Shaken
Yesterday morning I had grade 7 gym first thing. This is a class I look forward to. The kids are so cooperative and enthusiastic - it's fun teaching them. Typically they all participate without much, if any, effort on my part. Yesterday, 2 girls weren't really into what we were doing. One of them found her way to the corner of the stage to sit by herself. Normally, I would cajole and convince and suggest until I got her moving in some way, but a few red flags had been going up about her older brother recently, so I went and sat beside her. She's a good kid - never defiant or hostile, usually at school, works hard, keeps to herself - she has never really been on anyone's 'radar' in any way - academics and behavior are not an issue.
With very little prompting on my part (I basically asked how things were going at home), she started talking. And talking. And crying. This part isn't that unusual. I remember being desperately unhappy in grade 7 at certain points, and I deal with tears weekly if not more often. However, what she said about home was enough that I knew she needed more time than I could offer - the bell was about to ring and I had to teach gr 9 english, for the rest of the morning, plus the administrators were both away so I was the teacher in charge if anything happened (and something ALWAYS happens). I asked her if she was hurting herself, and she said no. I figured that she needed a listening ear in a big way, but I wasn't immediately concerned for her physical safety. I introduced her to our guidance counselor, and went to teach my next class.
Just before the bell rang for lunch the guidance counselor pulled me from the other tit-for-tat-spat I was dealing with and told me that this precious child, this twelve year old girl, had a rope hanging in her closet and a suicide note written and that she was scared that she wouldn't make it through the weekend.
I called all the appropriate people and we got the girl emergency help. She's spending the weekend in a safe space, getting a much-needed break from the nasty reality of her life at home. After some confusion we unravelled a few more pieces to the story and now this family is on our radar in a HUGE way so we will continue to monitor the situation, as will other agencies.
The really terrible thing is this is not a unique story at our school. Yesterday was not the first time we've had to call in an emergency team to assess a child's suicide risk and it also isn't the first time those same teams have taken the child for a break from their life of stressors. It isn't even the first time I've been involved in this kind of thing.
However, I cannot seem to get out from under the cloud that has been hovering over me since yesterday afternoon. I can't stop thinking about her, and the weight of yesterday sits heavy on me. What if I hadn't talked to her? What if I hadn't gone to sit with her in the back corner of the stage? She had never talked to anyone about this and no one had ever asked her. There was no reason to, from what we could see.
Normally I'm pretty good at detaching from the school and what goes on there - too good, maybe. Sometimes I think I'm too callous about it. But this girl.... tears are welling up right now, and I already cried last night thinking about her. Maybe because I was in charge, I was handling it, and there wasn't anyone else to fall back on or hand it off to. I am usually good in a crisis, and can manage quite well - I think I did a pretty good job during the actual event, even. But after pottery last night, when I finally got home at 10pm everything I had been holding at bay all day came sweeping over me and I bawled. I even dreamed that Jake died and I cried and cried in my dream. This morning I woke up exhausted.
I haven't felt like this, either in a long time, or ever. I talked to her BY ACCIDENT. I could have just-as-easily not talked to her beyond 'hi' and cursory 'how's it going?'
And probably (hopefully), even if I hadn't talked to her she would have been ok. But the alternative, no matter what the chances were/are of it happening, is too brutal and pointless and horrible to contemplate. I don't know how to recover from this feeling - it feels like an intense 'phew! close one!' combined with 'head-in-hands-not-able-to-look-up' with a dash of 'it's-not-over' and 'WHAT IF' clouding the whole thing.
How do I get back to a place where I can handle problem solving and crisis management and not let it crush me?
Tonight I will hold my teeny tiny newborn niece (Jake's brother and sister-in-law had their baby last Saturday, how exciting), and she will snuggle in and make newborn noises and be a miracle, just by existing. That will probably help. But my student won't be far from my mind, either.
With very little prompting on my part (I basically asked how things were going at home), she started talking. And talking. And crying. This part isn't that unusual. I remember being desperately unhappy in grade 7 at certain points, and I deal with tears weekly if not more often. However, what she said about home was enough that I knew she needed more time than I could offer - the bell was about to ring and I had to teach gr 9 english, for the rest of the morning, plus the administrators were both away so I was the teacher in charge if anything happened (and something ALWAYS happens). I asked her if she was hurting herself, and she said no. I figured that she needed a listening ear in a big way, but I wasn't immediately concerned for her physical safety. I introduced her to our guidance counselor, and went to teach my next class.
Just before the bell rang for lunch the guidance counselor pulled me from the other tit-for-tat-spat I was dealing with and told me that this precious child, this twelve year old girl, had a rope hanging in her closet and a suicide note written and that she was scared that she wouldn't make it through the weekend.
I called all the appropriate people and we got the girl emergency help. She's spending the weekend in a safe space, getting a much-needed break from the nasty reality of her life at home. After some confusion we unravelled a few more pieces to the story and now this family is on our radar in a HUGE way so we will continue to monitor the situation, as will other agencies.
The really terrible thing is this is not a unique story at our school. Yesterday was not the first time we've had to call in an emergency team to assess a child's suicide risk and it also isn't the first time those same teams have taken the child for a break from their life of stressors. It isn't even the first time I've been involved in this kind of thing.
However, I cannot seem to get out from under the cloud that has been hovering over me since yesterday afternoon. I can't stop thinking about her, and the weight of yesterday sits heavy on me. What if I hadn't talked to her? What if I hadn't gone to sit with her in the back corner of the stage? She had never talked to anyone about this and no one had ever asked her. There was no reason to, from what we could see.
Normally I'm pretty good at detaching from the school and what goes on there - too good, maybe. Sometimes I think I'm too callous about it. But this girl.... tears are welling up right now, and I already cried last night thinking about her. Maybe because I was in charge, I was handling it, and there wasn't anyone else to fall back on or hand it off to. I am usually good in a crisis, and can manage quite well - I think I did a pretty good job during the actual event, even. But after pottery last night, when I finally got home at 10pm everything I had been holding at bay all day came sweeping over me and I bawled. I even dreamed that Jake died and I cried and cried in my dream. This morning I woke up exhausted.
I haven't felt like this, either in a long time, or ever. I talked to her BY ACCIDENT. I could have just-as-easily not talked to her beyond 'hi' and cursory 'how's it going?'
And probably (hopefully), even if I hadn't talked to her she would have been ok. But the alternative, no matter what the chances were/are of it happening, is too brutal and pointless and horrible to contemplate. I don't know how to recover from this feeling - it feels like an intense 'phew! close one!' combined with 'head-in-hands-not-able-to-look-up' with a dash of 'it's-not-over' and 'WHAT IF' clouding the whole thing.
How do I get back to a place where I can handle problem solving and crisis management and not let it crush me?
Tonight I will hold my teeny tiny newborn niece (Jake's brother and sister-in-law had their baby last Saturday, how exciting), and she will snuggle in and make newborn noises and be a miracle, just by existing. That will probably help. But my student won't be far from my mind, either.
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