Midway through my teaching career, one of my seventh-grade students took his own life. Had he lived, he would be long grown, facing the realities that come with adult life. Back then, our principal forbid the staff to talk about his death. She meant well, but rumors ran wild. Teachers were never told what happened or how to talk to grieving students. Some of us did it anyway. We got in trouble. It was worth it. The death was ruled a suicide, yet we were never to use that word.

Our student’s problems did not originate in school. He loved school. He had friends. He was not picked on. We knew he had suffered extreme and painful traumatic losses throughout his childhood. Yet still, as educators, we were haunted by the inevitable “why?”

Thankfully, it’s different now.The Perry district is teaching us valuable lessons in how to deal with an ugly and sobering reality. Children can feel hopeless and helpless enough to want to die. Mindful adults are listening, collaborating, and strategizing. There was no social media when I lost my student. We know it can be used for good or evil. It’s out there — unfiltered. As a district, Perry is staying on the high road when facing exploitative media. Collective grief is slowly binding and healing wounds. Students are rallying their boundless energy to “do something” to support the staff, the community, and — especially — each other. As difficult as it is, professional educators are respecting the confidentiality and privacy of grieving families. Those families own their children’s stories.

There were profound lessons in our student’s loss. The kids became kinder to each other. Teachers put books aside and took more time to listen. Counselors paid closer attention to subtle signs of stress and distress. We grew more intentional at noticing students’ strengths. A favorite quotation went up on our classroom wall with the words of Martin Buber, “But if a person carries his own light, he need not be afraid of any darkness.” We wanted our students to believe in their light — their courage and resilience.

We all have work to do. Schools, churches, neighborhoods and — yes — families. Kids spend seven hours in school. There are 17 more in a day. The Perry community has chosen beautiful words: Speak Life. Every Person. Every Day. We send prayers of peace to those who grieve and to the sweet souls of young ones lost. The hearts and minds of people who care enough to invest their time and talents loving kids are powerful. Children need hope. Especially when things go dark. And hugs. Every day.

 

CHRISTINE HAYMOND, JACKSON TOWNSHIP