When I was between the ages of eleven and fourteen, my school experienced four tragic losses. Two were faculty deaths and two were student deaths. From these experiences, I learned about how a student populace, as well as a school’s administration, handles the topic of grief.
The first death occurred out of school during the summer. Our math teacher’s cause of death was cancer, which wasn’t a surprise to many students. He had been gone for most of the year and so many were prepared, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less. We were informed via an email sent to our parents and were told to reach out if we needed any emotional help. This was a more private experience left to families to handle individually, rather than for students to work through together.
I was only eleven. This was the first time I knew someone who died, and so I was more shocked than anything. It was something I pushed out of my mind because, without other students around me to share my sadness with, it was harder to see the impact that would prove to me that he was actually gone.
There was a lack of community when he passed away, but nothing could be done about it. It was summer break, and so my emotions faded, never fully processed. I spent my time playing video games and writing poetry, trying to forget the fact that I would never see him again.
The second time my school faced a loss, we were told during the school day. I remember administrators coming to our class to inform us that one of our fellow students had committed suicide, my teacher allowing us to reschedule the test we had been taking in order to process. The administrators stayed in our room to offer us some support before moving on to other classes and other students.
I was initially shocked, unable to comprehend the fact that someone I had talked to, albeit briefly, was actually gone so suddenly. This feeling quickly turned to numbness as I saw others around me begin to cry. I tried to support those around me and shove my own emotions aside, but I inevitably broke down. The effect of losing someone still lingers with me today; I know that I’m more abrasive because of it.
Every teacher handled the situation differently as every person grieves differently. I remember a few teachers giving us busy work to keep us occupied. Other teachers allowed students to not finish classwork at the time it was assigned, giving us the class period to mourn. Some didn’t assign work at all.
The library was completely open to students to come and speak with counselors and teachers who were on a free block. The front office also offered to give one-to-one assistance.
I went to the library a total of three times, for periods ranging from an entire hour to only five minutes. The counselors offered calming items, such as slime and coloring sheets, and had various adults talk students through their emotions.
It was helpful to be surrounded by others experiencing the same thing; the process of comforting and being comforted was cathartic. I even made a friend through the experience.
On my last visit, I remember that adults were advised to urge kids back to class. I was sympathetically asked if I could attempt to go into my classes and complete assignments. It was the last thing I wanted to do at that moment.
In the end, I had to go back to class anyway, as the library was closed for our sixth and seventh period. The front office was still open to offer assistance, but all students were meant to learn for the last two hours of school. Because of this, most of our grief was shoved aside so we could focus on work.
The next day, the process of seeing a guidance counselor was the same as it always was — you had to schedule an appointment through the school webpage — and teachers continued to assign work.
The second student death that occurred that year, another unexpected suicide, resulted in the library staying open for longer. However, the acknowledgment of grief didn’t carry on for longer than a day. We received a packet talking about mental health and helpful affirmations, but trying to process everything healthily was hard when I had an ACE paragraph and a book project due the next day.
Suppressing my sadness in order to keep up with school had a negative effect on me in the long run. Since school continued at the same pace it always had, I felt like mourning for longer than a day was socially unacceptable. I was convinced that staying upset would make me a burden or a buzzkill.
When I was fourteen, another one of my teachers passed away from a heart attack. I had seen him the night before his death, as had many of my peers. Over the weekend, students tried to process what had happened. I remember fights occurring because individuals interpreted different coping mechanisms as disrespectful. Due to the stress of grief, it was easier for some to lash out.
When we returned to school that Monday, the only evidence that the traumatic experience even happened was a funeral invitation, lackluster grades, and the lingering animosity between students.
From these experiences, I’ve seen that schools typically handle grief well in the moment, but services stop for the long term. Homework keeps coming as those mourning are lost in the debris of melancholic emails and strained friendships.
This sparks the question: how can we ensure that students aren’t drowning in stress through an already difficult time? More broadly, we should ask ourselves: how can a school maintain its curriculum, scores, and students’ health simultaneously?
The answer is more complicated than it seems. Schools have to keep teaching and assigning work; even a week without constant productivity can push lessons behind, thereby increasing the speed of the curriculum later and simply deferring stress. Giving extensions to students, while helpful, means that everyone will be set at a different pace.
But clearly, some accommodations are necessary. A study by Purdue University shows that grief has a significant impact on a college student’s success. This same finding can be extrapolated to students of all ages and is reflected in my personal experiences and observations of my classmates.
The National Association of School Psychologists states that “grieving does not have a timeline” and mentions how “anniversaries, birthdays, developmental milestones, and other factors” can trigger grief stemming from an incident that could have occurred years before. I know for a fact that I still remember the anniversaries of my peers and teachers’ passing.
Unfortunately, a school cannot ensure that all its students maintain a healthy mental state. These deaths occurred when my peers and I were emotionally developing the most, and keeping all of us from being stressed and upset would be impossible.
However, there are ways we can support and educate students about grief so they can be more equipped to handle it.
When I faced these situations, I didn’t realize how many different ways people could grieve. I wasn’t alone in this — I remember my friends feeling insecure over how they dealt with their grief. I always thought that everyone coped by crying for a few days before suddenly becoming happy and acting normally. In reality, this is not even close to the case.
I also felt alone when I realized that people could talk normally and laugh at jokes while I was still suffering internally. My pain from these situations lasted for months. The same fear lingered in the back of my mind constantly: what if I’m overreacting? Shouldn’t I be over this?
If schools could offer even a little bit of education regarding how students actually deal with grief, we would all be less critical of ourselves and others.
Though grief is an uncomfortable topic to tackle, shedding light on this subject is crucial.
Just reminding students of the following things can help:
“You’re not alone.”
“How you’re feeling is okay.”
“I can give you an extension on this assignment.”
“Your mental health is more important than your math homework.”
Grief is something all students experience. If administrators and guardians could educate students on how we all cope and what we can do, the experience won’t feel so unbearable.
