sat on the floor and cried.
No party. No applause. Just a handshake from a young principal who called me “Ma’am” while checking his notifications.
I left my rocking chair behind, and my sticker box too. What I carried with me were the memories — the faces of hundreds of children who once trusted me enough to reach out their hands and learn. That can’t be uploaded. It can’t be measured. It can’t be replaced.
I miss when teachers were partners, not targets. When parents and educators worked side by side, not in opposition. When schools cared more about wonder than numbers.
So if you know a teacher — any teacher — thank them. Not with a mug or a gift card, but with your words. With your respect. With your understanding that behind every test score is a heart that cared enough to try.
Because in a world that often overlooks them, teachers are the ones who never forget our children.
Important call yesterday with my Estonian counterpart @HPevkur.
The Russian incursion into Nato airspace is unacceptable.
The Department of War stands in solidarity with Estonia and commends the rapid, strong allied response.
https://t.co/EKyQOI471C
Hoy hace 36 años que se estrenó el spot de Pepsi protagonizado por Michael Jackson y un joven Alfonso Ribeiro (Carlton Banks de “El príncipe de Bel-Air”), que debutaba en la televisión.
"We cannot leave the security of Europe in the hands of voters in Wisconsin every 4 years" says France's Europe Minister
"Let's get out of collective denial. Europeans must take their destiny into their own hands, regardless of who is elected 🇺🇸president"
We come together today to honor the memories of the nearly 3,000 lives we lost in New York, Shanksville, and at the Pentagon on September 11, 2001. We will #neverforget our fallen teammates, the survivors, and the first responders who saved lives that day.
Here’s a great visual from @washingtonpost charting Bill Clinton’s claim from Wed night: Democrats have championed job-making in recent history, beating republicans 50 to 1.
A historic decision that serves to remind Americans of what we seem to have loss and what we must endeavor to restore - humility in power, service to country, and decency to each other.