Blackout 2026: A Basic Survival Kit from Ukrainian Educators

We collected teachers’ stories from Dnipro, Kyiv, Sumy, Odesa, Zaporizhzhia, and other cities. These are not just everyday accounts — they are a philosophy of survival, methods of preserving sanity, and professional dignity.

The Reality of January 2026: Darkness and Cold

The situation in regions close to the front line or those subjected to massive shelling remains critical. Educators describe their daily lives without embellishment.

For me, January 2026 turned out to be predictably difficult, disturbing, and exhausting. Dnipro has plunged into darkness: electricity is available only 5–7 hours a day, and even those outage schedules often do not work. A separate challenge is the air raid alerts, which can last 16–17 hours a day; and everything is flying, while access to information is limited. Weather conditions have further complicated the situation.

I live in a private house with gas heating, which is a big advantage. My basic survival kit includes matches, candles, batteries, charged accumulators, power banks, a supply of drinking and technical water, food, and medicines. In addition to taking care of myself, I must also care for my husband, who is a person with disabilities, which increases my level of responsibility.

Psychologically, I try to cope through familiar rituals: morning prayer, coffee, and evening relaxation with an interesting movie on a laptop, a book on my phone, or my favorite music.

At my university, it is currently the period between examination sessions, so there is time for research, methodological, and organizational work – I have prepared an article, developed two new courses, and am working with thesis students. I believe that it is precisely work that prevents one from losing common sense and helps outline vectors for further movement.

I always think about those for whom it is even harder – our soldiers, the people of Kyiv, Kharkiv, Odesa… Ukrainians. The phrase “we’re holding on” has recently become a trigger. However, this does not mean that we have lost faith. Where others would break, Ukrainians are tempered and become stronger – and therefore invincible.

Sumy region… Sumy… We were among the first to feel the war firsthand. But it became especially hard starting on August 6, 2024. From that day on, there has not been a single day or night without shelling: Shahed drones, missiles, multiple rocket launch systems. Air raid alerts are constant, almost around the clock.

We have been working exclusively online for the second academic year. Some students we do not even know by sight – only by their voices, like radio in the darkness. Due to the lack of electricity, even online classes have become a luxury))))

I live in a private sector. It used to be a dream: a fireplace, a dog, flowers… But already in February 2022, when we were first left without electricity for several days, my husband dismantled the fireplace and installed a wood-burning stove (we had dreamed of a sauna). Also, at the very beginning of the war, we bought a generator and installed fiber-optic internet – this greatly simplifies life and work.

It is hard because of constant stress: 24/7 you monitor explosions on Telegram, then wait for responses from relatives, colleagues, and students. It is hard to walk and travel along familiar streets past destroyed houses. It is hard to collect photos and create a memorial corner for fallen students, most of whom you once taught.

Today, what keeps me going is my family, the college, colleagues, students, and Progressive and Strong!!! There is still so much ahead!!!

I often have to work at a Point of Resilience – this is no longer about comfort, but about survival. Technically, everything is reduced to a minimum: I have a power bank, but it doesn’t last; the laptop can’t cope, and all that remains is a phone – the only tool through which lectures, teaching, and research continue. When electricity is available for an hour and a half, a painful choice arises: what comes first – work, laundry, or cooking?

Psychologically, this is extremely difficult. During lectures, my thoughts are not on the material, but on the children – whether they managed to get to shelter, whether they are cold, whether everything is okay with them. And when the message “Kryvyi Rih – urgently take shelter” appears, everything inside tightens. Because we all see and understand what stands behind these words.

Methodologically, we simplify forms but do not betray the content. We work in conditions of anxiety, exhaustion, and constant danger – and still hold the educational and academic front. Because even under these conditions, stopping means giving up.

What helps me not to give up? This is not an easy question. If I wrote about how strong I am and how everything is fine, it would be insincere – not about today. Because the truth is different: anxiety has long become part of my inner landscape, a routine background of existence.

Relaxing is almost impossible. I no longer remember the feeling of carefreeness – that state when you simply know that everything will be fine. In Zaporizhzhia, air raid sirens sound almost 24/7. We live to the accompaniment of sounds from the front line, which relentlessly become louder and closer.

And yet, searching for an answer to the question “what keeps me going,” I find three pillars: family, routine, and work.
Close people are warmth, care, and attention. They are my fortress, my protection from chaos. Meetings with family and friends, phone calls, simple messages – these seemingly ordinary things have gained weight and special meaning.
Routine tasks are something we often do not value or even notice while they exist. But this is where our real life lies. Losing everyday normality, we suddenly realize how little we valued our familiar, predictable existence. War has changed everything that does not depend on us. Therefore, what still depends on me, I consciously maintain and protect.

Walking the dog. Cooking. Fiction – only light, about happiness and kindness; emotionally heavy plots I cannot handle now. Kind, fairy-tale-like films. Favorite knitting. The ceremony of brewing tea and quiet moments alone with a cup.
For four months now, our routine has been dictated by power outage schedules. We live and work according to these schedules. I read and watch the news rarely – only when it is critically important. An information diet has become a necessity.

Work is my anchor in the present. Work is tiring – that is a fact. But at the same time, it helps me stay in the moment, to be here and now. It gives me the opportunity to focus on the main thing: what can I do? How can I be useful to students? How can I help them?

However, there is a difficulty that cannot be ignored. Resources and energy for new initiatives and projects are becoming increasingly scarce. Ideas and plans exist but implementing them is getting harder. I more often refuse offers and professional development courses – not because I do not want to grow, but because I simply lack the strength.
I long for rest – real rest, not for an hour or a couple of days. The kind where you can truly recover. Where you don’t have to think about what might happen. Where you can, at least for a moment, forget that the war is ongoing.
So, my formula for mental survival today looks like this: close people + routine + work.

This is not a heroic story about the unbreakable spirit. It is an honest account of how we continue to live and work in a reality that not so long ago seemed impossible. As a psychologist by education, I understand what holds me together is not superhuman qualities, but ordinary human support. It’s just that under extraordinary circumstances; they gain extraordinary weight. And it is precisely they that prevent me from giving up.

The Personal Front: When Hands Fall

Educators are also people who have children, elderly parents, and their own emotional limits. The hardest thing is not the lack of electricity, but the pain for loved ones.

For the primary and basic blackout survival kit of Ukrainian educators, I would take a stable nervous system and faith in the future – a happy, Ukrainian, and progressive one.

First and foremost, planning helps me. At home, we have a small charging station, so during outages we calculate its operating time. While there is enough charge, I try to work (right now we are planning a new professional development course). When electricity is turned on for a few hours, the main thing is to charge all gadgets and manage to cook food. The hardest moments are when there are no schedules and when Kyiv is shelled all night, and you have to stay in a cold stairwell on the 15th floor with a 10-month-old baby.

Today is one of those days when tears just keep flowing (and those who know me know this is extremely rare). In the morning, I realized that it hurts not because of me, but because of my small child. A dialogue within ten minutes… Liza is playing and banging something loudly…– “Sweetheart, take another toy” (I’m angry, my head is splitting… it was loud at night, no sleep, and scary!).
We go to eat, Liza doesn’t want porridge:
– “Liza, you have to eat it, there’s nothing else” (it’s hard to cook when there’s no electricity, no schedules, and everything runs on power!).
After all the stress, we went to another room. The child points at the window:
– “Sunshine, do you want to go outside?” (and it’s –10°C, icy, and it’s not certain the elevator will work – we’re on the 15th floor – because of power, generators, etc.).

I hugged my little one, burst into tears, and thought: “…we have to do something. And no longer just for myself and today. But for her and for the future”.

The situation is extremely difficult, both physically and morally. But there are duties, responsibilities, and plans. So, we work when possible, or when electricity is turned on for an hour at night (the perfect time to prepare certificates for members of the NGO “Progressive and Strong”).

What helps keep me warm on frosty days is tea with lemon from a thermos and the support of my family and my beloved, unbreakable, and sincere progressive educators’ community.

Professional Adaptation: New Methodologies in the Dark

How do you organize the educational process when neither you nor your students have stable connectivity? Educators’ answer: flexibility, trust, and simplifying forms to preserve content.

I am the Deputy Director for Academic Affairs and a lecturer at a pedagogical college in the city of Balta, Odesa region. For me, blackouts did not begin with darkness in classrooms, but with a sense of the fragility of familiar supports. When electricity, connectivity, and predictability disappear at the same time, you suddenly realize: education does not rest on sockets and platforms, but on people who remain in their place no matter what.

We went through periods of mass power outages in conditions of constant uncertainty, combining administrative responsibility, organization of the educational process, and direct work with students. For me, this was an experience not only of personal survival, but also of managing education in crisis conditions.

The essence of the work turned out to be the art of small decisions. We quickly realized the value of simple things: power banks, extension cords, pre-charged laptops, flashlights, and rechargeable lamps. We learned to count not hours of work, but battery percentages; to schedule classes with possible outages in mind; to shift the focus from synchronous online work to asynchronous tasks. Flexibility became the main technical resource.

Blackouts painfully shattered the illusion of total digital control. They forced us back to the essence of pedagogy – trust. My colleagues and I began to formulate tasks so that students could work independently, at their own pace, without constant internet access. We talked more than we checked, explained more than we demanded. And it became clear: in this autonomy, students often mature faster than in comfortable conditions.

The most difficult thing was not the absence of electricity itself, but the constant tension and sense of instability. As an administrator, I understand that others read my emotional state. Therefore, I consciously choose a position of calm presence – without unnecessary dramatization, but also without downplaying difficulties. We cannot ignore fear and fatigue, but we must not allow them to govern our decisions. We allowed ourselves pauses, acknowledged exhaustion, spoke about the “normality” of an abnormal state. In the darkness, human presence became especially valuable.

This experience taught me a simple but harsh truth: the resilience of education is not measured by the number of generators. It is measured by the ability of people to stay together, to negotiate, and to support one another. As an educator, I became convinced that even in darkness, education can continue if there is meaning, structure, and mutual understanding. And perhaps it is in such moments that we educate not only professionals, but citizens capable of withstanding reality. I clearly realize that we must protect ourselves and our teams, because an exhausted teacher is the greatest risk to education. And I concluded that our calmness, flexibility, and humanity sometimes teach more powerfully than any textbook.

Technically, simple daily planning helps me a lot. A short to-do list, priorities, and small steps instead of “everything at once.” Even when there is chaos around, a plan gives a sense of control, and I plan despite the difficulties because it restores a sense of support. Not only for the day or week but even planning a vacation for summer 2026. Staying busy truly helps – it allows me to gather my thoughts and not fall into anxiety.

Methodologically, I consciously prioritize my recovery and resilience resources, doing what nourishes and restores me. For me, these are close people, walks, running and silence, interesting new learning, and pleasant spa treatments. I use them regularly, not only “when things get really bad.” Everyone has their own resources – it is important to find them and systematically integrate them into life.

Psychologically, the greatest support for me comes from family, live conversations, hugs, and shared small rituals. I also keep my focus on basic things – healthy food, water, movement. Even a short walk or stretching brings back the feeling of life in the body and adds strength. And I try to improve my sleep, because sometimes, due to excessive busyness, this basic element of recovery suffers.

A Psychological First-Aid Kit and Sources of Strength

Where do we find resources to support others? Everyone has their own recipe – from breathing exercises to helping the elderly.

Since September 2022, we have been working offline. We got used to many challenges, but the period starting in December 2025 became a major test for us as well. Constant air raid alerts, which force us to spend most of the day with children in shelters, combined with constant power outages (sometimes lasting up to 20 hours a day), can throw not only adults but also children off balance. This is a time that forces us to unite and stand together, a time when we rethink our values and priorities.

What helps to survive such a difficult time? Probably faith in our imminent VICTORY, the open and trusting eyes of children who greet me every morning, and the support of loved ones. We even have our own motto: “Everything will be fine!” This is how we end our day with children and colleagues, and this is the phrase I hear from my family when I leave for work in the morning. And it gives strength to hold on and not give up.

Breathing exercises are great for calming down – such as “flower–candle,” the 4–7–8 technique, box breathing, and the “traffic light method” for managing anger. These are effective tools for mastering emotions. Today, when no one can feel 100% safe, during our constant trips to shelters, this is an extremely important instrument.

So let us unite, support one another with a reliable shoulder, and remember – WE ARE A NATION OF THE UNBREAKABLE!!!

Everyone has their own conditions. In everyday life, my advantages are a gas stove and water supply that remains available even without electricity. I compensate for the lack of electricity with a small EcoFlow charging station. I use it to power the router when mobile internet disappears. Several years before 2022, our entire apartment building insulated its walls, which today is a significant advantage.

Power problems require a high level of personal organization. So, if you plan your day as efficiently as possible and are ready to adjust, you can manage everything.

I teach at Odesa State University of Internal Affairs, and my students are cadets – future police officers. They see today’s security challenges and understand how prepared one must be. Therefore, they are highly motivated to acquire knowledge that will help them. On the one hand, I motivate them. On the other hand, I see before me a generation that is growing up inspired by the heroism of the Defense Forces of Ukraine today and is aware of its responsibility for the future of Ukraine tomorrow. And that already motivates me.

When it comes to psychological support, it is close and dear people. I am supported not only by attention to me. For example, I am happy today to help the oldest members of my family. I have a grandmother and grandfather who are 86 and 89 years old. Bringing them bread, milk, or medicine and seeing their smiles is joy and support for me.

Winter 2026 is still ongoing, and many challenges lie ahead. However, the experience gained demonstrates that Ukrainian education has transformed from a technical process of knowledge transmission into a phenomenon of social resilience. In conditions of total blackouts, when familiar support in the form of electricity and stable connectivity disappears, the main resource of the system has become not generators or platforms, but people themselves and their ability to self-organize.

The crisis forced educators to shift the focus from digital control and synchronous learning to a pedagogy of trust, autonomy, and support. For many, work has become not only a professional duty, but also a psychological anchor that helps preserve mental health and a sense of reality.

Today, the survival formula of a Ukrainian educator consists of flexibility in planning, preserving routine rituals, and awareness of responsibility toward the youth growing up in wartime conditions. The darkness in classrooms only highlighted the main thing: even exhausted and deprived of comfort, educators continue to hold their line, because they understand that their resilience and humanity teach more powerfully than any textbook.