I replay the story over and over in my head—it explains his justification for being the guy everyone calls after they drink.
“So they just call you? Anytime they need a D.D.?” I asked.
“Most of the time, yeah.” He chuckled at himself. “Word just gets around that I’ll pick them up, no questions asked. It seems like I condone it, I’m sure. But I make it very clear thatifthey’re going to call me, they are also agreeing to a lecture on drinking and its consequences, as well as a phone call to their parents.”
“Makes sense to me,” I said confidently. Because it did, and he was right. The sole action of being selfless enough to help when they have no else to call. That’s Benny, and he is remarkable.
His feeling of responsibility for someone else’s actions, when he clearly can’t control them, stem from his experience. We can’t control another person’s decisions and these kids will still continue making their choices, eventually dealing with the repercussions. But if they are smart enough to make a phone call, rather than make a poor choice and risk a tragic accident, Benny will be there for them.
“And usually, it happens one time. A lecture from Mr. B and a phone call to a parent is enough for them to realize they made a poor decision. But we have a handful of students who continue making poor decisions. Those are the ones who don’t call me anyway, and the ones who refuse to hear me out when I try to reason with them.”
He looked defeated at that moment.
I knew exactly who he was talking about: Ethan, Travis, some of the football players, even sweet Charlie Henders. They just want to rebel and eventually their poor decisions will catch up to them. But I’m sure, as teachers, you can’t help but feel a little responsible. You’re pouring your heart and soul into your work, trying to shape the young minds of the next generation, hoping they will come behind you and change the world.
And Benny is someone who will do whatever it takes to provide his kids that chance—the chance to change the world. Even if it means calling him in the middle of the night.
I guess he reallyisa Benny.Just an all-around wonderful guy.
Who brings the dip.
“Hello? Earth to Ellie!” Kate snaps her fingers at me. “Are you going to talk to him?” she asks, bringing me back to our conversation.
Blinking at her. “I have no idea! We haven’t had time.”
“You haven’t hadtimeto talk about your feelings?” She crosses her arms at me. “It’s like a two minute discussion!”
“Pretty sure that kind of conversation needs more than two minutes of my time, and I haven’t had it. Neither has he!”
“Ugh! You’re just stalling!” She storms away.
Dolly Parton nuzzles my hand for pets. Iamstalling a little bit.
I’m afraid of the inevitable rejection because a relationship with Benny isn’t allowed.
“I really haven’t had the time, Dolly,” I whisper.
With how busy we have been at work the last few days, we hadn’t really had an opportunity to revisit the discussion of us dating. It's college acceptance week and I'm on high alert for the seniors. The reassurance factory wheels were turning as a plethora of students stormed into my office to scream and cry over their acceptance freak outs, or worse . . . their rejection turmoil. I didn’t realize the brevity of these decisions and how I responded to them would affect the student’s mental state. Sarah had been accepted to Columbia, contingent on maintaining her grades and completing a few summer classes to graduate early. She was ecstatic, but her anxiety was on the verge of panic at the realization that she would have to move to New York before she was eighteen. Garrett Connors had received multiple rejections and was not himselfat all, refusing to meet with me to discuss a plan. Birdie was accepted to a few four-year colleges and could care less about it if she didn’t win prom queen. Students were in and out of my office all day, having these discussions, and all I wanted to do when I got home was crash on the couch.
“You have to be their guide, help them figure out next steps,”Emma would tell me.
And I am.
I am elbows deep in application reviews, admissions emails, and Google searches on how best to support these students. I haven’t felt so consumed with a client's success in such a long time.
The last time I felt any urgency on figuring out a plan for a client was when I had a new mom who was four months postpartum, off her medications, and dealing with intrusive suicidal thoughts. I spent weeks calling inpatient hospitals and working with her social worker to develop a plan for respite care and medication management to ensure the safety for her and her new baby. It was grueling and exhausting, but the adrenaline kept me going. That and the small signs of improvement she made each day fueled me. Finding a routine that suited her and her family, seeing her a few months later an entirely different person. An energized mom, a healthy baby and happy marriage, were the rewards I got to witness.
Did I ever think I would feel any kind of adrenaline like that as a high school guidance counselor? Definitely not.
With the mom, it was literally life and death. At the end of it, I had to accept that the outcome was out of my control and all I could do was provide support and structure. Hoping and praying they would take my recommendations. They did, thank God. But that’s not always the case. And with these students, more often than not, they are refusing my recommendations. They’re children, and they want what they want. Yet, I feel this urge to plead with them to let me help them, for them to just listen to me and do what I say. The continued rejection of my advice has left me feeling incompetent and like I’m unable to help them.
Surely if what I had to say was even remotely sound they would take it to heart and put it to use . . .right?
Dolly pawed at my hands as my petting slowed.
“What do you think?” I ask her as I scratch behind her floppy ear.
What is with these kids? Why do I feel so inept at handling these teenage life crises? And why does it feel like Ihaveto figure it out? Is it an ego thing?
