I think that I've gained some kind of reputation for my students that I'm the one they can "go to" with their academic and personal issues/problems/questions. With less than four years of working in a public school, I have lost count of how many one-on-one conversations I have had with students where there has been a combination of tears, hugs, and the revealing of critical personal information. I have called Child Protective Services more times than I ever wanted to, and I know that some of those made the situation worse...not better.
(Un)fortunately, I am not a robot, so I have not been able to deal with my students issues or problems without them compounding on top of my own psychological challenges. Sometimes, I take my students' problems personally--I've lost sleep over what happens to them and how helpless I sometimes am in their life when it comes to real issues.
Some days, especially this year, I have been overwhelmed by my own personal life with their lives piled on top. When my wife was in the process of miscarrying back in the fall, I was emotionally, mentally, and physically exhausted because I couldn't (still can't) process my own grief about it and then try to help guide these young adults through their own troubled waters.
How do I do it? I'm not even sure some days. Some days I don't think that I do it right. Some days I'm not able to be the penultimate educator because I'm trying to process my state of mind, my students' state of mind, or a mixture of the two.
I try to keep things in perspective. Are my the issues that students face real problems or are they the normal "growing pains" that we all go through in young adult-hood? If they're real I devote more time and effort to them, regardless of the student. Then I try to keep my problems in perspective; am I facing a real problem, or am I just overwhelmed by my responsibility and they will eventually come to pass? Once I evaluate this, I normally feel a little better.
Some of my students joke that I'm an honorary guidance counselor, that I handle much of the same issues for some students that counselors normally do. Thanks to some of the classes I teach, I'm in a unique position to talk about several things in class. Life goals, financial goals, home-life status, among other things. Some of these conversations are eye-opening. Talking to students about their homelessness or about how they are the primary financial provider in their home-it's amazing. Sometimes we see a student as being "bad" or "lazy" but some of them shoulder enormous loads and they don't have a chance to vent or relax outside of school.
Some of these students carry large chips on their shoulders, and I find myself wondering how I would respond under similar pressures. Some of them move on about their day as if nothing wrong is happening; other times, a student may go absent for a week because they are struggling. But this is why I do the work. This is why my classroom is sometimes seen as messy, unorganized, or less than rigorous. I spend my time getting to know my students, listening to their fears and hopes and challenges, and if instructional time must be sacrificed from time to time in order to do this, I'm okay with that.
It's okay to work with your students, colleagues, or peers through their issues or to help them solve a problem. It's okay to know that you need to take "mental health days" if you're feeling overwhelmed. It's also critical that you know what you can go through versus what you grow through. Part of instructing young adults is to let them know that, "yes this sucks now, but you're going to grow through this, so don't give up". Some students flourish under these pressures, and some fade away, and my heart breaks for them when they cannot see that promise at the end. Knowing that I've helped one kid or 100 kids is what lets me keep coming back day after day.
As a professional, I have to know that my patience and my own mental health is a finite resource and that it must be guarded. Some days or weeks I may be emotionally unavailable to my students, and even though I know they might need me or that I may come across as grumpy, it's my self-preservation mechanism. It's how I protect my mind and heart. Much of my life is balancing my mental health so that I may be available to my students but also available to my family. It's a difficult line to walk, but it is a necessity that I leave space for my family. They are my grounding, they are the touchstone in my life that I know when I come home, we can weather the storm together in our own imperfect ways.
I believe in grace, I believe in love, and I believe that if you can take care of yourself and be in a good place, it is our responsibility to bring up others. Life is too hard to do alone. So how do I do it? I realize that each day will dawn new and that I have in me an ability to help others--that's my calling. I do it because I want to be the person I needed when I was younger.
I hope this post may inspire you to reach out and help others in you own way.
Best,
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