The day you answer 'yes' to the title 'teacher', get ready to play instructor, parent, pastor, investigator - even lawyer and judge. These were the words of a colleague many years back.

At the time, students in our school were in an ugly mood and we had to spend days on end on our toes, patrolling, guarding, advising, investigating, you name it. The demeanour of my students back then is a far cry from that of the students sitting in class this month, not because the students are different, but rather because the circumstances are. The only link between my colleague's words and the present circumstances is the knowledge that teachers across the country must assume yet another role this time round: that of a psychologist, a healer of emotional hurts.

The crisis that we continue to witness in our country is unprecedented. A hundred thousand-plus children have been left homeless, school compounds have been converted into refugee camps, and at least four thousand public schools are caught right in the middle of this political tornado.

Students across the country have witnessed all that is happening. Some have borne the brunt of it; they have watched their homes razed, they have lost parents and siblings in the hands of neighbours or the police, others have suffered physical injury.

Others have watched their role models - political leaders, community elders, parents and relatives - not only incite, but perpetrate violence. They have sat through wise-sounding discussions that justify these acts, and some have got so 'sold-out' to the ideologies that they may have participated in the violence.

The lucky, those that are not directly affected, have had time to read or watch the graphic details from the local media. Some of the things they have heard and seen put to question the fundamental values that education hopes to inculcate - think sanctity of life, respect for property, democracy. The result of this is fear, doubt and confusion.

IT'S THIS MIXTURE OF EXPERIENCES that confront every Kenyan teacher, especially those whose students are drawn from varied backgrounds. The teacher is currently grappling with the question: how will I help these students cope?

It is obvious to all that in schools, it is not 'business as usual'. Low turnout, fear, feelings of betrayal and suspicion are some of the issues that colour the landscape, but with the right action from the teachers and the parents, students will be put on the recovery trail and many may be saved from life-long scarring.

But how well-prepared is the teacher to fit into this role? After all, a good number of teachers have been on the receiving end. Moreover, teachers, like all other Kenyans, have political alignments, which determine how they look at the current crisis. Needless to say, these biases might affect how they view even the students who sit in their classes. It is this kind of thinking that is driving parents to seek transfers for their children from areas they perceive 'hostile' to their community to areas considered 'friendly'.

True, teachers are human, given to emotions and prejudices. It is only natural. However, for the sake of our children, every teacher must rise above prejudice. They must recognise their privileged position in the healing of their students' emotions, and this nation.

Their utterances and actions today will shape the future of this nation; they can determine whether it will be coloured by ethnic hatreds and animosity, or by mutual respect and understanding. The noble thing to do is, therefore, not to give in to the temptation to vent anger, apportion blame and/or segregate hapless students.

That said, how can teachers help students settle in school and start the healing process? For sure, they cannot take the legendary bath of the cattle egret and feign ignorance. The best way forward is to talk about what has happened. Allowing students to share their experiences is a good starting point.

Ms Gitumbi is a teacher and education consultant