“From the outside I was a great student. I participated in...

“From the outside I was a great student. I participated in everything: sports, music, you name it. Plus I’d gotten ‘straight A’s’ since elementary school. But there was a side of me that I kept hidden. Even as a kid, I’d been good at being sneaky, if I took some cookies from the cupboard, I’d put the package back exactly like it was. When I grew older, the behaviors became riskier. I started partying and being promiscuous. With each encounter I’d get a rush of dopamine, but I’d end up feeling lower than when I began. Self-worth is something that I always struggled with. My depression got so bad in high school that I began to self-harm. I even went so far as to write out a suicide note in my journal. But I was so good at hiding that nobody ever knew. I seemed like a happy kid. My parents never saw anything that couldn’t be dismissed as teenage angst. And my marching band instructor even nicknamed me ‘Smiley.’ But there were small signs. On my worst days I’d put my headphones on during class, and lay my head on the desk. Then there was a time in British Literature class when we were given a poetry assignment, and I wrote about drowning. Our teacher’s name was Mrs. Hunt. She was the nurturing type. And she always treated us like adults. The day after I wrote the poem, she pulled me aside after class. ‘Should I be worried?’ she asked. I lied, of course, and said that I was fine. But then she asked me again, and I broke down. ‘I think I have depression,’ I told her. She didn’t blink an eye. She asked permission to send my parents an email. She let me read the whole thing, and I told her to send it. Later that night my parents initiated a conversation about my mental health. It was the first time we’d really spoken about it. A few days later we found a professional and I began taking medication. I’ve come so far since writing that poem. I graduated with two degrees. I’ve gotten married. And I’m about to begin my Master’s in Education. I’m hoping to become the same kind of teacher as Mrs. Hunt. When I needed it most, she recognized my cries for help. She handled them with grace. And I’m not sure if I’d still be here if it wasn’t for her.”