It takes a village

Sunday was bittersweet. My high school, St. Andrew’s Episcopal School, held an incredibly moving memorial service for Joanne Beach, who was Head of Upper School during my time there. It was a full Episcopalian service with communion and both of her sons spoke on their mother while everyone in attendance laughed, cried, and agreed on their sentiments that she lead with a firm, but gentle, hand.

I found out about my acceptance to St. Andrew’s the day of my 14th birthday party. I came home from the rollerblading rink and opened a letter full of confetti. It was my first choice school and I was ecstatic to be going. My first day was so full of jitters and it helped that Tommy Cross, a senior whose big sister had babysat me when I was younger, helped me find my locker. I started making friends, trying to remember names (pretty much everyone was either Andrew or John, so it wasn’t that hard), and easing my way into a new school after being at St. John’s for seven years.

My world came crashing down when I lost my sister in 9th grade. I’ve talked about that a lot on the blog and off it- but trying to piece back your life after such an amazing loss is no easy feat and not something you can do on your own. Being 14 is miserable enough, but being 14 and having my universe implode left in me in a fog. I’d always been an honor student- my grades were slipping. I’d always been an extrovert- I stopped wanting to sleep over at my friends’ houses. I was scared, lonely in my sadness, and frankly, I just didn’t care that much about school.

But the entire staff at St. Andrew’s was there to support me. When they noticed my grades slipping, the guidance counselor suggested to my mom I try medication to help me focus. Since, essentially, that’s what killed my sister, she wasn’t having that. Instead, after some testing, I was “prescribed” extended time and breaks for my tests. I’ve never been a good test taker, so having that cushion was a blessing. Besides that, I had teachers and staff who loved me, cared about me, and generally took care of me.

I graduated with honors and was accepted into my first choice school, Rider University. Ironically, they had the same school color of Cranberry- and when one of my fellow 2007 graduates told me it looked like I was going to St. Andrew’s part 2 I thought, “why woudn’t I want to do that?”

What struck me as I looked around at Mrs. Beach’s memorial was the collection of memories that hit me of the folks who cared about little old me, just one of the many students who needed an extra bit of attention.

Rev., as we called our school chaplain, came back to officiate the service, and seeing him immediately reminded me of the hours I spent, crying and angry, in his office, judgement free as I tried to wrap my head around the unfairness of Candace dying. Ms. Goodrich, who we could always count on to empathize with, cry with, and hug us, was there yet again when I needed her. Mr. Barber, who was always ready to help me prepare a song to sing at chapel in memory of Candace once a year was on piano. Of course, Mrs. Beach, who was so kind and understanding to my family during our worst time.

They say it takes a village to raise a child- but it’s more than just raising. It took the village of St. Andrew’s to cultivate me into the person I am today. I will be forever grateful to Mrs. Beach and every other member of faculty and staff who touched my life and helped me come out on the other side of the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.

In the spirit of thankfulness for this coming week an season, here is my  resounding thank you.