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by Beth Houf
Every morning, we walk into the school building ready to do whatever it takes for students and staff. Every evening we head home. Some nights exhausted, some nights satisfied with progress, some nights elated, and some nights completely raw. And we build up walls. Walls that help us get through those hardest days. These walls help us survive. They help us keep it all together so we can lead. But the problem is this isn’t healthy. The trauma, the pain, the concerns are still there when those walls crash down. When this happens, those closest to us are the ones that suffer the most.
The walkie talkie went off relaying that a parent needed me immediately. I rushed down, we sat together and the next thirty minutes I attempted to keep it together as they reported events that I won’t share here due to confidentiality happening outside of school. The trauma shared was so similar to my own. My walls were building up. I was suppressing my tears. My heart was racing. I could feel my chest tighten. Deep breaths, adding another brick. Suppressing my thoughts, adding another brick. I went into my “survival mode.” Protocol time and taking care of business. Walls in place, back to normal.
A student came by for a goodbye hug. Foster care was not working out. Finding a new placement. No, Beth…you can’t be that placement. Know your limits. But wow it’s a gut punch to work through. Walls back up. Smile in place. Deep breath.
Another request for my assistance on the walkie. Low and slow, but I could tell there was something going on. I could hear shouting and started to run. It was evident immediately that the student was having a reaction rooted in something completely separate from school. Again, due to confidentiality, I won’t go into details, but I struggled, deeply to hold it together. My heart was breaking for my student. To hear what was going on in their life was devastating. And you would have had no clue, until that trigger happened and the student exploded. The walls this student had built up crumbled. We cried together, we laughed together and we slowly helped pick up all the pieces.
Not all days are quite this intense, yet others are even more so. However life is still happening outside of these events. The tasks of the principal don’t stop because of crisis.
So how do we thrive and not merely survive? Here are a few considerations that have been helpful to me:
We have to know our triggers that we personally have from our past. Do you have an ACE? (adverse childhood experience) Do you have more than one or many? How do these ACEs truly impact your life?
How does serving students and staff that may have a similar experience potentially trigger memories? Identifying triggers before events help to be able to come up with a plan for coping.
Who can you talk to to process through these situations? A loved one? Family? Therapist? Each person processes things differently, but it’s important to not bottle it all up.
How are you communicating to those closest to you what you are going through so that they are aware? I’ve had many times I snap at a loved one instead of taking time to help them understand.
How do you reach out to your supervisor to let them know what you are dealing with emotionally? I was scared for many years of appearing weak if I shared my struggle. I’ve found that my supervisors actually truly appreciate knowing what I’m going through so they can offer support.
It is OK to not be ok…even when you are the leader. We aren’t machines. We aren’t void of feelings. We are human. We have our limits. And sometimes we can’t get it all done, especially those days that don’t go as planned. But the wonderful thing is that we go home, we regroup and come back tomorrow to be the best we can be. We just can’t forget to give ourselves the grace we give to others and process through those hard times so they aren’t waiting there when the walls come down.