[Pseudonyms used for privacy.]
“James, if you have time, I’d like for you to stay after class for a couple of minutes. Would that be ok?”
“Sure,” he said cautiously studying my face.
“Don’t worry. You’re not in trouble!” I assured him.
It was Wednesday afternoon of what had become a difficult week for me at the public high school where I was teaching. Monday morning my class had been interrupted with an email notifying teachers of the death of one of our seniors. It was a hard announcement to read aloud to my students, as this deceased young man had been my student the previous year. Rumors began circulating that it was a case of suicide related to the loss of a girlfriend. The school administrative and counseling teams swiftly came together to provide support for students and staff who needed time and space to grieve and process.
Tuesday I had noticed that James, one of my more solid, steady students, looked withdrawn and quiet. Well, everybody has an off day occasionally, and maybe he knew the boy who died. I hope he’s better tomorrow, I thought.
On Wednesday James looked even more withdrawn and gloomy. Given the sad news from earlier in the week, I determined to connect with him after class and see if he needed support.
The final bell rang, and the rest of the students left. James slowly came up to the front desk. Sending up a quick prayer, I sat down on my stool across from him. “James, I’ve noticed that yesterday and today you seem to not be your normal self. Is something bothering you? What’s going on for you?”
James hesitated, alternating his sad gaze between me and the wall as if he couldn’t find words. I thought I might know what was bothering him. Do I dare ask? I thought. What if I’m wrong? What if he’s embarrassed? Suddenly, the events of the week and of the student suicide hit me. Or worse, what if I don’t ask and he has no one to talk with? We can’t lose another student this week! I have to ask!
“Is it Lacey?” I asked, inquiring about his girlfriend. He hesitated, then gave me a small nod. His lip betrayed a slight quiver.
“I noticed that she has been ill for the last couple of days. Is that what’s bothering you?” Again, he hesitated, then with a trembling lip and a tear in his eye he slowly shook his head. A stab in my own heart reminded me of my own experience with the pain and loneliness of broken relationships. I swallowed back my own painful memories to focus on the moment.
“I’m so sorry. I can see this this is really hard for you. Have you talked with anyone else about this yet?”
He tried to gather his emotions. “Just my best friend, and he doesn’t go to school here,” he managed to say.
“You haven’t talked with your parents about this?” I asked?
“No,” he said, shaking his head slowly.”
My own eyes moist now, I continued. “When you are going through dark times, it is really important to stay connected with people who care about you. Sometimes, life is just too hard to walk through it alone. I’d like for you to connect with someone in your family—a parent, grandparent, aunt or uncle, or someone you trust—and tell them what you are dealing with so that you are less alone in this journey. Tomorrow I’m going to check in with you here at school and see if you connected with someone. Would you promise me that you will do that?” He gave hesitant nod. I believed James to be a young man of integrity, but I wondered. Did he mean it? Would he really do it? I prayed that he would!
With a few tears in my own eyes I stood and put my hand on his shoulder. “James, stay connected, and lean on other people for support. You have your religious faith to lean on to. You’re going to get through this. And remember, I’ll be looking forward to seeing you tomorrow and checking in with you, ok?” He nodded his agreement. I watched him walk away—a fine young man, wounded by life. I desperately hoped our conversation could help him hang on, even when his own heart was so broken.
I sat down to process my own thoughts and emotions. In the context of the week, I feared that James was at real risk, and I was one of only two people in the whole world who knew. The weight of his situation was heavy on me. Knowing he needed a broader set of connections, I reached out to his school counselor right away to alert her and called his mom to let her know that he had been looking discouraged for a couple of days. Later I followed up with a short, encouraging email to James.
Thursday I was so relieved to see him back in class. He still looked glum. At the end of class, he lingered, and I went to talk with him. “I’m so glad to see you in class. How are you really doing today? Did you connect with someone in your family like we talked about yesterday?”
“Yeah, I talked with my mom this morning before school.” I was relieved and pleased that he had followed through. I encouraged him to continue to stay connected, and that he would get through this. I told him a small bit of my own experience with post-relationship pain and recovery.
“I’ll be looking forward to seeing you in class again tomorrow. I want to check in with you and see how you are doing,” I said before he went on his way.
Friday finally arrived. There had been other difficult challenges in my week in addition to the student loss and James’ situation, and I was looking forward to the weekend. James came to my class the last period of the day. As I passed out the quiz that covered the week’s content, I saved his until last.
“Do you feel ready to take the quiz today?” I asked quietly. He nodded that he was. “Are you sure”? Again, he nodded, so I left a quiz on his desk.
There was extra class time left after all the students finished the quiz, and most students visited and talked together. I looked toward James and was encouraged to see him interacting positively with another student. I thought I even saw a tiny smile during the conversation, and just a bit of the missing life was returning to his eyes. I was encouraged. Before the bell rang, I made my way over to his side of the classroom to talk with him.
“It looks like you’re doing a bit better today,” I said.
“Yeah, maybe,” he said with a bit of a shrug.
“It was good to see you smile a little bit again today.” He gave me the slightest grin.
The dismissal bell rang, followed by the expected bustle of students leaving the room. The final bell on Friday may have the same tone as any other dismissal bell, but students and teachers all know it is different. It brings a palpable mix of anticipation for the weekend, relief, fatigue, and for some, uncertainty. I sighed as I began to let the stress of the week—a week unlike any other—drain from my frazzled nerves. There was one project I wanted to finish before I left, so I went back to my desk to sit down and work. I focused intently as I transferred data from a web page to a spreadsheet and adjusted the formatting for clarity. After about 15 minutes I looked up to give my eyes a break and stretch my neck. I was surprised to see I wasn’t alone. James was still sitting quietly in his seat on the opposite side of the room studying. Should I speak to him and interrupt him? Should I let him continue working quietly. I decided on the latter, but glanced his way occasionally to see how he was doing. He must feel safe and comfortable here, I thought. We each continued our work for a while longer.
After some time, James interrupted my thoughts. “Mr. Andrews, what time to you usually leave school?”
“Oh, it varies,” I replied. “Usually between 3:30 and 3:45, but sometimes later when I have something I need to work on. Y ou are welcome to stay until I leave.” And stay he did.
Finally it was time for me to leave. As we both packed up our things, he told me about his truck and his weekend plans to celebrate his friend’s birthday. “James, it is so good to see you doing a better today and starting to look like yourself again. I respect and appreciate you. You will get through this dark time.”
“Thank you, Mr. Andrews. It means a lot,” he said with sincerity.
I smiled. “Stay connected with people who care,” I told him. “Email me over the weekend if you feel like you need to connect. Really, ok?” He nodded. “I’ll see you Monday,” I said as he turned to leave.
I watched him walk away, courageously beginning to heal from a wounded heart, taking another step toward becoming a man.
It is often the case that we grow the most during the hardest weeks. This was one of those weeks. It was pay week, and on Wednesday I had received the usual email notification of direct deposit of my paycheck. Whatever the deposit amount was in the email, it wasn’t nearly as much as James had just paid me. God gave me an opportunity to be the one for a young friend. I’m so grateful that God is softening my heart, making me more aware of the heart needs of the young people around me.
Postscript
Less than three weeks later, I had some stress and trauma of my own to deal with. My father-in-law, who was in very poor health, passed away. My wife and I had been living in the same home with he and my mother-in-law, so the loss was felt keenly. I missed school for a couple of days while we worked through this loss together as a family. I returned to school on a Friday, and in each class, I shared the reason I had been out of school for a couple of days. By the end of the day, I was more than ready for the final Friday dismissal bell.
After the students were gone, I sat down at my desk to rest for a moment and refocus on what I needed to do before I left. After several minutes I looked up and was surprised to realize that I wasn’t alone. I smiled as I saw James still sitting at his desk, quietly working on something. He still feels like this is a safe place here with me.
A short time later, James gathered his things to leave. He stopped at my desk on his way out of the classroom. “Mr. Andrews, I sorry that it has been a tough week for you and your family. How are you doing?”
Emotion welled up within me as James returned the gift of empathy and compassion. My own eyes were moist now as I replied. “Thank you for asking. I appreciate your concern. We’re doing ok, all things considered, and our faith has been a real encouragement this week.” We smiled at each other—that kind of smile that wordlessly conveys real connection.
“I’ll see you Monday,” James said.
“I’ll look forward to that. Have a good weekend!” I replied.
I sat down again, reflecting on what had just taken place. Three weeks prior, I had definitely moved beyond my comfort zone, compelled by the Holy Spirit to walk alongside of James. And now, for the second time, I had just been repaid for deeply investing my own heart in the life of a young friend who had been sailing through rough waters. Investing cross-generationally required me to step beyond my fears, to rise above my own wounds, and to spend from my own time and emotions.
It was absolutely worth the investment! Be the one!
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“Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ” (Galatians 6:2).