Words I Never Want To Hear Again: "Miss, She's Having a Seizure"

Well that's an image I'll never get out of my head. One of my girls, on the ground, convulsing.

It was this gorgeous Thursday afternoon. I was out on the back sports field with my girls' team that I help coach. We were having this light, easy practice. I looked away for a second, and then I hear one of them cry out: 'Miss, she's having a seizure'.

I ran to her. I usually have to run out to someone at least once per game; someone got kicked in the head or the wind knocked out of them. But this was very different.

I'll call her Lindsey. Some of the girls had seen her fall to her knees, and then to the ground. They assumed she had fallen down laughing. But another girl, Katie, had recognized what was going on. (She's in my class, and we had actually just been discussing epilepsy and seizures the previous week while studying 'The Lord of the Flies'.)

We put someone's jacket under Lindsey's head. She was rolled on her side and one girl was gently cradling her head so she wouldn't hurt herself. Thank goodness Miss T was there with me. She knows a lot more than me about injuries and medical things. She stayed with her while I kicked off my flimsy work flats and sprinted back into the school to find a phone. It was nearly 5:00, so the school was virtually empty. The main office was dark and locked. I grabbed my cell phone, a package of Kleenex, and a water bottle before running back out to her.

While I had been gone, Lindsey had had a second, more violent seizure. She had started really flailing around and a little blood was coming out of her mouth. Miss T had found someone else with a cell and had already called 911. We kept passing the phone back and forth between us. That was the first time I'd ever spoken with 911. The man on the other end was very calm and professional. I was trying to pretend to be calm in front of all of the other girls, some of whom were quietly crying and hugging. Those poor girls, some of them had no idea what a seizure was or what was going on. The few who were gathered around Lindsey were being so sweet and gentle with her as she slowly came to.

We called Lindsey's mom, who thankfully was only a few minutes away. The approaching sirens could be heard within moments, and a few of us ran out front to guide them back to the field. Poor Lindsey was crying, scared, and disoriented as they put her on a gurney. Her mother drove up and came over to us. She was also extremely calm, and even comforted a few of Lindesy's terrified friends. I took the mom's cue - if she could be this calm, then we could be too. I had known from her medical record that Lindsey did have some kind of seizure disorder, but that she hadn't had one in quite some time.

Lindsey went off with her mom in the ambulance to the nearest hospital. Miss T and I were then left with 20 traumatized, shaken girls. We explained how Lindesy had had seizures before, and that they look much scarier than they actually are. I described them almost like a brain hiccup.

We all went home. I emailed Lindsey to say I hoped she felt better soon, and I could talk to her teachers if she needed a day off and had to miss any tests or anything (at this time of year, all the students have a million essays and presentations due). But I was delighted when I saw her back in school the very next morning.

Lindesy has been on my team for 3 years. You develop very different relationships with your students when you're coaching them rather than teaching them. It's a much closer, more casual relationship. Other teachers and coaches will understand what I mean when I say I feel incredibly protective of all of my students (all 150 of them!).

It was a scary little incident. But at least it mostly only appeared to be scary, and she wasn't really in any danger.

Teacher Clothes

These outfits are pretty representative of what I wear to work at this time of year.

Something short sleeved, whether a cottony shirt or something button-up. It will be either a solid bright colour, or some neutral stripes.

If the neckline is just a bit too low, then I add what we call at my school a 'teacher panel'; a camisole or shirt underneath to hide any cleavage. Can't be teaching teenage boys with any cleavage popping out.

Sometimes I'll add a pinstripe vest, a blazer, or cardigan. The climate is so different in the school from room to room, so the layers are necessary.

Then there are work trousers, or walking shorts, or occasionally a skirt.

I'm on my feet ALL day long, so flats or similarly comfortable shoes are a necessity. I own shoes very similar to these 3 pairs.

Then I usually add a long necklace or a silver cuff bracelet or a headband or something like that.

Nothing too exciting, but that's what I feel comfortable in. My style is generally more classic/casual. I shop at mall stores like RW & Co, Le Chateau, Smart Set, Jacob, Costa Blanca, and of course H&M.

Sometimes I'm shocked at what other people deem 'work appropriate'. Obviously it depends on the workplace. No one wears a suit to work at a high school - our dress code is 'business casual'. But I've seen teachers come in wearing old jeans and tank tops. I only wear jeans occasionally on Fridays. The phys ed teachers are given more leeway, and they mostly wear track pants and t-shirts.

I try to take care with what I wear, especially being a younger teacher. When I started, I was sick of hearing, 'you could mistaken for a student yourself!'.

I wish I was more stylish sometimes. I have a colleague, Miss E, who has the best sense of style. She somehow has the ability to walk around the halls all day wearing high heels. But at least I'm better than Miss Tank Top.

Sad Student Story - Jewel

I still see Jewel (obviously not her real name) around the school. I taught her a few years ago when she was in grade 9. She'll definitely be one of the kids I'll always remember.

For the first two weeks of grade 9, she was strangely silent in class; never interacting with any of the other kids and putting her head down on her desk instead of doing her work. I went to go look up her student record to see if it had any useful information about her.

I've seen some horrifying student records before - details of abuse and crazy parents and terrible behavioural problems. One kid had been to 12 different schools by grade 9. Another record told me about a murdered father.

Jewel's record was probably the worst I'd ever read. A student record usually contains old report cards, correspondence between parents and the school, records of any suspensions or expulsions, details about any learning disabilities or health problems, all kinds of things. Her old report cards weren't anything too strange - comments for years about her being withdrawn and quiet in class. But then I found an old letter from her mom to her former elementary school explaining why she couldn't take the bus with the other kids.

When she was very small, she had been abducted from a bus and sexually assaulted by two men. A lot of her problems had started after that. I hope she was too young to remember anything.

I tried for the next few weeks to develop a relationship with her - and it worked. She was a natural writer, and so she liked English class. I would praise her writing. She started sitting closer to my desk at the front, and would shyly talk to me after class was over. She never spoke to any of the other kids.

Her mother came in once for a parent-teacher interview. Ugh. I had a much better understanding of what Jewel had to deal with after that. Her mother kept trying to turn the conversation to herself whenever I would start praising her daughter. She would tell weird, unrelated anecdotes from her life, acting as if talking about her talented, smart daughter was the most boring thing in the world.

Jewel began to confide in me more and more. She told me about her family. I told her that with her brains, she could some day get a job and move far, far away from anyone she wanted. She replied, "I know, miss," in a painfully wistful tone.

Since she was a great writer and had a lot of emotions to vent, I encouraged her to keep a diary, but she said she couldn't because her mother would search her room and find it. I suggested she keep it in her locker, and she looked thoughtful.

After that year, I still saw her in the halls and sometimes we would stop and chat. She told me all about her biological father reappearing all of a sudden. It reminded me of that Babysitter's Club movie from the early '90s: her father found her online and made her promise not to tell her mother she was talking to him. That is not the type of stress a 14 year old should have to cope with.

Now she's older, and I wonder what she'll do with her life. Her marks have started slipping as of late because she finally made some friends. Now she hangs out with people at lunch, instead of sitting in the stairwell by herself doing her homework.

She's a strong girl who has been through too much already. She's almost done high school by now; she's nearly old enough to move out and away from her mother. I hope she'll be happier.