Every day, Elijah* walks to the corner bus stop.
Normally, he would board the 112 bus and ride the 20 minutes to school. Today, however, he will walk. Walking will make him late, but Elijah walks anyway.
Elijah has his headphones in as he weaves in between cross-streets and crosswalks. The beat behind the music pulsing, louder and louder, like his own heartbeat.
The pounding rhythm in his ears simultaneously takes Elijah away from his world and his problems, while also reminding him that the repetitious pulse (he describes it while tapping the desk, “ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom”) could also be silenced at any moment without notice.
Every day, Elijah walks to the corner bus stop.
The bus stop sits across the street from a beauty shop where his mother and sister were shot and killed, without reason, one day in the middle of the fall. At times, if he examined it too long, Elijah could still see the shattered glass from the broken window shimmering in the sun, like diamonds bathing the sidewalk. He might smile at this thought, recalling the way his sister obsessively wore bedazzled shirts and shoes, jeweled earrings and headbands. At times, he could almost picture his mother aimlessly wandering the aisles for hair combs and eyebrow pencils, hopelessly unaware she was taking her last breaths.
Elijah first sat in front of my desk after being placed on a list of students with below-average attendance. He had accumulated numerous tardies and absences, and he overall seemed less than motivated to attend school. He was midway through his senior year, and his grades continued to decline, as they might for a student who is rarely in class.
Elijah mindlessly fidgeted with items on my desk as he mentioned how he walks to school. As the school’s only therapist (we have a licensed social worker, but his job is primarily addressing the needs of students receiving special education), “behavioral issues” were a common reason for referral.
I gently asked Elijah if there was someone else who could take him to school, and that turned into a pause, and that turned into the story of the bus stop. Over the course of several months, Elijah’s presence in my office increased. At first, he would reluctantly stop by for a quick check-in to let me know he made it to school. As trust and respect developed and he shared more, an exquisite young man blossomed before me. I began to see who Elijah was before the trauma, without the pain, hurt, and defensive wounds. I saw glimpses of the kid hiding beneath grief and loss, who still loved The Fresh Prince of Belaire and playing Uno, who was compassionate and wondered aloud if maybe he could become a veterinarian or baseball coach.
Urgent Need for Trauma-Informed Care
The current need for trauma-informed care and services is unprecedented. The COVID–19 pandemic and the social unrest occurring after the death of George Floyd have brought unparalleled circumstances of fear, anxiety, and uncertainty. Consequently, the nation has collectively had a glimpse into the reality of living with trauma exposure: unfettered anxiety, impaired concentration, declined productivity, the constant sense of uneasiness, and perhaps an emotional numbness and detachment from things once enjoyable.
Fortunately, for many of us, this disruption and chaos seems to have clear start and endpoints, like bookends to the turmoil. For many Chicago youth, however, this distrust and skepticism about the safety of the world has long been an accepted part of life. For 
these children, tragedy and loss aren’t newsworthy. It is normalized and ultimately ignored. These children and families have long deserved improved access to mental health services, given the high exposure to community and surrounding violence. As they brace themselves against the compounding effects of low income, unemployment, housing and food instability, and substance use—the impact of which remain unseen, unheard, and untreated for generations—these youth need support.
Students within these communities face educational barriers. This is not surprising given the cumulative impact of these stressors. The neuroscience of trauma is undisputed: stressed brains cannot learn. These students can have the most competent teachers with robust lesson plans; however, if their brains are not offered the opportunity to process and heal from these experiences, their ability to absorb the academic material is impaired. Consequently, this impacts attendance, in-school behaviors, and overall achievement.
Adopting a Comprehensive Framework of Care
To combat the long-term and adverse effects of trauma, schools must begin to adopt a comprehensive framework that provides a safe, calm, and predictable place where students address, rather than exacerbate, their mental health needs. Under this model:
-Educators and staff will be trained to recognize and understand the signs and impact of trauma.
-Administrators will identify and reduce the risks of re-traumatization inherent in many traditional disciplinary practices by pivoting towards restorative, not punitive, interventions that validate students’ underlying emotional needs while also reinforcing personal accountability.
-Academic instruction and social and emotional learning will co-exist in the classroom as teachers learn concrete and accessible strategies to address disruptive or contentious classroom behavior in a way that strengthens healthy decision-making and self-regulation skills.
-Finally, intentional efforts will be made towards healthy relationship building amongst and between students and teachers.
By extending across all departments, a trauma-informed framework allows staff to incorporate their training and knowledge of trauma-sensitive practices into their current roles to collaboratively provide the best trauma-informed, resiliency–focused care to its students.
A school-wide framework and approach is necessary to normalize the idea of asking for and receiving support. By employing a trauma-informed framework, the school will demonstrate to staff, students, parents, and the community that trauma and mental health are important. In doing so, the school will take a necessary step towards de-stigmatizing the act of talking openly about mental health and the healing process. There is no doubt that all school personnel want to provide the best educational experience and opportunities to their students; a trauma-informed, resiliency-focused framework will lead the effort to organize the school community so collectively all members are equipped with the knowledge, skills, supports, and resources necessary to teach and connect with students in healthy and therapeutic ways.
Interrupting the Silent Suffering
After several weeks of talking, I asked Elijah why he never asked for help. Why didn’t he let someone know about the bus stop? He looked at me and looked around the room, and simply said, “I thought I was good. I thought it was something everyone can handle.” When pressed a bit further, Elijah flatly said, “I thought it was normal that my family got shot.”
I asked Elijah’s teachers if they knew why Elijah was missing class. A few shrugged and attributed his absences to inherent laziness or teenage angst. Some sensed there was something else going on but assumed he would bring it up if it were important. Some were too busy to wonder at all.
This June, Elijah shook hands with the principal and received his diploma. Frankly, he barely made it. His grades never recovered from the months he spent avoiding the bus stop. In other words, Elijah’s grades never recovered from the time he spent struggling to independently manage the symptoms of trauma he didn’t know he had. Sadly, Elijah’s success seems largely accidental. He was referred to mental health services because there was a problem – he was missing class. But how many of our children silently suffer? Elijah took the next step in agreeing to open up to me, but for many, there is a stigma associated with being vulnerable. In a building full of adults dedicated to Elijah’s academic success, when Elijah’s emotional wellness became a barrier, he was left to deal with these problems on his own.
A school-wide trauma-informed framework would assist in deconstructing these barriers, so someone might have inquired if Elijah’s absences were a symptom of something deeper. A trauma-informed framework would have equipped educators with the knowledge and skills necessary to navigate this situation. And, perhaps, it would have reduced the number of days Elijah felt alone, afraid, lost, and hopeless as his weaved through cross-streets and crosswalks, his headphones drowning out the memories of the bus stop.
Tatiana is a Licensed Professional Counselor and a law student at Loyola University Chicago School of Law. She specializes in addressing the trauma-related mental health needs of youth and adolescents. She wrote this blog post as part of Loyola’s Education Law Practicum. See also this Trauma Toolkit that she co-authored with Tashiana Stafford, which was released by the Chicago Lawyers’ Committee for Civil Rights Under Law and the Transforming School Discipline Collaborative.
