My last two posts are meant to be a three part series that I will culminate by ruminating on a decision to stick with or leave my position at camp. There’s certainly much to update on after this summer’s events, everything from personal health issues to scandals at camp. It will be a thrilling dive into my inner psyche carefully weighing each decision and potential consequences with perhaps deep applications to you, the readers. At least that’s what it’ll be in my head. Not to add more insult to injury, but this post is not that post. Consider this paragraph a trailer, if you will.
This post will instead be another anecdote from my role as a school social worker that I want to remember:
Towards the beginning of the school year, one of my assistant principals let me know that they were going to be starting a Student Advisory Committee where selected students would be able to share concerns to the administration and have a voice in shaping school wide decisions over the course of the year and beyond. They would accept nominations from teachers and then meet regularly throughout the year with those selected. It sounds a lot like what an elected student council should do in theory, but our student council is run as an irrelevant side quest of an absolute maniac of a teacher with whom I have the displeasure of working. Thankfully, most school staff are a distinct pleasure to work with, but perhaps that will be another future post.
The assistant principal nonchalantly remarked that she was worried they would only get nominations for the “perfect angel” students that are consistent Student of the Month recipients and are already involved and recommended for everything the school has to offer. I don’t think her comment was entirely intended for me, but I took it as a challenge.
She’s right, though… It is hard being a teacher and I have plenty of respect for and do not envy their crucial role, but there is no way they are going to think of the kids that act up in class, get in trouble, and never do their work when asked about this committee. However, that would not be a representative sample of the school if it was just the “perfect” kids. The kids that get good grades, stay out of trouble, and are involved in everything are the one’s for which the school is already succeeding. But, if our goal is to make our school better, wouldn’t we have to talk to those that are not doing as well? To fix a problem, you have to talk to those whom the problem is most affecting.
I tend to have the most empathy and success working with the “bad” kids (Authors Note: it is only with extreme sarcasm that I use words such as “bad” or “perfect” to describe children… They’re children, I mean c’mon). Thankfully, I have many extremely positive relationships with some of the frequent flyers in the principal’s office and detention rooms— though some teachers may think I’m too soft on them, I wear this as a badge of honor and as a sign of success in my role. Considering this, when my assistant principal talked about wanting more than just the “perfect angels”, my mind went straight to a student whom we will call Ash.
Ash is now an eighth grader and is undoubtedly one of my favorite students (yes, having favorites is bad, but I’m only human). I first met Ash when she was in sixth grade and we have been on an absolute roller coaster since… Throughout all of sixth grade, Ash was almost always at the center of any drama, issue, argument, or problem with other students. She developed a bad reputation amongst other students and unfortunately amongst many school staff members… I’ve often said that I think the majority of where her problems come from is the fact that Ash is genuinely hilarious, and she knows it. Despite her persona and troubles with self-regulation, Ash is a kind student that I am convinced is capable of great things.
Ash got tired of being the center of all this drama towards the end of sixth grade, and I believe genuinely wanted to change heading into seventh. Tragically, she got paired with a team of teachers that made a spreadsheet with all of their student’s names, copied and pasted their referrals/discipline records into, and color coded them based on how much of a problem they anticipated these students being. Ash was color coded red… They never even gave her a chance.
One of the many issues with this spreadsheet was that, perhaps naively unbeknownst to the teachers, this color coded system colored the way they interacted with all students on their list. The students in green were the favorite kids, recommended for all honors, awards, and recognitions. The students in red were treated with caution at best and contempt at worst before they even had a chance to make their own impressions.
Kids can tell whether or not you like them… And kids will react to you differently if they can tell you don’t like them. With all of the students in red, these teachers had created self fulfilling prophecies that would cause them trouble all year long— a cruel irony since I will stake my entire credibility on the fact that it was these teachers that caused this trouble in the first place.
I spent the whole year advocating for Ash and the other students in red… They were the overlooked, misunderstood underbelly of our education system— those who are rarely given the support needed at home and never given the support needed at school. These are students at crucial developmental moments desperately in need of someone just to believe in them. To her credit, overall, Ash’s seventh grade year went much better than the previous year, but the damage was done.
Ash is an endearing, social person. A natural leader that is unfortunately plagued by the same feelings of incapability I’ve written about with other students. She cares about others and wants to be successful in school and beyond, but often is unable to see how to do so… I thought she would be perfect for the advisory committee, so I submitted my own nomination.
I hadn’t heard about the advisory committee for almost a month until an after school all staff meeting this past Wednesday in which our assistant principal shared the good news that all students that were nominated were informed of such that day. She said that all the students were thrilled to hear of who nominated them and why, and she shared a particular anecdote about a student that saw everyone else that was nominated and said, “I don’t think I should be here, these are all the good kids.” The assistant principal said that after hearing about who nominated her and why, the student was thrilled, albeit a little nervous. She didn’t tell the whole staff who it was, but I knew she was talking about Ash.
After confirming my suspicions, I had a chance to speak with Ash the next day after she turned in her permission slip to participate in the committee. She was absolutely elated in such a way that I have never seen another student beam quite so much.
She told me that when one of her teachers heard that she was nominated the teacher asked her, “Why would anyone nominate you for that?”… I truly hope that’s not exactly what was said because I am about to go on a warpath through our school for anyone that wants to tear down students in such a fashion. I was livid that this was said in the first place, but it clearly did not even phase Ash because no matter what that particular teacher thought she was still chosen for this honor.
“Why did you nominate me for this?” she asked, with a tone betraying the underlying feelings of incapability.
“Because you matter. Your thoughts, opinions, and perspective are going to be uniquely different than most of the other kids chosen. Now, you have the opportunity to help make our school a better place for everyone because your opinions and your experience matters,” I replied.
I could see it in her eyes, she got it. I have spent many social work sessions attempting to convince her of her own self worth and that the feelings of incapability are lies, and that she was capable of surpassing everyone else’s expectations of her. This was what finally sealed the deal. She got it!
I want to hold onto this moment forever, for this is why I do what I do. This epiphany was not because of any excellent intervention or incredible skill I could impart, but simply because I believe in her. Ash matters, and now she knows that someone else believes she matters. Oftentimes, that’s all it takes. Despite all the frustrations and roadblocks in working in the social work profession particularly in schools, moments like these make every adversity worth it.
Who cares about the people that nobody cares about? Who thinks about the ones cast out and looked down on by the larger portion of society? Who looks out for them?
Will it be you?
[title pending] 