It was Friday afternoon, and as the final bell rang and my high school students bounded out of the classroom, I sat down and exhaled. Relief, satisfaction, and a tinge of pride washed over me. I submitted all my grades, posted the lesson plans for next week, and even managed to place a grocery order and schedule my son’s doctor appointment during my lunch break. Most importantly, my students were safe. That week, I had 2 suicidal students. The first detailed her struggles in a piece of writing she submitted to me. The other just seemed off. When I invited her to stay after class, she quickly revealed her plans to hurt herself, as if all she needed was to askpermission. I was able to get both of them the help they needed.
I erased my boards and straightened my desk, so I’d have a clean space to greet me on Monday morning. Before heading out, I took one last look at my inbox. That’s when I saw it. The email informed me that I hadn’t completed the final step in my son’s school application; therefore, it would not be officially reviewed, and he would not be considered for enrollment. I completely broke down.
I often had to leave for work before my kids were even awake. I kissed them in the half-dark, said goodbye to my husband, and walked out the door apologetically, wracked with guilt. Life’s pace felt furious. I rushed to get out of the house in the morning, rushed to pick them up at school after work, rushed through dinner, and bedtime…