Crossroads

  For the past four school years, I have been the K-8 counselor at my son's school. Every morning my "post" would be the intersection of the Elementary hall, Middle School hall, and Cafeteria/Common area.  That was strategic decision on my part and not just happenstance. This way, I could see and greet ALL of the children.  There was no way for them to get past without a "Good Morning" from me.  Hugs were often returned by these little people.  Well, at least the K-5. Of course the middle-schoolers were too cool for this.
     My motives were not entirely selfless or altruistic. I admit I received some benefit. There is nothing like knowing you made a difference in someone's life, even for 10 seconds.  I also was able to become intimately familiar with the other students and adults that would part of my son's life 7 hours a day, five days a week, 9 months of the year.  He could check in with me throughout the day and I could be aware of tricky situations he may be dealing with and talk about them with him. He has not been to a day of school in his life without me. (Yes, widowhood magnifies some interesting control issues in me.)  I have always been at that intersection for him as well.
     Fast forward to today, the first day of school for our community.
     Today is the first day I will not be at that crossroads.
     Despite my son's encouragement to "Just drop me off, Mom" twice, I went in with him to get him settled into his classroom. I knew the teacher, I was intimate with the classroom. I spent every day there last year doing social skills, music, or just pre-intervention. I just had to see him get into that room and get going.  As I was walking down the hallway, I was greeted everywhere by kids and bombarded at times with hugs.
    "How was your summer?"
    "Who is your teacher?"
     In hindsight, I realized those were not just questions to be polite and make conversation. My counselor mind was putting it all together, making sure these kids would be ok for the next year and looking at possible challenges. All within the 30 seconds of our interaction before they saw another friend they hadn't seen all summer, which is actually equivilant to "forever" if you're a second-grader. Immediately I am drawn to obviously new kindergarten kids who are clutching tightly to a big sister or brother's hand while rubbing the tears from the eye with the other. I want to swoop in and help them with their transition and take the time to help them understand that it is scary, but they will make it through. Occasionally a child would ask "So, I'm still coming in on Mondays, right?" or "Are we going to do that group again on Thursdays?". I had to tell them that another lucky counselor would be doing those things with them because I would not be there this year, at times fighting back my own tears and I saw a micro-expression of terror come into their face. Unfortunately, I could not introduce the new counselor to help them make that transition, because there is no new counselor.
     Although I had resigned my position before a change was made, the position of K-8 counselor had been reassessed from a 4-day-a-week need to a 1-day-a-week need for the children. Budget cuts was the reason I was given. (I will not rant in this posting of the plethora or assistant coaches they pay for a team of no more than 20 people that could have been cut instead of the professional advocate responsible for the psychosocial education of these 420 students. You will have to wait for that one:) And amazingly enough, they could not find a professional who was willing to drive out to rural Idaho one day a week to help these children.  In my mind, that translates to "There will be no one there to take care of the kids."
     Now, I hope that all my teacher-minded friends don't get their panties in a bunch (or boxers as the case may be). I am completely aware of the kind, compassionate nature of most teachers. I know that it can be a thankless job. As a teacher, you are now subject to 30-60 critics of your work as you deal with the parents of the children entrusted to your care. I also know the incredible pressures teachers have of being the one person responsible to insure each child in your care gets the education that is expected. And that is not easy. Teachers can be stressed. Teachers have bad days. And teachers can't be everything to everyone. That is why counselors were invented. And that is why I chose to be one.
     That is why I want to be at the crossroads.
     I almost ran to the office and told them I would come back and volunteer all the time that they couldn't pay, just to fill the need in the kids hearts as well as mine. But I couldn't.  I made a different choice. A choice that was Divinely directed. And so I am not there this year.  And that is why I am praying that the teachers of our community school, and schools everywhere, be given an added measure of compassion, and extra dose of patience, and the power of discernment to see into the eyes and hearts of these little people. I am praying that they might understand that they stand at important crossroads of these little one's lives and they might remember what matters most.
     Won't you please join me in this prayer.