One Mom’s Call to Action
In our schools, catchy posters promoting non-violence, anonymous tip lines and motivational mind-shift phrases line the hallways. Our children are encouraged to put these slogans to use in their daily lives. The one that always sticks in my mind is ‘Some secrets aren’t meant to keep’. I like the concept but it’s a tricky one to put in practice; Not only in my own family but for faculty and administrators as well.
Seeking independence and autonomy is a developmentally appropriate aspect of becoming a teen. Some turn to their peers while others rely on parents and/or adult mentors. My child’s preference is school personnel - specifically counselors. This comes with the enticing promise of confidentiality which has a sweet and salty side. On the one side, a student has an unbiased, trusted adult to confide their troubles. On the other, a student has an unbiased, trusted adult to confide their troubles. I know – the line is so blurred it can easily be missed.
“What you say is kept between you and me unless you plan to hurt yourself or someone else”. I have to wonder how many students say their ‘plan’ outright. Through the middle school years, I received calls asking me to ‘keep an eye out’ for my child over the weekend. No explanation. It was just out of concern. Confidentiality led to many sleepless nights. During my child’s 9thgrade year, my role in supporting my child was questioned – without explanation due to confidentiality.
Over the course of three years, I was gradually removed from the loop. It appeared my child was leading a double life. I was unaware of what was happening at school and not one person could fill me in – including my child. I lack the credentials. I lack the professional office. I lack official protocol. At the end of the day, though, it is all up to me.
My child has an IEP and qualifies for Section 504. That shouldn’t matter but it does. The qualifiers are what led to the issues at school. Confidentiality created barriers at home and solved little at school. It took too long to learn what happened to my child. In spite of the cruelty my child has endured, not one teacher, counselor, principal, police officer, or parent volunteer has felt it necessary to disclose the daily trauma and torment, including physical assault, that has happened to my child. This includes reporting the incident(s) calling for an investigation and parent notification per the procedures outlined in the ‘Student Welfare Freedom from Bullying’ policy.
The reasons my child did not talk to me are completely valid for a 14 year old. With a streak of perfectionism, my child struggles with guilt and fear of disappointing me. With a heart whose capacity overfills, my child put my feelings first and didn’t want me to worry. As a mother, I worry regardless. As a mother who shares that same streak of perfectionism, I understand. I consider myself lucky today.
Some secrets are not meant to keep. Unclear, fear inducing telephone conversations and voicemails are ineffective and are a disservice to students and their families. Parents have the right to know what happens to their child while at school, who did it and what steps were taken. And when the need arises to alert the parent to keep an eye on the child over the weekend, consider the nature of this request and how it applies to a confidentiality breach. At that point, confidentiality is null.
As parents, teachers, counselors, mentors, neighbors – whatever your position in a young person’s life - Stop pretending to know what you don’t know. Stop pretending it’s none of your business. If a child, teen or really anyone of any age comes to you they have already made it your business. Sure, it’s uncomfortable. But the discomfort of doing something quickly dissipates whereas the discomfort of knowing you could have done something lasts forever.
It's time to ask ourselves to ‘Be the One’. Be the One for that young person who is hurting and scared. Be the One to let their parent know. If for no other reason, Be the One because you would want to know if it were your child that was hurting.
