Teachers Anonymous: When help isn't there
Please note: This article is published as an archive copy from Philadelphia City Paper. My City Paper is not affiliated with Philadelphia City Paper. Philadelphia City Paper was an alternative weekly newspaper in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The last edition was published on October 8, 2015.
A new feature written by Philadelphia teachers, administrators and other staffers about their experiences in the schools.
One afternoon, about three years ago, I watched my student "Michelle" standing in our elementary schoolyard with her pink book bag and her little barrettes bouncing, waiting for her daddy to pick her up. Michelle had been born right after her father left for his first tour of duty in Iraq, and he had to experience her first year of life through pictures and emails. Now that he was back from his second tour, he walked his daughter to and from school like clockwork. He arrived that day at 3:09 p.m., as usual.
As I was leaving for the day, around 3:45, I heard far-off gunshots. Having lived in Philly for all of my 26 years, this didn't faze me much.
But later that night, my principal called. What I'd heard had been the sound of Michelle's father being shot and killed in what had probably been a botched robbery. Michelle had been with him. It had happened right in front of her.
My principal and I began to talk through how to handle this without the help of a counselor. Because of budget constraints, it had been a few years since our school had had one full time, and, as you may have read, the situation's only gotten worse since then. We talked until midnight.
I didn't expect to see Michelle at school the next morning. But there she was in the schoolyard, as if it were business as usual — though she was being dropped off by her mother rather than her father. Her mother told me Michelle had begged to come to school while she was out making her husband's funeral arrangements — it was where "I feel safe," Michelle had told her mom. "My teacher will protect me."
Michelle had always been a talkative child, and she acted like her usual self most of the morning. But around lunchtime, she suddenly laid her head down on her desk and refused to talk to anyone.
I did eventually get her to get up and eat some lunch, and called to see if Michelle's mother could come pick her up. The mother was still out making funeral arrangements, and asked if I could send Michelle to see the counselor. I had to choke out, "I'm so sorry, but our counselor is only here on Tuesdays and Thursdays." It was a Friday. Michelle had to wait for four more days.
You know what's stuck with me? That there was no way for me to protect that little girl from whatever PTSD flashback or anguish she was going through when she suddenly shut down. I had no idea how to help her cope with something that serious, and the person who might have been able to couldn't be there. A lot of kids bring all sorts of fears and trauma with them to school. How many others are suffering?
