A Future News Report
(This post was originally published on Adventures of an Ungifted Psychic, pameladellpalmer.substack.com, on April 8, 2026)
“This is P.D. Palmer reporting from Future Earth where today I’m speaking with one of the facilitators (we used to call them teachers) at the Washington, D.C. Remembering Center (aka Elementary School), and several of her students.”
“Hi!” I say, extending my hand to the young teacher. “Jeanine, is it?”
“Yes,” Jeanine says, shaking my hand. “Hello, P.D. Welcome.” She’s dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that says, NO LIMITS.
We’re standing in a grassy yard behind the lovely white-washed center, the back wall lined with a flower garden bursting with late spring blooms. A couple of children are tending the garden, pulling weeds.
Along the fence to our left, one child, with the help of an adult, appears to be planting vegetables. In the middle of the yard stands a wide pavilion with a pair of large picnic tables where three children are working on craft projects of varying kinds.
Two older children are throwing a ball back and forth in the grass, while another couple of kids are sitting beneath one of the trees, chatting and laughing.
It’s a wonderful, peaceful scene.
“The kids are a mix of ages,” I muse.
“Yes. We group them by interest and aptitude area. I have ten here between the ages of 8 and 12.”
“So, what are the children remembering today?”
Jeanine smiles. “I’m the language facilitator. Ultimately, they’re remembering how to speak all the languages.”
I look at her with surprise. “All the languages? What does that mean, exactly? Are they remembering what they spoke in past lives? But wouldn’t that mean they’re each remembering different ones? I’m confused.”
Jeanine laughs. “It’s not like that. I call myself a facilitator, but really, I’m just an instigator. The kids today are different than we were at their age. They arrived without the forgetting that marked our own childhoods.
“They remember how things were done in the distant past — especially in the Atlantean and early Egyptian times, as well as on other worlds.”
“Can you give me an example?”
“Sure. All knowledge exists in the ethers, but there are different ways to access it, depending upon one’s abilities. Some will download the information directly from the Library of All Knowledge.
“Others have the ability to share knowledge amongst themselves. Soo-jin’s first language is Korean. Malita’s is Nigerian. Mickey’s is a rare Amazonian dialect. By lunch on the first day of class, the three of them were conversing fluently, switching from one language to the next.”
“That must have been remarkable to watch. Or listen to, rather.”
“It was, but,” her eyes got a little watery. “It was even more beautiful to witness their joy. Learning language for them is a thrill unmarred by the struggle that I myself waded through in school.”
“So, it looks like I’ve caught them at recess?”
“Oh, no, this is how they learn best. They’re not memorizing, remember? The remembering happens most easily when they’re not focused on it, so they focus on something else, something they enjoy doing.”
We’re walking as we speak, and climb the steps onto the pavilion. I notice the children at the tables are all working on something different. One boy, who appears to be one of the older kids, is molding airplanes out of clay. One of the girls is drawing.
“So how does it work to remember someone else’s language?” I ask.
“Mickey? Would you like to explain the process to our guest?” Jeanine looks at me with a bit of chagrin. “The kids can explain it best since I do not have the gift for it myself. At least not at present. I’m ever hopeful that that will change.”
The boy working on the clay airplane stops and looks up at me. “It’s easy,” he says with a smile. “My soul asks for the language from the other person’s soul, and then I can speak it. And they can speak mine.”
“I see.” Although I didn’t, not really. “So, you can just walk up to anyone and ask for their language?”
The look he gives me is amused. “I don’t have to ask. It just happens.”
Jeanine tries to explain. “It happens at the soul level, so for the human it’s seamless. For these kids it’s automatic. I’ve seen it work with twelve children of different backgrounds, different first languages. There was no time gap. Immediately, they were speaking to each other in any of the languages in the room.”
“Doesn’t that get confusing?” I ask.
One of the girls at the table, who was maybe ten, shakes her head with an exaggerated eye roll. “We’re not thinking about it. We just do it. Grown-ups always try to think instead of just doing. That’s why they can’t do anything.”
“Malita,” Jeanine says with the mildest of rebukes.
“Sorry.”
Jeanine smiles with a shake of her head. “She’s not wrong. I know that I’m very guilty of trying to think my way through things, myself. Most of us who grew up in the old Earth paradigm are. We’re weighed down by all that old programming that says that learning takes time and effort. The kids today were born without that programming.
“Malita, would you explain to Ms. Palmer what it’s like for you to acquire a new language? Maybe help her to understand?”
The girl nods, then looks up at me seriously. “It’s like…it’s like I already know it. I’d just forgotten.” A smile blossoms on her face. “It’s so fun to remember another language. Better than getting a birthday present.”
“How many languages do you remember, Malita?” I ask.
“One hundred twenty-seven, but most are dialects, not languages, although I think it’s kind of the same. My parents took me to India last winter, and that’s where I got a lot of them.”
“So interesting,” I turn to Jeanine. “You called yourself an instigator. What exactly does that mean?”
“Why don’t I just show you? Kids,” she says, calling out to the ones in the yard. “Would you join us in the pavilion, please?”
The others run up and sit around the tables, a look of eagerness on their faces, as if they know what’s coming.
“Ms. Palmer is interested in how we work together. So I’m going to give you tomorrow’s prompt today.” Jeanine smiles as several of the kids bounce in their seats with excitement. “How would you remember a language that is no longer spoken on Earth, such as Etruscan, from early Italy?”
Two hands go up. Then three. Then seven.
“Malita?”
“I could find someone who had a past life speaking it and then ask their higher self for it.”
One of the younger girls says, “I’m downloading it from the Library of All Knowledge. Do you want me to speak it for you, now?”
Jeanine smiles. “Maybe later, Willow. Anyone else?”
Mickey raises his hand higher, then turns to me. “Languages talk to me. They have consciousness, like everything else. Etruscan is telling me that it would be really happy to be spoken again.”
He continues, “It wants Willow to download everything that she can about it, and then it will help Malita find a past life speaker. It wants us to all work together, and it’s going to help us remember how it’s supposed to sound.” He starts to smile. “I can already hear it being spoken in my head.”
My eyes are wide as I turn back to Jeanine. “That’s amazing.”
She’s grinning. “Right? Each of them will have a slightly different way to access it. We’ll spend the next week or two sharing those ways and by the end of this session, we’ll all be fluent in Etruscan. Well,” she gives me a rueful smile. “The kids will be.”
She looks at her students with admiration and affection. “You are all amazing. Just a reminder, though…Etruscan is for tomorrow, not today. After lunch, we’ll wrap up our module on Apache and Navajo.”
As the kids return to their activities, I ask Jeanine, “Do they learn to write in the languages, then?”
“Oh yes. You arrived during the remembering phase of the day. Soon, we’ll have lunch, then integration, which takes place during meditation or nap time. In the afternoons, they usually spend time writing, but since we’re finishing up a module, today they’ll share what they’ve been working on.”
“What if they need help?” I look at her curiously. “Do you write Navajo or Apache?”
She smiles. “I’m just a facilitator. The kids help one another.”
“What about other subjects, like math and science? Do they remember those, too?”
“Not this group. Most kids only have a true aptitude for one or two subjects. The rest they currently have to learn the old-fashioned way, in a more traditional classroom, though that probably won’t always be the case. We’re still learning how best to teach them, or rather, to help them access the information they need.”
“Is it possible for adults to remember like the kids do?”
“Yes, absolutely. It’s always been possible, but most of us grew up believing we couldn’t, so it takes a bit of work for us to rewrite that old programming.”
“Fascinating. Thank you, Jeanine, for this peek inside the remembering center.”
“Of course. Just remember…” She points to her t-shirt. “No limits. No limits at all.”