I am a school counselor. I have been for 13 years. I love the profession, I love the children, I love my colleagues. In 2 months, this chapter in my life comes to a close, but not by my own hand. In this time of budget cuts, my district has decided that the Elementary Counseling Program is among them.
I am heartbroken....and yet, through all the talks and speculation of the past several weeks, I carried within me a sense of divine intuition that I would not be returning to school in the fall. Because of that, I have felt assured (as I posted on Facebook) that my life is in the hands of Someone much bigger than my school board. Or any of the district administrators for that matter.
"I know the plans I have for you" says the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a future and a hope." (Jeremiah 29:11)
It was this promise along with the intuition I had been given that carried me through that difficult day of knowing the announcement would be coming, and then through the meeting itself. It helped me to comfort some others who took the news of my being cut rather hard.
The day after I was told of the furlough, I went to school even though I was offered a paid day off. I had a practicum student coming who still needs to acquire hours. I had a student who would be telling me the details of how she commemorated the 1 year anniversary of her dad's death the evening before. I had a reading club competition to attend and cheer for the teams I had helped to coach. I needed to show up for the work I love.
Although I am trying to operate on the premise that when one door closes, another opens, it doesn't mean I am happy about the news. It doesn't mean I have no pain. Quite the contrary. This is a huge loss ......and like all other losses, there is grief work to be done. I became aware of that the second day after receiving the news. It seems to me that when we have experienced a significant loss in our lives, sleep gives us a brief reprieve from the pain - and in those moments as we awaken, there is a window of time between that reprieve and the moment when the black cloud re-descends on our hearts. Friday morning, that window was indeed brief. I awoke with tears almost as soon as I opened my eyes. Grief had arrived.
It is difficult to say which pieces emerged at what times - it seemed I was awash with thoughts and realizations -some quite important - some would seem silly, but each one as painful as the last.
Being a school counselor is not just a job I stumbled upon while on my way to somewhere else. It has been to me, a holy calling. So much so, that I completely abandoned my first career to pursue it. I resigned my position, stepped out in faith, and began graduate school to intentionally become a school counselor. All the while raising two young children on my own.
This has been a career - 13 years is no small potatoes. I wasn't just starting out. I have developed programs, expanded my knowledge of the profession, served on the state level Governing Board, supervised 9 graduate interns and 2 undergraduate students and fallen in love with over a thousand children over those years.
The thought of leaving the children is the fastest tear inducer I am encountering as I walk this road of grief. I ache for the kids who are isolated by their disabilities or "annoying" behaviors - I will no longer have the privilege of looking them in the eye and saying "You know - I think you are a really neat kid." I worry for the ones who tell me things like, "I don't really think my parents like me" or, "my brother beats me up real bad at home"....when I know I am the only one they have trusted with that information. I wish I could still be there to walk with a little one to the cafeteria to buy breakfast because they've told me they haven't had anything to eat since lunch the day before. Or to advocate for the ones who finally will admit that math is a struggle or that they are being bullied, or that their parents are divorcing...Or share in the pain when someone tells me that their parent is going to jail...again....or is on drugs....again.......the list goes on and on. I shall miss the exuberant news of lost teeth and baby brothers and sisters, and the sad exchange of the loss of a pet. Or the hilarious answers to questions at Lunch Bunch - an event so popular some years that a limit had to be set for number of times one could attend. Or the classroom greetings - particularly the "bumps to the rump" and especially when one student consistently greets me with "Hallo - my name is Inigo Montoya......" I love these kids. I cannot count how many times I have thought I would love to take them home with me. I have no word to express how profoundly I will miss them.
One of my passions for 9 of my 13 years has been training and working with peer mediators. I am not naive enough to think that having mediators eliminates bullying or confict. But I would like to think that the 100 or so students who have trained as mediators over the years still have the skills to help themselves or others settle conflicts without resorting to hostility. And I dream that the students whose conflicts they settled at least came away knowing there are tools and resources other than angry words and fists to be pursued.
Our 6th grade Career Fair has broadened the horizons of students who previously could only think about being pro football players, vets, and cosmetologists.
Some of my students actually "got it" that your character really does count, everywhere, all the time.
I have delighted in directing a high school drama club for 9 years and even dabbling with an elementary group - and watched as meek and hardly audible students found within themselves a talent and a passion that allowed them to command the stage. I developed an after school program to promote resiliency in children who might be lacking in protective factors.....and partnered with a local college who provided college aged mentors - whose activities and relationships with "my" kids brought smiles to faces that typically remain closed off. I was bursting with pride on Thursday as one of our reading teams received a second place ribbon. It has given me a feeling of fulfillment to have provided door tags to a local nursing home for 3 years as a service learning project.
I could list a hundred other joys....suffice it to say that being with these students in all of these capacities, has been an honor . And I am deeply saddened that these experiences and the purposes they served are deemed not important enough to continue for these students or the future ones to come along.
It takes me a while to form meaningful friendships. I have finally, in the last few years, felt truly accepted by some of my colleagues. The thought of not being with them is probably the 2nd most painful of the twinges. We have celebrated birthdays, grandchildren, marriages, and 2 hour delays, raised a rucus in restaurants and picnicked together. We have grieved deaths of loved ones and worried about aging parents. We have argued with each other, prayed for each other, supported each other - we are a family. It is my hope we will not lose touch. However, they will move on in the things that brought us together....and I will not be a part of it. I feel a little like Frodo at the end of The Return of the King as he is being taken away by the Elves. His time in Middle Earth must be over because he has been a ring bearer; he has been changed. Since the close of the day on Wednesday, I have been changed. Others around me will still be concerned about room assignments, class size, supplies budgets, home issues, testing, after school activities and all the stuff that keeps the school humming - and I will be walking among them without being part of them any longer on certain levels.
I have already been surprised by daily details that come as a reminder that I have arrived at the end of an era.
I noticed the other morning that I have stopped counting down the days until summer. I do love the job - but it doesn't mean I haven't loved having most of the summer for personal and community pursuits.
I bought books at Barnes and Noble yesterday with the Educator Appreciation Days discount. I won't be able to do that anymore. Seems like such a small thing, doesn't it? The impact was big. It's a change of identity.
I have no place for my vast collection of M & M memorabilia that has been collected for the intrigue of the students who come to see me - most of which has been given as gifts.
I must now change my professional memberships to "affiliate".
I have resigned my position on the Governing Board of the Pennsylvania School Counselors Association.
I will have no reason to be watching the Stormtrackers Snow Report.
And I am keenly aware that I although I feel about 26 years old inside, my body is not that of a spring chicken and I am genuinely concerned about health insurance. Or the lack thereof.
This post is not intended to be a pity party. There are many who will be receiving similar news in the weeks to come in different districts, even different occupations. It is, therefore, a charge to anyone reading to please be sensitive to those close to you who may have been thrust onto a similar path. We all do this work (education) not for the money (God knows) but because we love the kids and we want to make a difference. To feel like the difference we have tried to make is non-essential is devastating. I do have other things I am actually excited to potentially pursue.....but I would much preferred to have had the choice of when that adventure would begin.
I have often found that when I have gone through dark times, I have become a wounded healer for someone else. I trust that this will be no different. I don't believe in pain without purpose. Every time my heart feels like an arrow has just penetrated it, I hope that I can find a way to make it meaningful for someone else.
It is my sincere desire to finish this school year strong - with integrity and grace, doing what I love and what I have, at least for a season, been called to do. And I may stumble in that endeavor, as the pain of my ensuing loss becomes too hard to bear. So to my family, my friends, my colleagues, I humbly ask that you be patient with me as I work through this grieving process. If you are a visitor to this post, I hope you will glean something here that allows you to help sustain someone you know.
One of my favorite scenes from the Indiana Jones movies is when Indy must step off the edge of a cliff onto a sidewalk that does not become visible until he takes that first step. Although I am not physically on a cliff overlooking a bottomless chasm, sometimes it feels like I might as well be. I hope that I am able to take that first step with faith and confidence and embrace the adventure that awaits with abandon......and with full trust in Jeremiah 29:11.
