A trip back to the Plains, to participate and celebrate in the wedding of a close friend and colleague ended with the sudden, shocking news of a former student’s death. The weekend began with the usual wedding festivities, with all of the joy and love surrounding everyone. The day of the ceremony, a beautiful, calm, sunny day with little in the way of disturbance. The ceremony beautifully conducted by the pastor. The happy couple beaming and finally relieved to be through the “ordeal”. As we made our last visit to the newlyweds, before heading back home, they received the news of a former student’s death.
We speculated, as to who it might have been, as no information was forthcoming immediately. No one knew for certain and we said our less cheerful goodbyes and headed back to the hotel room for the night. Later that evening, as I was checking social media, I found the information – information spreads quickly in today’s world – and texted the couple to ask if they knew yet. They had.
No one prepares you for loss in your professional life as a teacher. No college class covers “What to do when a student dies?” Very few professors, if any, dares to broach the subject of death, loss, and grief, except maybe the adolescent psychology professor. They only cover the ideas as presented in the textbook and as it relates to the students, not necessarily how you – the adult in the room – will have to work through the situation.
Often, when death occurs humans tend to follow the predictable cycle of loss and grief. Loss can be sudden (accidents/suicide) or not-so-sudden (cancer/illness), almost expected. There are moments of denial, anger, bitterness, grief, etc. finally leading to acceptance. As a teacher who has lost a student, this is usually how the scenario plays out:
You receive a cryptic email or phone message about “a death of a former student” and the need for an “immediate and impromptu meeting” the next morning before school begins. In that immediate and impromptu meeting, you receive at least the name, maybe a few more details, a script of what YOU are expected to say to the students as soon as school starts, and details about what services, if any, are available to students today. And the, off to your classroom you go, to prepare for the day. A day where you know no learning will take place. A day where you know students will be mourning their lost classmate. A day where you will be struggling to contain your own feelings, to be the strong presence for your students.
No one teaches you how to do any of this. No one teaches you how to go through the process of loss and grief when you have to stand in front of students and deliver the sad message to them, about a classmate who was loved and will be missed by all who knew her. No one prepares you for how to console or comfort those who will be grieving. No one prepares you for how to go through a school day when no learning will take place, because everyone will be dealing with death, loss, and grief in their own ways.
But, you forge on ahead, knowing you must. Your own grieving must take a backseat to the needs of your students. You share the news – and it’s okay to shed a tear or two – it’s okay to be human. You spend time discussing the classmate with students who want to and allowing those who can’t to leave the room and find a quiet space to grieve. You ask students what they need and provide as you can. You listen when they say no or nothing, but keep a careful eye on them. Your counselors are available today, as the counselors they really want to be. Other professionals may also be available, for those who need it.
The world continues to move on, as the bereavement period continues. Everyone grieving in their own way. You continue to watch each student, to ask if they need anything, to offer the support when needed. All while tending to your own sense of grief and loss.
Losing a student changes a teacher. It’s no longer a foregone conclusion that every student who walks through my door will remain as my student for a whole year. It’s no longer a given that every student I prepare for the future will have the long-lived future I dream and hope for them. The innocence lost once before in our own childhood, yet somehow regained slightly as a teacher, at least when we consider our students, has now been lost again. And there’s no turning back.
This is something I was not prepared for the first time it happened. It’s something I am still not prepared for today. It doesn’t matter who the student is, when a student is lost, it feels like I have lost one of my own family members. As a teacher, I take on the mentor role seriously with my students and it’s hard not to see them “as more than a test score” <from a former student> or to be a support for their needs – emotional, physical, and intellectual.
Losing a student is always a life lost too soon.
Other Resources:
http://www.nea.org/home/38144.htm
http://grievingstudents.scholastic.com/
http://neahealthyfutures.org/wpcproduct/school-crisis-guide/
Messages & Mindsets 