Dear Writer’s Group,

When we were first told in class that this paper was going to be a written reflection and argument regarding our educational experience, I was immediately drawn to one topic: mental health. The title of my paper currently is “What Will It Take?” because I want to emphasize my point on bringing awareness and help for mental health further into schools. I hope it’s catching.

My anxiety has played a crucial role in my experience inside and outside of school. From the time I was first diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Panic Disorder at thirteen, I have suffered immensely trying to succeed while my whole mind was working against me. You cannot understand mental illness fully unless you have been through it yourself. This is true. But that does not mean schools should not teach their students to be aware of, to prevent or help with, and to understand mental disorders. No one can predict whether or not they will have or know someone who has a mental illness, so we need to make sure that children are prepared in case they do. My thesis focuses on how schools and teachers have a huge impact on the success or failure of their students depending on the way in which they handle mental illness. I will use my own experience, as well as that of another, less fortunate child, to prove my point.

The place to start, as I stated above, is in education systems. My thesis has become: schools need to use their resources and educate students and faculty on mental health. Too many students fear the stigma or the consequences they may face if they admit they are suffering. This means too many individuals are not getting the treatment they need, for one reason or another, because the only way to get help is to first admit you need it.

I went back and fixed the organization of my essay during my second round of editing. I tried to interweave my story with statistics and mental health studies to best support my arguments smoothly. In one case, I added more information regarding mental health earlier on, to split up my story. I also changed some “to be” and “this” words throughout the essay, and found the title for my essay.

 

What Will It Take?

 

She stood there at the doorway of my room, hugging the frame so tightly that it seemed as if it were the only support holding her upright. She tried to stay strong for me, like always. In the end, though, we never could handle the pressure. This seemed to be part of some unspoken routine we had going for the past few months; I’d get worked up over something about school, and my parents would make an effort to help despite the fact that my irrational thoughts and issues couldn’t be fixed. Quickly, things would progress to the point where my parents could only sit beside me in my debilitative state of stress and provide whatever comfort they could to try and make things somewhat easier for me during the process, nothing else worked. I’d eventually tire out and either finish what assignments I had started or decide to go to bed and complete my work the following day, and we would all rest our heads that night in order to get the only few hours of relief we ever seemed to achieve lately. This had become our daily “normal.”

There are many students who suffer from mental illness who weren’t or will not be as lucky as I was. According to Teen Mental Health, in fact, approximately 20% of adolescents suffer from a mental illness. Despite these numbers, many schools don’t offer such programs as I had in high school, they don’t have as good of teachers. Many families aren’t as supportive, or don’t have the same resources that mine did to find outside help. Students in these situations, then, are set up for failure before they even get the chance to try. But if children come from all different scenarios, how do we assure that we get everyone the help they need? We need to find a common ground. And for adolescents, that common ground is education. Doesn’t it make sense, then, that mental illness awareness and care be an integral part of a school system? It’s supposed to be a safe haven where students can learn, grow, and become themselves in a proper learning system and with the right guidance. To be given fair opportunity, then, we must take into account students who suffer with mental illness in order to provide every child with a pathway towards success. It’s children’s lives we’re dealing with. Children who don’t know any better: I know because I sure didn’t.

Rewind back to the second day of eighth grade. Stuck in the same environment, around the same friends, doing basically the same thing I had at Fox Lane Middle School for the entire two years prior. Nothing had really changed, from one grade to another, besides my classes. In spite of the familiarity of it all, I could tell something inside of me had shifted. While sitting in the lobby waiting for my homebase to begin, to my dismay, I realized I had forgotten to complete an assignment for my advanced Spanish class first period. As my friends voices were tuned out by the building panic that became my thoughts I realized that I needed to act fast before I freaked out in front of my unknowing friends for, at the time for me, no known reason. I had never felt this way before, so struck and so hysterical over something so minute. My gut reaction had been to grab my closest friend at the time and rush out of the scene to the “nurse’s office.” I had barely made it out the doors before I burst out into tears. I choked up words as I tried to explain my feelings to my friend, but nothing made much sense. I tried so hard to settle down, I really did. It was no use. I had little to no control over my body and I knew it. I could not shake the intense feelings that now overwhelmed my mind. I wasn’t aware of it then, but those first few moments in eighth grade would mark the start of my journey with mental illness, one I would experience for many years following, possibly even so for the rest of my life.

It’s not uncommon for young people to start seeing signs of mental illness early on in life. Actually, The National Center for Children in Poverty explains that many mental health disorders are first recognized during the years of adolescence. During this time, as many as 75% of youth with anxiety and impulse control disorders first present them. With such knowledge it’s so critical that schools, where these students spend most of their adolescence, use their resources and educate students and faculty on mental health.

Never having been through something quite like what I went through that morning, my thirteen-year-old self had no idea where to go to for help. I’d been to the guidance counselor’s office before, but for reasons only relevant to school. Once we discovered that my counselor had not yet made it into the office, my friend and I spent the next 40 minutes or so wandering around the campus of the school in a strict state of distress. My friend then remembered and suggested we go to someone she’s seen in the past for family problems. Finally we were getting somewhere. This was the first of a future of innumerable meetings, conferences, therapy sessions, and so on to try and fix my desperate situation. This was not just a one-time occurrence. This was not me over-reacting. This was real. Here was the start of my anxiety.

Being young as I was, I did not quite understand the implications of mental illness. I’m not sure how much I knew about it at all, to be quite honest. I remember in health class briefly touching the subject, yes, but it was never enough. Never enough for me to comprehend the importance of mental health and how to maintain it, and certainly never enough to know what the signs were of and how to manage a mental illness. This would not have been so bad had my parents been able to guide me through the process as they usually do with everything else I need assistance with. Unfortunately, my parents were in the dark just as I was. They had not experienced themselves nor had they been told how to care for someone with such a condition as Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Panic Disorder. There were no simple answers or step-by-step instructions on how to proceed. Where did that leave us to go?

We initially tried going to the school. I mean, there had to be someone there who could help us. My crippling illness was affecting all aspects of my life. Considering education is a big part of it, the school would have provide us information on where to start, we assumed, as I was definitely not the only one there ever to have such an issue. We went to the guidance department, who recommended I see the school psychologist. After weeks of panic attacks and missed attendance in all classes, the psychologist, my parents, and I understood that was not enough. I hated going to school. I lost touch with friends, I could barely function properly in a classroom, and I had already been through more than my little mind and body could handle, more stress, more hospital visits, more pain and isolation than I should have. The school could only offer temporary fixes and suggestions that obviously were not working for me. It was only a matter of time before something drastic was bound to happen. Which it did. And they couldn’t help.

Fast forward some odd weeks later to my mother at my doorway. She repeated to me, with a desperate sigh, what I’d heard all too many times before; I don’t know what else to tell you. We had not yet given up, but for a while I felt we may as well have. No one could figure out what was going on with me. See how I didn’t say, “what was wrong with me?” Sad as it is to admit, I did believe there was something wrong with me. I believed there was everything wrong with me, considering everyone else around me seemed to be fine and no one overtly expressed to me an understanding of what I was experiencing. There was no doubt in my mind my mother was trying: we all were. But though my anxiety fits had become a normal occurrence, their frequency made them no more tolerable, made them no more solvable. It made them less, sensibly so. I could see my parents were just as drained as I was. They were hurting, too. It couldn’t be easy watching your child in so much pain. And when it seemed as though we had exhausted all of our personal options of action, and as the school was no longer a reliable resource for aid in my case, we turned elsewhere. I was admitted that night to Four Winds Hospital.

I’ll never forget those next couple of hours. We pulled into the parking lot, walked straight through the cold dark night, no one strong enough to break the silence. With both my mom and my dad at each of my shoulders, we continued on into a dimly lit building ahead. I sat for a while, waited as my parents spoke to the representative in the office and then waited longer as they filled out the forms for my stay. It was scary, to say the least. I had no idea of what to expect of this prison-looking establishment. Soon enough, my parents and I were forced to say goodbye to one another and I watched as they walked back out those doors, filled with great jealousy that they could go back home where it was safe and comfortable. I knew though that they were probably in a worse position than I was, having to leave me in the care of a bunch of strangers. I’m sure that was one of the most difficult things for them to handle, as parents. I know it was one of the most difficult times for me. I had never felt so confused, so lost, so alone.

I can explain my experience at Four Winds pretty concisely. This place was set up for troublemakers, filled with kids who didn’t follow the rules. It felt more like a youth detention center than a facility for health rehabilitation. No wonder no one wanted to go here. I was stripped of my parents, of my belongings, of my identity, and forced to swallow pills every morning. Even then I felt like these therapists, these “qualified professionals” had no idea who I was or what kind of support I needed. I was not an individual. And though I went twice, November of 2011 and once again a year later, I wish things had been handled differently. I wish I didn’t have to miss months of school and fall a bit behind, I wish I didn’t have to leave my friends, I wish I didn’t have to lie so often about where or how I was, and I wish I’d known earlier just how normal my situation was. One thing I wish had been emphasized was just how common Anxiety and Mental Disorders were, especially amongst students my age. We should have been taught more about this in school, we should have known.

Here’s a story of a twelve year old boy named Timothy O’Clair. Born in New York in 1988, his family quickly learned of the discrimination and unequal rights of mental illness in our state when their youngest of three sons was diagnosed with few himself. When he was seven years old, his family noticed that he started exhibiting some problems, starting with attention disorders and growing to include Depression and Oppositional Defiance Disorder. His father’s insurance was able to cover so much and the limited treatments were not enough for Timothy’s needs. After years of fighting to find solutions for their son, Mr. and Mrs. O’Clair were forced to put him in foster care so all costs necessary of his could be covered; they had no other choice. They could not afford for him to stay at Four Winds Hospital in Saratoga any longer and he would no longer go to school. Things were hard on the entire family. After coming home for his mother’s birthday, Timothy seemed to be doing well. Things were looking up for the young boy. Then, after leaving him alone one day with their eldest son, John, the family came home to find Timothy dead. He had hung himself in his room. The sons rushed to get him down and called 911 but it was too late. Their son was gone (O’Clair).

It’s horrific cases like Timothy’s that prove how important it is to take mental health seriously. The O’Clair’s are one of countless families around the world that struggle to find the funds and services for their kids trying to cope with all types of disorders. As described on the website dedicated to the young boy and to raising awareness on children’s mental illness, “Together the family lives with a haunting reality. If New York had equal coverage for mental health and substance abuse services, which would cost New Yorkers only pennies a day, Timothy might have gotten the treatment he needed.” If Timothy was able to get the treatment he needed, he would still be here today. This could have been any child, and still can be. This could have been me, even. My issues weren’t so severe, but it’s still a comparable case in that the only general difference between Timothy and I was that I was able to get immediate help and my parents insurance could continue to pay for it.

I still went on into high school with the same problems, with the same anxieties that I left middle school hoping to have overcome. It affected my grades, my friendships, my participation in extracurricular activities, my relationship with my family, and, most importantly, my happiness. High school was a huge learning experience for me. I was in a program that thankfully saved me many times, I was granted a 504 plan for extended time and separate location for exams and other projects to help me get my work done, and I had incredible support of a few wonderful, understanding teachers and aides who helped me at Fox Lane when I was going through my worst. I don’t know how I would have graduated, with a 4.0, and gotten into such prestigious universities without the accommodations I was given in high school. Even so, looking back, there is a lot I would change.

As children grow older, the effects that negligence and improper care of their mental disabilities become more obvious and obtrusive. A 2012 survey done by NAMI, the National Alliance on Mental Illness, called College Students Speak: A Survey Report on Mental Health, records the responses of over 760 college students and how mental illness has affected their school experience. Of the group, only 50% of respondents had disclosed their mental health condition to their school. It is required that before one receives accommodations, it must be communicated to the college they are attending. Anonymously, one student claimed, “I was concerned that the information would become part of a permanent record that could be viewed negatively.” There is a fear of stigma, a fear of judgement, a terrible mentality that if one reaches out for help, they will be looked down on as weak and incompetent. Middle and high schools have a huge influence on the way mental health is viewed. If it were more openly discussed, promoted, and taught in classrooms then it would make confrontations like this that much easier on students. These same students were also afraid about seeing peers in the health department, or did not want to deal with the long wait times or excessive paperwork that came with making appointments.

Another compelling finding of the study was that of all of the dropouts, 64% of students who were no longer attending college had reportedly done so due to a mental health concern. In one specific instance, a respondent replied, “a depressive episode made it impossible for me to go to classes and I did not get help until it was too late and I was withdrawn and I could never afford the cost to go back because I lost my scholarship for being withdrawn.” Access to these services is the key to success for so many students and no one should be made to feel left behind and without hope because a school is failing to provide them with what they need. Some suggestions were taken from the surveyees to see what improvements they believed could be made in schools. These comments include the need to“publicize mental health issues more,” implement “a mental health and wellness course that is mandatory,” and train Professors “to recognize some classic signs of depression, mania, etc… [as well as] on how to approach said student to recommend them for treatment.” These are highly intelligent and attainable recommendations. Now what needs to be done is people need to start listening to them. People in charge. Administrations can’t keep letting tragedies like Timothy’s happen. School systems need to face the problem head on, “instead of waiting until a student commits suicide” (NAMI).

Now almost nineteen years old, I have learned over time how to manage and best deal with my anxiety. I have even almost grown out of it. I am a changed person and I know that I will be able to go on to greater things, starting with getting my honors degree here at Macaulay-Baruch. I was able to prevail despite my mental illness, because of the support of my family and the resources I had available to me in high school. This did not come to me without hard work and great adversity, but at least I can say I made it. Unfortunately, not all individuals are successful as I have been. Timothy O’Clair would have been twenty eight years old this coming May. His life was cut short because despite the vast efforts of his family he was ultimately not able to get the right treatment he needed to keep him alive. Timothy’s case was not fair, and it should be as so no other kid lives like that. They don’t need to hit rock bottom, they just need help. The schools need to give it to them.
Works Cited

Gruttadaro, Darcy, and Dana Crudo. College Students Speak: A Survey Report on Mental Health.
Arlington: NAMI, the National Alliance on Mental Illness, 2012. Print.

“Mental Disorders.” TeenMentalHealthorg. N.p., n.d. Web. 20 Apr. 2016.

O’Clair, Chris. “Timothy’s Story.” Timothy’s Law. Kilakwa Associates, n.d. Web. 10 Apr. 2016.

Shwarz, Susan Wile. “Adolescent Mental Health in the United States.” NCCP. The Trustees of
Columbia University in the City of New York / The Atlantic Philanthropies, June 2009.
Web. 20 Apr. 2016.