Small Victory

In my last post I mentioned another story I had to tell about events that weighed me down in the last 6 months. It's a very long story and I've struggled with where to begin and with whether anything is gained in the sharing. But there is a, well, not really a happy, but a positive ending, so here it is. Brace yourself. This is going to take a while.


Chapter1 - In the year after Emma died, Peter and I have numerous conversations and email exchanges with school district administrators. The gist is usually the same. We share some observations and thoughts. We share some of what we have learned from reading about suicide, suicide prevention and suicide response; things that, from our own experience, we feel could be very valuable. We urge them to review their policies and procedures. We've not reviewed these ourselves, but we're pretty sure one of two things is true: if the policies and procedures are good, they didn't follow them; if they followed them, they're not very good. Mostly, we urge them to reflect. A child has lost her life. It's imperative that we all learn from it. We assure them that we are not asking them to do anything that we don't do ourselves. We tell them that every single day we reflect on what we could have done differently and better, and that we will continue to do so for the rest of our lives. For their part, they listen politely, nod their heads, take notes.


Chapter 2 - Right around the anniversary of Emma's death we get a letter in the mail. It tells us that the 2 high schools in town have purchased AFSP's "More Than Sad" staff and student training program. They plan to implement it at both high schools and hope that we agree that it is a fitting way to honor Emma's memory. We most certainly do.


Chapter 3 - In the summer, we meet with the new district Superintendent and new Headmaster of Emma's high school. We've invested a lot of time and energy in conversations and correspondence over the last year and we don't want those messages to get lost with the transition in leadership. They listen politely, nod their heads, take notes. They assure us there will be a review of policy and procedures and the new Headmaster pledges to become familiar with the "More Than Sad" program. We ask them to keep us in the loop, and we leave feeling optimistic.


Chapter 4 - It is early December, just a couple of weeks after my mother died, and something compels me to check in with the district on what has happened since our conversation in the summer. Specifically, I ask about whether and how the "More Than Sad" program is being implemented and whether a policy and procedure review has been undertaken. I learn that the other high school has begun implementation of the "More Than Sad" program, but at Emma's high school it's been relegated to the faculty resource lending library. On the policy front, I learn that they are, in fact, considering some proposed revisions to the district's suicide regulations. I ask for a copy, and I am encouraged to put my feedback into writing to the Board of Education, as the policy has already been referred out of committee.


Chapter 5 - I read the district's suicide policy and regulations for the first time, and I am stunned. I expected it to need improvement, but...CT school districts have been required by state statute to have suicide prevention policies and procedures in place for more than ten years. Fairfield's policy never even uses the word prevention. Furthermore, the proposed revisions do nothing to correct this. The revisions propose no changes to the policy and only a few minor changes to the regulations. I come to the realization that despite all the head nodding and note taking, there is no intention to engage in a comprehensive review and revision of the policy and regulations related to suicide. I realize that if I want it to happen, I will have to be more proactive and more vocal. I roll up my sleeves and get to work.


Chapter 6 - I spend much of my Christmas holiday combing through the state law regarding youth suicide prevention, CT State Department Education guidelines regarding the development of suicide prevention policies and procedures, and state and national resources regarding prevention and response. In an effort to understand how they arrived at the currently proposed minor revisions to Fairfield's regulations, I look back through the minutes of the Board of Ed's Curriculum and Policy subcommittee meetings. It is then that I learn that the regulation review was not undertaken in response to Emma's death, or as a result of the many conversations we had with administrators. I decide not to get hung up on this. A door has been opened and I'm going to step through it. I also learn, after devoting a lot of time putting my recommendations into writing, that the subcommittee will be having another meeting before the regulations are referred to the full Board. If I attend that meeting, I still have an opportunity to influence the content of the regulations before they are moved forward.


Chapter 7 - I attend the subcommittee meeting which takes place the first week of January. Board members don't have a lot of questions, and it appears that the policy will move forward as is. I wait patiently for my turn to speak. When I am finally given the floor, I urge a thorough review of both the policy and the regulations. I urge them to engage outside experts, community members, and parents in this process and take advantage of the many state and national resources available. I tell them that I have done a review of the state law and state Department of Education guidelines and feel that the current policy and regulations fall far short. They ask me if I have specific recommendations and when I respond that, in fact, I have written recommendations that I prepared to send to the full Board, they agree to table the policy in order to review my recommendations.


Chapter 8 - The next monthly meeting of the subcommittee is canceled due to inclement weather, so it's two months before I am attending another meeting to discuss my recommendations. The meeting is called to order, and the first motion on the table is to move the regulations forward to the full Board "as is." I'm practicing deep breathing techniques: in - out - in - out. Another Board member asks a couple of questions. It does not seem like they were inspired by a reading of my recommendations but, hey, they're questions! His questions lead to this important acknowledgment by the committee's staff liaison: "What you are asking about deals more with prevention and/or intervention. Our current regulations really only deal with how to respond to a crisis." They agree to table the regulations again so some language can be added that would help a staff person understand who they should talk to if they were concerned about a student.


It's finally my turn to speak. I once again urge a comprehensive review of policy and regulations and reiterate that I feel that both are very deficient. I reference the written recommendations I sent them which it does not appear any of them have read. I remind them that the state law requires youth suicide prevention policy and regulations, and by the district's own admission the current policy doesn't satisfactorily deal with prevention. The title of the policy alone tells the story. It's called "Suicide Policy." I end with this thought: if all the recent headline stories about teen suicides around our nation and our metro area, amplified by the death of one of their own students by suicide, doesn't inspire them to take a good hard look at their policies, procedures and practices, what would? Then I walk out the door.


Chapter 9 - I am thoroughly frustrated and at a loss for what to do next. I send an email to the Superintendent, copying the staff liaison and the 3 Board members who serve on the committee, but I don't expect much. I get a cursory response from the Superintendent, but that's about it. About a week or so later I am sitting in a hearing room in Hartford,  waiting to testify on legislation that would strengthen the state's bullying prevention law, when I receive an email on my phone from the subcommittee's staff liaison. She wants to meet to discuss a process for re-drafting the policy and regulations - the suicide prevention, intervention and response policy and regulations. It would appear that we are making progress.


Chapter 10 - About a week later I meet with her. There is nodding and note taking, but there is also a genuine exchange of ideas and opinions. She has clearly read my recommendations, and better yet, I can tell that she has read some of the research and explored many of the resources herself. She has made a conscious decision to take this work on, even if no one was going to ask her to do it. A friend had told me I was going to need to find someone willing to champion this issue if I was ever going to get anywhere, and it looks like I finally have found my champion. As I walk to my car I find myself humming the Alleluia Chorus.


Chapter 11 - My champion has pulled together a virtual committee of internal and external experts and interested parties to act as a sounding board for policy and procedure development. Heretofore, all the feedback and input has been via email, but today she pulls us together for an in-person meeting before she presents her completely re-drafted policy and procedures to the subcommittee. I am the only non-staff person attending and I arrive first. The first two people, guidance counselors, arrive close together and we exchange names, but nothing more. There is no hint of recognition when I say my name. A third guidance counselor arrives and recognizes his colleagues. He is in a jovial mood and jokes from the instant he enters the room. "Is this the esteemed Suicide committee?" he banters. "I'll tell you, I was so busy today I should probably kill myself!" Ba-da-bum. When the rest of the committee assembles, my champion suggests introductions. I clench my teeth. I hate introductions, and this time I know it's important to reveal my connection to the issue. My name is Nancy von Euler, and I am the 800 pound gorilla in the room. I can't see the comedian's face as I explain who I am.


There are no major changes to the much improved policy and regulations my champion has drafted. As we're leaving, the comedian approaches me. " Mrs. von Euler, I didn't know your daughter, but I was called to the school as part of the crisis response team the morning after she died, and from all the wonderful stories people told about her, I can tell she was an amazing kid."


Yes, she certainly was.


Two thoughts about this exchange plagued me afterward. First, why didn't anyone step forward to share those wonderful stories with us? In the days and weeks after Emma's death we faced a deafening silence from the school. How welcome it would have been to hear those fond remembrances.


The second thought was - seriously? You were at the school when people learned that Emma had died? You witnessed the devastation and trauma and yet, less than two years later, you can parade into a room and joke about protecting kids from suicide? Wow! Of all the evidence I had gathered that the district did not learn and grow from the tragedy of Emma's death, this was, perhaps, the most disturbing.


Chapter 12 - But, you know what? The newly drafted, much improved, policy and regulations have now been forwarded to the Board by the subcommittee and will be voted on by the Board at their next meeting (May 24th). I didn't get everything I wanted, but I am very satisfied with the product. The greatest strength of the new policy and regulations is that they put in place a structure and process for continuous improvement of practice related to supporting vulnerable students. If the Board of Ed approves them on Tuesday, I think we can call this a story with a positive ending.