Wanna Fix Mental Health? Start 'em young.

 

As we reach the end of another school year, we were slapped in the face last week by the reality of the country we live in.

There’s no reason to rehash what happened. Because, in all likelihood, we will have to go through it all again within the next few weeks (thanks to summer vacation, it hopefully won’t be at a school).

Through all the noise of people arguing about what we should or shouldn’t do, there has been one thing that those arguing against further gun control keep bringing up – mental health. We need to address why young people are doing this over and over again. They always bring up the usual suspects: video game violence, lack of religion, the eroding of “traditional” family values. And through it all, the number one solution from some is to harden schools. Improve security. Make them more like prisons. And, gawd forbid, arm the teachers.

However, I would argue that one of the best solutions that I can think of – and we’re playing the long game here – is the exact opposite. We need to soften schools.

What exactly does that mean? If the people who make the decisions are going to throw all kinds of money to help fortify the schools, why don’t we find a way to make sure that our schools are places where kids are going to feel safe, protected, loved, and helped? Make them a place where students are excited to be rather than places that they dread.

Remember, we’re looking at the long game here. So let’s look at some options to address things long term.

How much better might a child grow up if they weren’t hungry all the time, or facing food insecurity every day? Let’s take that money and invest in making school cafeterias places where they can get healthy food they want to eat. There were several instances in my time working at the elementary school where the students didn’t want to eat the food they were being served by the cafeteria because the district’s food budget wasn’t covering better, healthier options. Several studies over the years have shown how much better a child does in school when they are able to have breakfast. A good lunch will help propel their growth just as much – especially if they go home to little or no food.

How much better might a child grow up if there were enough counselors to help guide them through the rough patches? To help them cope with their lives in this hyper, short-term attention span society? Our schools do not have enough counselors to help them cope with the stresses they have to go through. Food insecurity is only one thing many children have to deal with. Anger from living in a society where a child goes home to see an exhausted set of parents who are constantly working to try and keep their family just above water, making sure their kids have the proper clothes, shoes, and school supplies, while also trying to give them the things they need to remain children. Schools nee people who are trained to help kids cope with – and teach ways to stop – bullying.

How much better might a child grow up if there was universal broadband? As children get older, and as the education system evolves, the need for home internet is going to get exponentially more important. This isn’t the era where a family can have a set of encyclopedias to look up the information they need to complete reports, or assignments. The pandemic put a spotlight on the immense gap there is between the haves and have nots when it comes to computer and internet access. We were lucky enough to continue working and being able to pay for better internet service. Many, many more were not. And those kids fell far more behind than the others because they didn’t connect online with their teachers every day.

How much better might a child grow up if there are more people supporting them in the classroom? I get that things have changed in the long time since I was an elementary school student, but I know that it helped the learning environment that we had instructional aides in the classroom every day in the early grades. One teacher cannot be everywhere at once to give the attention that each one of the 20 first grade students need when they are learning a new concept. Or to be able to separate students into groups based on their reading strength and just focus on one group and hope the other group (or groups) will remain quiet. Or to take one at a time aside to do individual assessments (schools tend to bring in substitute teachers to help on days like this). How much better would it be if instead of a 1:20 ratio, it was 1:10, even if it’s an instructional aide? Even if it’s just for four hours a day?

How much better might a child grow up if the teachers who were in their classrooms wanted to be there and were paid well enough to live in the neighborhoods they teach? A teacher’s attitude rubs off on his or her class. If a teacher is struggling, it will show, and it will change the tenor of the room. Especially if they’re being counted on to buy their own supplies, get their own incentives for the students, and, in some cases, paying for food to help keep the children in their class from going hungry. Right now, we expect too much from our teachers, especially with how little we pay them. Most “teachers” are also: counselors, protectors, doctors, nurses, psychologists, IT workers, surrogate parents, and students themselves. And none of that includes what their lives are like outside of the school campus, where they are also parents and providers for their own families, who have to put up with them bringing work home at night and on the weekend (we saw a woman grading papers at an Ontario Reign game once).

How much better might a child grow up if the school they attended was fit for use by the students? Schools are aging, and many need renovations to be make them environmentally safe. Many are too small for everything that a proper modern classroom needs. Desks and chairs are not outfitted in ways that a child can have a Chromebook on their desk and do anything else. Most probably need power upgrades to run new tech along with new roofs, insulation, and heating/cooling systems, not just a coat of paint and new carpet. And that’s not to say anything about the need for books, pencils, pens, crayons, paper, and enough supplies so that no child ever has to share.

Now will all these change anything, stop mass shooting on campuses? Probably not right away. There are too many things that are wrong that can’t (or won’t) be fixed in time to put an end to all of this madness. So, yes, there will be the need to make security fixes on some campuses. Many schools have gates are push open out, and you need a key to get in – and many of them are chained shut as well. And if the school has a public park attached to it as well (an extension of the playground), then there are entry points that are accessible by anyone willing to hop a fence. But the older the kids get, the harder it is to funnel them into one entrance, especially when they start driving. Add in the hormones of confused teenagers, and you will never be able to stop all incidents on campuses.

The thing that bothers me the most by the main argument I hear is that putting common sense safeguards in place won’t stop all these things from happening. To which I answer “Duh.” People argued that mandating seatbelts wouldn’t stop people from being hurt or killed in car accidents, but they sure as heck have helped cut down on fatal incidents. We can’t be looking for elusive cure-all solutions that are going to be 100 percent effective immediately, that’s impractical (cynically, I think that may be the point for some of these people). But make a start. Little changes can make a big difference.

After all, could you imagine a world where school age children are treated with a level of dignity and humanity that many espouse would be the Christian way of doing things? Treated in a way where their problems mattered and there were people who were willing to listen and help them? Able to go home after getting a nutritious, filling meal (or two) without feeling ashamed of their family’s financial situation (without being shamed by cafeteria workers because they can’t afford to pay their bill)? Or to go through the day without being bullied for being different because there are enough adults there to make sure that bullying is nipped in the bud?

Maybe then, a lot fewer of them might grow up so emotionally detached that they think the only way out is to get a gun and shoot up others.

The Long and Winding Road to McCartney Had a Major Detour

After Paul McCartney finished his nearly three hour set (pre-encore) by playing “Hey, Jude,” I turned to Gina and told her:

“That’s it, I can die now. But I don’t have plans to do it any time soon.”

Sure, it is a bit of innocent hyperbole following the bucket list of bucket list moments – it’s my all-time favorite song performed by its artist. But after the previous few weeks we had gone through, it was nowhere close to innocent.

Less than two weeks before the concert, I was rushed to the hospital for what turned out to be a stroke.

Yeah, a stroke.

Now, let’s get it out of the way – I’m fine. Back to my normal self – whatever constituted normal in my world. I took a week off work, spent the next week working from home and returned to the office this past week. Still taking things slow, but it’s the perfect time, because the Friday before all this started was our last team sporting event. If you want a point of reference about what happened to me, you can look at Pennsylvania senate candidate John Fetterman.

I woke up on a Monday morning, and I had a blood clot in my brain that was jumbling up all my communication skills. People – including Gina, who called 911 immediately – would ask me questions and I couldn’t find the answers. I had some answers – I knew my name, I knew where I was – but it just wasn’t coming to me the way should. I wasn’t showing any of the signs they tell you to look for – drooping face, lack of strength (I walked down the stairs at home by myself) – just the fact that I wasn’t making any sense. My memory of some of it is foggy, but Gina says she asked what city we lived in, and I answered “Thursday.”

Within minutes, I was at Loma Linda University Medical Center. The folks at Loma Linda were amazing. Within minutes, I was getting a CT scan. Not long after that, it was off for an MRI (never want to do that again). Within three hours of arriving via ambulance, I was in the operating room as they went in and cleared the clot: And I was awake for the entire procedure. At some point, I realized they were playing music in the background (“Hotel California” was the first song I heard). Just was they finishing, I was reciting the lyrics to the song (“Stuck in the Middle With You”) that was playing at the time (singing would be a charitable description). I was back to “normal.” Heck, the anesthesiologist and I had a conversation about hockey (it was the day of Game 1 of the Kings-Oilers series). Turns out he loves going to Reign games, at which point I tried to sell him on the Fury, which ended when he said he tried it once, but didn’t like all the diving the players did (he must have come to a game against San Diego … I kid).

By mid-afternoon Monday, I was out of my ICU bed and sitting up watching TV, ready to go. The following morning, that was the first thing I wanted to do after waking up – get out of bed and sit up. I got a visit from the doctor who had done the surgery, and he spelled out all the issues I might run into – speech or physical therapy to help me regain any skills I might have lost, all the things associated with a stroke. Not long after he left, the therapists came in and tested me out – fine motor skills like brushing my teeth, and then walking around the ICU. After our short walk, they turned to Gina and I and said that they were going to let them know that I wasn’t going to need any of the therapy.

Tuesday late afternoon, I was transferred to a regular room, hooked up to far fewer gadgets, and free to move around without having to page a nurse to help me unhook or watch over me. And Wednesday morning I was given the all clear to go home.

Since then, everything has been good. We went to a baseball game that Saturday and attended the McCartney last Friday all the way in Inglewood.

As far as the cause? Stress played a role – the weeks leading up to the incident was full of the unease from the stolen McCartney tickets to some work-related drama that was causing all kinds of frustration. But that was a bit player in the process. Recently, I was diagnosed with atrial fibrillation, which was causing high blood pressure. Afib, I was told, is pretty common. I was prescribed some blood pressure meds, and was told in a very casual way to take baby aspirin and sent on my way. Because of several factors (relatively young age, non-smoker and non-drinker), I was considered to have a very low risk for any effects from the meds or the condition. I should also note that the Afib was found by doctors after another recent emergency room visit that turned out to be a pinched nerve in my arm. We now know how that risk assessment turned out. So there’s been some medication adjustments and a new focus forward.

As far as what I can pass on from this experience, a few thoughts. First, know the signs. The suggested acronym to think of is FAST: Face (does one side droop when you smile?), Arms (does one side fall when held up?), Speech (slurred, or strange when repeating a simple phrase), and Time (as in, don’t waste it, get to the ER). The one thing that I was told by the hospital on a follow up call is to absolutely call for an ambulance. The ambulance will get you to the hospital faster, and will be able to alert the hospital that a patient is incoming, rather than just having someone drive you there. After my procedure was done, they were gearing up for another stroke activation alert in the ER, and they were coming in via ambulance. I have no doubt that Gina’s no hesitation call to 911 that morning was what has me back to normal today.

Going forward, it’s the same push, to be better with one big subtraction: caffeine is out – it’s a big Afib no-no. I’ve never been a coffee or tea person, but the (too many) diet colas I was drinking every day are gone. Chocolate is another one that’s being severely cut back.

So, why am I telling you all this now? I don’t know. Just the overwhelming desire to write about it, I suppose. To tell my story. It’s what I do.

Anyway, I just thought it would help me process everything to put it out there. I’m not dying any time soon, so don’t lose any sleep. Know that if you’re reading this from my feed, that you matter, and not to ignore anything that might be bothering you health wise. We’re all in this together.