Unexpected confessions

Phi Kappa Phi Forum, Summer 2003 by Stolpa, Jennifer M

Education & Academics

Mary is sitting across from me in my office, explaining to me why her assignments from last week are late. Her abusive ex-husband has been threatening her, and last week she had to obtain a restraining order against him. By the time she finishes her story, the professional exterior she had adopted to tell me about the situation is quickly crumbling. She is fighting back tears, not wanting to cry in front of her professor. Mary is probably feeling vulnerable because she has shared so much personal information. She says that she does not expect special treatment, but it was important to her that I know she did not just "blow off" the class work.

As Mary talks, I am conscious of my facial expressions and my intermittent verbal responses. I certainly do not want Mary to think I find this story shocking. I have heard others that are similar or even worse. However, I want her to know that I see her as an individual who is in pain, not just as a name or number in the class. By making herself vulnerable, she has demonstrated an enormous trust, and I would like to live up to that trust. I want to say all the "right" things. While I know I cannot fix the problem, I certainly do not want to make her life any more difficult.

When she finishes speaking, I will need to say something, and what I say is important. What I say will affect her not only because everything we say affects others, but also because of the powerful relationship between teacher and student.

This is a part of teaching for which I was not prepared, and it is an aspect of the profession for which I suspect most other teachers are not prepared. No matter how old our students are, the struggles and tragedies of their lives intersect with our lives in profound ways over the course of a school year. Whether students themselves share their stories or their parents tell us what personal events are affecting school performance, such moments often offer teaching opportunities that go far beyond the skills and ideas of a particular subject.

"My mom has cancer."

"My brother attempted suicide."

"There was a car accident. . . ."

"My depression medication wasn't working last week. . . ."

On any given day, any number of unexpected challenges may arise in students' lives, and because of the very nature of teaching, those same challenges will then arise in ours. Yet most of us are not trained counselors. What I know about dealing with life's biggest problems I have learned along the way from dealing with my own, but this experience hardly seems adequate for the myriad issues facing my students each week.

What is important for me to do or say in these situations? At some levels, the law offers us a guide as to what we must report, what actions we must take. However, to fully answer that question, I try to return to why students share these stories in the first place. Sometimes they want and need referrals to those trained to help them. Sometimes they are already getting that help, and they share these stories because they need someone else to listen. To be a good teacher I must be willing to take the time to listen to all that they have to say and in doing so show them that I value their individual life experiences.

Sometimes students share these stories because they want to explain poor performance in class. To me that shows a concern with my opinion of them. They want me to know that they are not stupid or lazy but up against a brick wall in their lives. Then my response needs to be more than just listening. I need to affirm my respect for them as individuals.

Sometimes students share their stories because they want a second chance in the class. Then I consider the situation and offer them whatever accommodations I can justify - extending deadlines or offering outside assistance. They may be reaching out to salvage something in their lives this term, and I try to give them every opportunity to do that.

Sometimes students share these stories because they want advice. They will end with a direct question such as, "What do you think I should do?" I usually have no answer. Instead, I try to ask the right questions to get them thinking again, or I suggest they try journaling. When appropriate, I encourage them to seek help from those with more experience.

I suppose there was no way I could have been prepared for this aspect of teaching. One cannot rehearse responses for the very reason that each student is an individual. No two life struggles are the same, and no two students approach a teacher with the same purpose in sharing their stories.

Those who have taught longer than I have say that it is always difficult to deal with these situations because there are no easy answers to life's biggest problems. They agree that a continuing challenge of teaching is not taking home the weight of students' problems, not becoming frustrated because we can offer no real solutions. They acknowledge that we need to fight the burnout that comes from seeing life's unfair treatment derail so many good students' potential to succeed.