An Open Letter to School Boards Everywhere

To School Boards Everywhere:

My name is David James.  I am a teacher and coach at College Park High School in The Woodlands, Texas, part of the Conroe Independent School District.  I was hoping that I might have a few minutes of your time.  I would like to talk to all of you about suicide.  I know it is not a popular topic, and honestly, it is not an easy to talk about, and in some areas, it may even be taboo, but it is one that must be addressed, and you, as school boards have an obligation to the students of your districts. The majority of their parents voted for you, so you have an obligation.

I realize this may not be the best time for many of you.  It is January, and for all the districts in Texas, that means that STAAR testing is just two and a half months away, in Massachusetts, the first part of the MCAS is less than a month away, our neighbors to the far north in Alaska will be getting AMPed up in March, and in the Heartland, Nebraskans will be looking forward to (or dreading) the NeSA. These tests are serious business.  For some students, they determine if students should repeat a grade, and for others, if they will graduate. I know that high stakes testing is a big deal to many of you. After all, accountability ratings are important, as are state funds, but kids can't be tested if they are no longer with us.

I speak from experience when I say this.  I lost my 13 year old son Peyton in October of 2014 after he hung himself.  He was an eighth grader at Forbes Middle School in Georgetown, Texas.  In no way am I abdicating my parental responsibility.  Peyton's mother and I knew Peyton was suffering emotionally.  He was diagnosed with depression and anxiety.  We got him into counseling, and, through his doctor, were trying to find medications to help, but had not found one that provided the desired results.  Unfortunately, we seem to be the exception, not the rule.  Since Peyton's death, I have talked to other parents who lost children to suicide, and the most common threads in the narratives were "We never saw it coming" or "We had no idea our child was suicidal" and "They always seemed so happy."

To many, it may seem puzzling that these parents were in the dark about their children, and it is easy to dismiss these parents as neglectful, but one of the many things I have learned over my 25 years as an educator, kids are really good at hiding things, especially when it comes to mental health. Students in class rooms across the country, including your district, suffer in silence.  They know that something is wrong with them, but they don't know what.  They look around the room and mistakenly think they are the only one that feels different.  They fear saying anything because they don't want to be ostracized or humiliated by their peers.  They don't want to talk to talk to teachers, or counselors, or administrators for the same reasons.  Well, that, plus we are adults, which means we would never understand.

Because education has become data driven, here is some data provided by the #JasonFoundation and the Centers for Disease Control (CDC):

• Suicide is the SECOND leading cause of death for ages 10-24. (CDC)
• Suicide is the SECOND leading cause of death for college-age youth and ages 12-18. (CDC)
• More teenagers and young adults die from suicide than from cancer, heart disease, AIDS, birth defects, stroke, pneumonia, influenza, and chronic lung disease, COMBINED.
• Each day in our nation there are an average of over 5,400 attempts by young people grades 7-12.
• Four out of Five teens who attempt suicide have given clear warning signs
• Over the past decade, however, the rate has again increased to 12.1 per 100,000. Every day, approximately 105 Americans die by suicide. (CDC)
• There is one death by suicide in the US every 13 minutes. (CDC)
• 16% of students reported seriously considering suicide. (CDC)
• 13% of students reported creating a plan. (CDC)

In addition, according to the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFSP), "At least 90 percent of all people who died by suicide were suffering from a mental illness at the time, most often depression. Among people who are depressed, intense emotional states such as desperation, hopelessness, anxiety, or rage increase the risk of suicide. People who are impulsive, or who use alcohol and drugs, are also at higher risk."If you walk into almost any classroom at any high school or middle school, you will easily find students that fit that description.

The same weekend that we lost Peyton, a junior at Georgetown High School took his life.  Since then, I personally know of SEVEN student suicides just within Texas.  The ages ranged from a ten year old in San Antonio to a senior in Rogers.  The two most recent taking place here in the Woodlands within two weeks of each other. Through various message boards, Facebook groups, and the #PeytonHeartProject, I have been lucky to talk to parents across the country and around the world.  To a person, we all agree that more can, and should, be done to educate not only students, but their parents (we grew up in an age when no one spoke of such things and could use the help). 

So what can a school board do?  Some states have enacted the #JasonFlattAct, that require regular training for teachers and staff in suicide recognition and prevention.  If such a law exist in your state, make sure that it is followed and implemented.  If not, lobby your state officials to pass such a law (such laws can be enacted with ZERO fiscal note).  Even if there is no state law, what is to stop you from implementing policy locally?  You could bring in experts from the community to speak to the students and/or the parents.  You can enact programs designed to give students a safe place to go where they can talk to some one trained to deal with these problems.  Yes, I understand that some of these things cost money, but is some one really going to complain that you are trying to save lives?  

I know I have presented quite a bit for you to think about.  I also know that there are people on the board or in the community that will disagree.  They will say it is the responsibility of the parents to deal with the issue of suicide, and that schools should just stay with teaching core subjects and how to pass the state mandated standardized tests, but they are wrong.  Mark Twain once said, "God made the Idiot for practice, and then He made the School Board."  I want you to do the right thing and prove him wrong.  After all, we can't teach them if they aren't there.  

Sincerely,

David James

Tragedy Strikes Yet Again

Bad news isn't wine. It doesn't improve with age.-Colin Powell

Godfather 3 was unmemorable for many reasons.  Those of us that loved the first two movies and can discuss and quote them religiously were highly disappointed.  However, there is one line when family patriarch Michal Corleone says"Just when I thought I was out, they pull me back in." That would have been me this past Monday night.

I was busy doing nothing when I received a text from one of the other coaches.  One of the cheerleaders at College Park High School, where I teach and coach, had attempted suicide, had been taken by Life Flight to the Texas Medical Center, and was listed in critical condition.  I was warned by others at the school based upon my past.  The last thing they wanted me to walk in on Tuesday morning was news of another attempted suicide.

I could have called in sick, taken the day off, and no one would have blamed me.  Before school started, counselors and administrators began to look for me to make sure I was ok.  Did I need my classes covered?  Is there anything they could do for me?  I asked them to read the principal's announcement to my 2nd period class, but that was it.  The rest of the day, I wanted to be there for my students.  I wanted to talk to them, to let them know that it was okay to be mad, scared, confused, or any of the myriad of other emotions that were over taking them at that moment.  I needed to tell then that it was nobody's fault, that based on percentages, the young lady most likely suffered from some type of mental illness, and that they could openly talk, cry, or scream.  I talked to them about Peyton and my experiences.  I told them to ignore rumors from people, and not believe what they hear floating around in the hall.  I told them to be patient, as news would be forthcoming eventually, but that it takes time.  I asked them to pray if they were religious, and send positive thoughts and wishes if they weren't. I told them what I had been told while Peyton lay in his hospital bed, that the next 72 hours were crucial.  Finally I told them to hope for the best, but be prepared for the worst.

I tried my best to find reliable sources that would give me any information to help me process the events.  In my own way, I needed details.  By no means am I an expert, but I have an unfortunate knowledge of a similar situation.  As I mentioned before,  I had learned about the 72 hour window, the damage to the brain when deprived of oxygen, how it dies from the top down, how the brain stem controls the most basic functions such as breathing, heartbeat, swallowing, and reaction to pain.  How doctors will test this part of the brain for reactions to stimuli, and the news they give when when those tests produce no results.  I also knew that news would be slow in coming, that caution would prevail, that  doctors would be neutral and try not to give hope if there was none.

Several days have passed  since I began this entry, and I am once again the bearer of bad news.  The young lady I spoke of, Cassidy Hess, passed away on Sunday, December 20, 2015.  I hop that she has found the peace that eluded her in life.

In fact, and I sit here and write this, I have received word that a 2015 graduate may have taken his life last night.  Tragedy strikes yet again.

Onward Through the Fog

"Onward through the fog" -Oat Willie's Slogan

I never thought that this would apply to me.  See, #OatWillie's is a headshop (of which they are proud) in Austin, Texas.  They were around long before I attended the University of Texas, and are still there today.  If interpretation is based on your knowledge of their inventory, then it is pretty easy to apply meaning to their slogan.  However, in the year since Peyton's suicide. I have begun to se it differently.

The fog is what many of the survivors live in, especially for the first year after the suicide of a loved one.  The fog seems to envelop everything we do.  We forget things that happened recently as well as long ago, as well as names and faces.  Events that once held relevance, such as our own birthday, Thanksgiving and Christmas, no longer do, On the other hand, new things such as the birthday of the lost soul and the monthly anniversary of their passing, develop great meaning.  We count off the number of days, weeks and months since they left us, much as one does with the birth of a new born child.  We begin to dread any day that marks a new milestone, such as their first birthday since their death, or what would have been the day they graduated. We tend to look at others, and try to understand how their lives can go on when ours have been tragically impacted.

As survivors, we are left behind to pick up the pieces of our lives.  Some of us become advocates for the dead.  Because of the pain we live with,  we vow to keep the same from happening to some one else.  Some of us withdraw from society, we become Boo Radley or Miss Havisham, shutting off contact to the outside world and locking the door behind us.  Others climb inside a bottle, bong or syringe.  We long to banish the incredible pain that we live with daily.  Others will follow in the steps of their loved ones and are driven to join them rather than live without them.  Regardless of which path we choose, we are surrounded on all sides by the fog.

Unfortunately, like any fog, the survivor's fog begins to burn off.  As it dissipates, we begin to truly see again.  What had once shielded us from painful reality, is gone, and we are left to deal with what is truly before our eyes.  The empty room we walked by is now a clear vision of what will never be, as we look at the trophies that whisper of the lost potential.  We see the last picture that we ever took, and realize there will be no more, that they are going to be, in my case, Forever 13.  We hear about the achievements of others and are left to wonder "what if?". The more fog that burns off, the greater the reality becomes.  The pain that we thought we had learned to cope with comes back in waves. Once again, we don't want to get out of bed, we break down at the songs on the radio, and we look for answers that will never come.

Now I am dealing with the pain all over again.  I find myself crying over little things such as Peyton's final school picture over the stairs .  I have a huge pit in my stomach as Christmas approaches.  I have even started to lose interest in things that once brought me comfort.  As we creep closer to the holidays, I am not looking forward to time with family, presents or good cheer, but the time to be alone and envelope myself in silence, and lose myself in a video game, movie or book.  Something that will make the hours pass while my mind is some where else other than the loss of my only son.

Now I am faced with the task of dealing with all the obstacles that I blindly ran into during the first few weeks and months after Peyton's death, only this time, they are vivid reminders of what happened, "“So [I] beat on, boat against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”

Dear H, I Heard About Your Death

Dear H,

I heard about your death this past Sunday.  Needless to say I was saddened to hear that you had chosen to end your life.  I didn't know you personally, but in a way, I know who you are.  You are the 13 year old boy from Georgetown, Texas with red hair, freckles, and striking blue eyes.  You are the beautiful blond cheer leader from Trumbull, Connecticut.  You are the gifted Academy Award winning actor/comedian.  You are the brilliant writer and leader of the Modernist movement in literature.  You are the musician from Seattle that created a new sound for a generation.

Your death was hard for me to take.  When I was informed of your death, I looked you up on social media.  I read the posts that your friends, classmates, and strangers, had left for you.  You are loved by your friends.  You were the one that made them laugh.  You were the star that shone so brightly for them.    Your classmates wish they had known you better, had gotten to know you better, or talk to you more.  They liked your sense of humor and ever present smile.  Total strangers expressed their sympathy for you and your family.

In a school of more than 4,000 students, there were many students who didn't know you, but your death has had a profound effect on them.  For many, you were the first person they know who died. Even more profound, was how you died, at your own hands.  You made them think about their own mortality, their own frailty.

You also left many asking, "why?" If some one that seemed to have it all would take her life, then what hope do they have?  The "why?" is simpler than it seems, at least to people who understand.  The desire to end your pain was greater than your will to live, and you are not alone.  Although the pain wasn't physical, it was equally as painful and just as debilitating. Judging by your friends' responses and posting, they didn't know you were in pain.  Like so many who suffer from this pain, you kept it hidden.  Perhaps you were afraid to speak out because you thought you were the only one that felt that way, or that no one would understand. Maybe you did say something, and you were told it was a phase you were going through, or that you will get over it.  There's even a chance your friends knew, but did nothing because, as a society, we aren't old how to help people that are hurting like you, and as a community, we are led to believe that everything is perfect, and that problems like yours only exist in "other" places.   If you did seek help, there is always that chance that no matter what you tried, it didn't seem to work, or you didn't click with the counselor. Regardless of the reason, people need to know that it wasn't their fault, which is something that took me so long to understand after Peyton's death.

Now parents, siblings, relatives, friends, and total strangers are left behind to pick up the pieces of their lives.  They must learn to adjust to life without you.  All the people you thought would be better off  without you will never get over you or stop thinking about you.  Instead, they will have a void that will never be filled.  They will go about with their everyday lives, but not a day will pass without thinking about you.  Perhaps a song on the radio, a smell from the kitchen, or a glimpse of a total stranger in public will some how trigger a memory of you.  They will have to sit down and collect themselves, catch their breath, or even cry, and that's okay.  Eventually they may be able to deal with the gaping hole in their lives, but they will never be the same.
Perhaps they will even come to realize that if you had known the pain your death would cause, you never would have taken your life.

In closing, allow me to say that I hope you found the peace you were looking for, and to paraphrase Kurt Vonnegut, I hope that where you are, everything is beautiful, and nothing hurts.

Rest in Peace Young Lady

 "Things just seemed to go too wrong too many times"- Tony Hancock

it happened again. Another young person in our "perfect" community has taken their life.  

I received the news last night about this tragic loss, and have processing the news in my head over and over again.  I even went so far as to look up the young lady on social media, in part to leave a message of condolence, in part to see if there was a clue as to why, and in part to see "who" this young lady was.  I read the posts left by others.  They all seemed to say the same thing, that she was the person that went out of their way to make sure others were happy, to comfort others in a time of need, and to be there for her friends when they needed it.  

All of this sounds painfully familiar to me.  At the tree planting in Peyton's honor at his old school, I heard many of the same things.  Kids told about how Peyton had befriended them when they were new, how he had made them laugh when they were sad, or how he had been the only one to stop and help a total stranger in the hallway when she had dropped her books.  

Now the community is left to wonder "why?"  This is not something that is supposed to happen here. This is something that happens to "other" people.  Our community is consistently voted one of the the tops in Texas.  We have great schools, parks, greenbelts, stores, shops, restaurants, a waterway, hell, we even have a mall.  We are totally self sustaining,  Our kids graduate from high school and go off the Ivy league and other top colleges.  They come back and get high paying jobs, get married, have kids, and raise the next generation of people that nothing bad ever happens to.  How could this happen to "us"?

The answer is actually quite easy, it happens all the time to people around the world.  People that are in such gut wrenching emotional pain that the thought of taking their life outweighs their fear of dying. People that are afraid of speaking up about their thoughts and feelings of sadness, anger, and worthlessness because things like that only happen to "other" people in "other" places.  People that suffer in silence because they are supposed to project an image of happiness because that is what expected of them.  

it made me think of Robin Williams when he said,  “I think the saddest people always try their hardest to make people happy because they know what it’s like to feel absolutely worthless and they don’t want anyone else to feel like that.”  We realize now, that this was how he felt.  Was this how Peyton and this young lady had felt?  How many other kids find themselves feeling the same way as they sit in class looking at all the others who have it all together, whose futures are bright and rosy.  How many of these people sit in their corner office with the spectacular view wondering where they went wrong.  How many of them have lunch with their friends as they talk about their perfect children, and ponder why they don't feel the way they are supposed to.  

To the family members that  are left behind to wonder, it is not your fault, she didn't do this to hurt you. It will take time, a lot of it, to get over this, and you will never get over it, but you will learn to live with it.  

To those that knew her, and those that wish they had, she is at peace, and you need to go on living.  It hurts, it sucks, and it will take a while to get over.  Cry for her, mourn her, grieve for her, but go on living.  

As for the young lady who took her life, I am sorry that you felt that way.  I hope that you have found the peace you were looking for.  I hope that the pain you lived with is gone.  Rest in Peace young lady.  

Speaking for the Silent

"Speak what you think now in hard words..."-Ralph Waldo Emerson

When I returned to teaching last year after Peyton's suicide, the first unit I taught was American Romanticism.  Included in this unit was Emerson's "Self-Reliance".  It wasn't the first time I had taught this highly quotable essay, but this time, it took on new meaning, especially when he told people to "Speak what you think now in hard words".  I truly thought about that line and how it applied to me. 

I knew that I was not going to stay quiet after Peyton's death.  I felt as though I had some how failed him, and needed to make up for what had happened to him.  I began with social media and talked openly and honestly about what had happened to him.  I talked about his battle with depression and anxiety.  His torment at the hands of his classmates, and his all too early death at the age of 13.  I spoke to any reporter who would listen, and I spoke at schools.  Any chance I had to talk to others, I took.  The more I talked, the more I opened up, the more other people opened up to me.  People began to tell me their stories about losing loved ones to suicide, their experiences with bullies, or their own dark moments where their demons and pain became so overwhelming that they considered or even attempted suicide.  

Many of these people had never told any one before.  They had kept this inside waiting for some one else to open up and allow them the opportunity to tell others.  They had been told not to talk because it made other uncomfortable, it was a deep family secret, or it was frowned upon in our society where things like suicide and mental illness are taboo subjects.  It was then that I realized that when I spoke, blogged,  or posted, that it wasn't just for me, or for Peyton, it was for all of those that, for what ever reason, couldn't.  

In the past year, I have come to realize that I am not alone in my grief, nor was Peyton alone in his pain. There are thousands of people out there that remain silent about the suicide of a loved one because society wants them to.  People that are ashamed to ask for help because of the stigma of mental illness. People that take their own lives because they feel that the world would be better off without them because no one has ever told them otherwise.  It is for these people, the silent, that I will continue to speak in hard words.  

How to Save a Life

On October 30th, I drove across town to speak to the PACE classes at Cypress Lakes High School.  I have spoken there before in regards to bullying and the role that it had in Peyton's suicide.  That first time, I spoke to the PALS classes.  PALS stands for Peer Assisted Leadership, and these are the "good kids" of a school.  Students must apply and interview to be part of the class.  PACE is another matter all together.

In the Cypress-Fairbanks Independent School District, PACE is a required elective for all students. Generally, it is for freshmen, but students who are new to the district take it as well.  It generally serves as a transition course for freshmen to help them become accustomed to high school by teaching skills and ideas such as goal setting, time management, post secondary options , and career exploration.  However, any time you tell a teenager that they "have" to do something, you know that there will be push back.  Yes, there will be students that openly embrace the class, but others will fight it tooth and nail, "just because".  As a result, I wasn't sure what to expect from the students.

As I stood in the LGI (large group instruction)and watched the students file in,  I was apprehensive.  I wondered if the students would take it seriously, would they want to listen to yet another person telling them "what to do" or "how to act".  My fears, however, were soon alleviated.

I began my presentation with a slide saying, "Every person you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about."  in order to get them  thinking about the inner battles we all fight, and how you never can tell about a person just by looking at them.  I then show Peyton's 8th grade picture, how normal and happy and relaxed he looked.  I then begin to put together the pieces of the puzzle that was his life, and how those pieces led to that fateful October day.  I always show a picture of Peyton, Emmalee and Ian all smiling and enjoying ice cream at the Bluebell factory, a Norman Rockwell-esque moment, right before I tell them that three months after the picture was taken, Peyton hung himself. That moment is meant for dramatic effect.  I even pause to let it sink in.  I then begin to explain about the issues Peyton dealt with on an almost daily basis.

As I was talking about the bullying he dealt with, I looked toward the back of the darkened room and saw a teacher walking a student out of the room.  I wondered why, but only briefly.  I kept talking about the power each of them had to make a difference, how they could perform small acts of kindness such as holding a door, picking up a dropped book, or even smiling at a stranger.  I talked about the mission and purpose of #Products4Peyton and #PeytonHeartProject, and ended with the last part of the quote I began with, the simplest way they could help some one, "Be kind.  Always."  A moment of hesitation and then applause.  With the time remaining, Terri Pruitt, the teacher who had invited me, let the students ask questions. There were students who cried, who wanted to hug me, to thank me, to shake my hand.  I realized that they had listened, and it felt good.

As the classes filed out, Terri came to me to tell me about the boy that had been walked out. Unbeknownst to any one, he was suicidal.  Not only had he thought about killing himself, but that day, he had a knife with him to finish the job.  His teachers didn't know.  His friends didn't know. His family didn't know.

I was stunned. This is what I have been trying to do since I began #Products4Peyton and joined up with Jill Kubin and the #PeytonHeartProject. I got to witness first hand, the power of Peyton's story. I saw with my own two eyes, and have proof,  how to save a life.  

I have preached from my soap box that educating people is the key to stopping suicide. Suicide is not going to go away because it is not talked about.  People will not stop taking their lives because we remain silent and pretend that it only happens to "other people."  To all the naysayers out there that want to dodge the truth, or hope that the problem goes away on its own, it is time to pull your heads out of the sand.  We  have to say the "word" out loud, to let others know it is okay to talk about, to know that they are not alone, broken or damaged, to remove the stigma and shame that is heaped upon mental illness, and most importantly, to encourage people to seek help.  

None of this would have been possible without Katherine Moore, Katherine Parker, Michael Kelly, Linda Griggs & Lisa Schwaeble, the PACE teachers at Cy-Lakes High School,  Rebecca Weitzenhoffer, a friend and collegue who first suggested that I speak at the school, and to Principal Sarah Harty, who took a risk by allowing a distraught father to pour his heart out to kids.  All of these people care about the students that they areentrusted with to take an uncomfortable topic and put it out there in the open.  Thank you to each and every one of you for allowing me to see first hand, how to save a life.