Behind the Mask

Life: School Counselors

Counselors, in general, can mean a lot of things:

They are the people that help you get into colleges. 

They are the people that can sign off a Merit Badge for you. 

They are the people that help you deal with mental health. 

But, what I don't get, is when either is connected to each other. 

At my school, our Counselors are a combination of academic guidance, mental health, and social workers, essentially. 

Not a big problem, you think? Imagine this:

* * *

I was crying. My face buried in sweater fabric, thick comfort. My hoodie pulled over, blackening an already dark tint of hair. My skin, covered from head to toe, hidden behind a cloak of depression and self hatred. I leaned back. The tears vaporized from the halo light that peeked out from behind the head of one of the school counselors. She crouched over, and whispered softly. Only then, did I realize that I might've stepped into a trap. I felt cornered, as I had never been sent to the office for crying. Back then, counselors' office was an unspoken phrase. A forbidden cavern. 

(3 days later)

I was handed a pink slip. Written in pen, calling me to the cavern once again. I shivered, memory of the water, trickling down my face, my nose, salt mouth, and drip, dripping, and dripped onto the cold floor. I left with caution, my backpack smacking, my fingers trembling, and my heart beating. 

I stepped into grey room. Another counselor, Caucasian, closed the door behind me. Her knife hands, pointing to the chair, in front of her desk. This was the same room as before. But now, it felt different. This new one, although qualified in college applications and financial aid, had no sense of kindness in her heart. I could tell, when she asked me whom she could call, to talk about my depression. 

I resisted; the cause of my pain living right next to my mom. But, she called anyway. Legally, more important than the well being of an individual. The call, torturous to hear, pulled me deeper into the seat. I was in trouble.

* * *

This is an actual event in my life that occurred in the beginning of the school year. 

So, I ask you now, do counselors need to be both a mentor, and a mental health nurse? Do you think that its fair for a school of scholars to have a nurse for injury, but not one for emotions? Do you think that a victim of emotional pain should have to deal with a constant pressure of confronting their parents about it, even if they cause the pain?

I've only had to go once, but that's enough for me to say that mental health is so underrated in our society. No one cares about whether a kid stabs himself or not. But when they do, they call up the parents, so that the school won't get sued. Does it make sense, that a person you put your darkest fears and emotions to keep, tells another person about it? Does it make sense that I am later to blame for crying to myself? Does it make sense, that after a day of tension between me and my surroundings, I get YELLED at, for talking about my treatment at home?

* * *

The reason I brought this up, is that to a recent visit to the school's nurse's office, because of a twisted ankle, I thought about why the counselor that told my parents, the monster that put law before heart, was laughing in the teacher's lounge. Why she, along with other staff, were having the time of their lives. 

This entry is a reflection on how stupid our society is.