A few weeks ago I was eating lunch with a few of my former students and one of them asked me if I had watched “13 Reasons Why” on Netflix. I had seen a description of the first episode (“As the school mourns the death of Hannah Baker, her friend Clay receives a box of tapes with messages she recorded before she committed suicide”) and I just wasn’t intrigued. The idea of watching a show with such a depressing premise didn’t seem worthy of my time. However, this student highly suggested it and I almost felt compelled to watch it between her urging and my knowing of students who have battled with depression. The show’s social commentary on underage drinking, sexual assault, bullying, suicide, and access to guns is particularly intriguing in the sense that it ties these themes together to show how teenagers struggle to cope with their surroundings.
While it wasn’t a shock to me that Hannah committed suicide (since that was in the plot from the beginning), I was particularly disturbed by a major cliffhanger (or two) at the end of season one. With a potential school shooting on the verge of happening in the story, it just hit me hard. I happened to finish the final episode on Monday, April 10, hours before I heard of the school shooting at North Park Elementary in San Bernardino. At this point, I was becoming emotional as I couldn’t stop thinking about how these two situations collided.
All of us in education are familiar with the phrase “Code Red.” With it, we quietly hurry our students into the corner farthest away from all windows and doors, we turn out the lights, check the hallways, and make sure the door is locked. Code red, whether a drill or a real threat, brings fear, intensity, and times of insecurity. While I am not a parent, I have very parental instincts, especially when it comes to the safety and well being of my students. Each time there is a story on the news about a car crash, a missing child, a fire, etc. I just hope it isn’t a kid that I know. My heart obviously goes out to anyone involved, but I truly struggle when I know one of my students is affected.
Because of all of this, I find it imperative to have a backup plan for those moments. I spent some time over spring break updating what I call my Code Blue binder. Many of you may be familiar that “code blue” refers to the emergency code indicating a patient’s immediate need for assistance. The Code Blue binder serves the same purpose and can be used at times we need that instant help. This binder holds some of my favorite letters and mementos from students over the years. I find adding new material or reviewing what is already there to be therapeutic because when I’m feeling blue, I need something that can soothe me. Dobie Gray (“Drift Away”) says the soothing force can be the beat of a guitar, but my mind becomes free when I can drift away in the contents of some of those letters.
Those who know me well know that I am a minimalist in many facets of my life. I simply don’t like a lot of “things.” I don’t hold onto something unless it has meaning or purpose to me. I have this end-of-year tradition where I ask my students to write me a letter reflecting on the school year and our shared time together; I tell them that in exchange for their letter, I have written one to them as well. While this can be a laborious task for me, the investment is well worth it in the end. As a result, this minimalist has a box that is filled with letters from almost every student I have taught since my student teaching. Some of these letters make it into my Code Blue binder and are the key to lifting some of the pressure off of my shoulders in difficult moments.
So if you are having a bad day or you are questioning why you chose to become a teacher and you need an emotional boost, start creating a Code Blue binder of your own. It can be in the form of an e-mail folder (I have this too!) or a tangible version. It can consist of anything that you hold dear to you and should be in a place that you can easily access it for one of those times you are feeling blue. Because after all, my Code Blue binder “help[s] me along, makin’ me strong.”
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