Think of the student no one else seems to like, can handle, or understand? The one you've spent hours with individually, calming their meltdowns, supporting their heartache, or soothing their real life nightmares.
Maybe their families are working diligently beside you, but maybe they are no where to be found. Think.
Do you have that student in your mind? What about that student breaks your heart? What are your hopes and dreams for this student?
Whether they have been out of your life for a few years, or maybe you are still doing all you can to help them get through each day, I want to share a story of hope with you.
Recently, I was attending a local band concert where a family member was performing. When I arrived I found my extended family sitting in the second row from the front of the stage on the far right. Ugh! "What terrible seats," I thought. "This is just great. I will sit with my neck cranked back in some contorted position for an hour. All I can see is this weird stage protrusion in front of me." I told myself, it was okay. I was their to be a supportive family member, it was a band concert, not a play. My poor view did not effect my ability to hear. So what if I had a better view of who had worn socks or not and how many different shades of black band pants there were? So I settled in and began to review the program. A name caught my eye. Could it be? My unique seating did not allow me to see faces of the band members and I was eager to know if this name was the student I had worked with so hard, the one I believed in when others did not. Was this my student whose father left before they were born, who had experienced a significant and tragic death at a critical age, who was always in trouble with anger and hands and feet and words? Who couldn't get along with authority figures or other students? Who had few friends and no allies, just their mother, grandmother, and me. I couldn't tell.
Midway through the program, the stage needed to be reset. During the transition, soloists and small ensembles of students took turns filing onto the protrusions on either side of the stage to perform. There were students of all talent levels playing and it was amazing to see the confidence they displayed on stage to the packed auditorium. And then, four students walked out to perform an ensemble piece of Don't Stop Believin'. There was my student, right in front of me on the stage protrusion. I couldn't stop smiling. I sat up a little straighter, thankful now to be in that terrible seat on the side in the front. I willed my former student to see me. Our eyes met. My student gave me an enormous smile of recognition and a very subtle wave. I waved back. The music started and the tears began to flow as the memories and emotions of all the times we had spent together flooded my mind. Don't Stop Believin'. The angry outbursts, cursing, physically hurting others, the tearful phone calls from Mom, the behavior plans, the thoughts of, "Am I really making a difference?" Don't Stop Believin' ... During those years of our work together, there were moments I feared my student wouldn't make it, but we continued on. Every day. Starting new. Now, here they were, a talented and successful musician, making the honor roll, and loving life.
Don't Stop Believin'...
To all my School Counselor friends and colleagues:
I want you to believe your students whose lives are not full of holiday cheer can make it through each day and the upcoming vacation from school because of you and the emotional and physical support you provide.
Don't Stop Believin'...
I want you to believe every kind word, loving gesture, promise kept, moment of silence shared, affirmation of feelings, support of a dream, attendance at a game or concert, gives a student hope and a chance to believe they are going to make it. Don't Stop Believin'...
I know, there are moments you aren't so sure what you do makes a difference and you worry whether some of your students will even live to be grown. You fear they may end up in jail, on the streets, or so disillusioned with the world they have known that they will give up, never reaching the potential you know is just below the surface. I feel it too. I share those same worries and fears. But, keep doing what you do! Love them, support them, provide for them, listen to them and "Don't Stop Believin" you make a difference, because you do! You really do!
