Starting a new school year wasn’t the same without my daughter
My work family and students have kept me going
Back-to-school season is usually filled with wonder and excitement. New clothes, new books, and even the smell of new pencils make me blissfully happy. As a teacher, going back to school with my kids every year adds another layer of anticipation.
At least, it did until this school year, which I had to start without my youngest daughter, Austen. She passed away last summer at age 9 due to complications of Dravet syndrome.
The school year was scheduled to start only six weeks after Austen’s passing, and I had no idea what to expect. Would I be able to walk down the same halls as she had last year? Would I constantly hear her voice and laughter echoing? Would I expect to see her around every corner, behind every classroom door? Would the school seem empty without my baby?
It turns out the answer to all of those questions was yes. And, yes, I have shed more than a few tears as summer eased into fall, and fall into winter.
But one thing I have said repeatedly, and feel with every fiber of my being, is that I don’t think I would’ve been able to do it at any other school. Whether Austen had been a student there or not, it’s my work family and the students that keep me going each day.
On the first day of school, Austen’s old classmates greeted me with hug after hug. Some were silent, while others cried and said they missed her. Teachers pulled me aside and told me that if I needed a place to cry or scream, their rooms were open. I’ve taken a few of them up on that offer.
As the year went on, I was gifted a painting purchased by the staff, who each signed their name on the back in pink or purple ink — Austen’s favorite colors. The painting depicts a blond mom holding a little brown-haired girl over her shoulder — Austen and myself. It sits on a shelf in my classroom, reminding me she’s still with me. I received an ornament with her picture on it at Christmas. Her name is carved in the memorial bench to the left of the school’s front doors. Hers was the 13th name to be added.
The most comforting thing of all, though, is the hugs I get from a certain student. He was Austen’s best friend; they were attached at the hip every day at school. I don’t even know if he realizes I’m Austen’s mom, but he hugged me one day at the beginning of the year and I told him it made my day. Since then, he has given me a hug every time he sees me. I always wipe a tear away as I turn to go back to my class, but, as Austen would say, “it’s a happy tear.”
I can’t say it’s gotten easier. I still expect to see her running up and down the halls or playing basketball on the blacktop. I still spend at least one conference period a week just sitting at my desk and crying, wishing she’d knock on my classroom door just one more time. But even though she’ll never physically walk these halls again, take another test, or growl at another teacher, I know she’s here with me.
She’s here with us.
Austen wasn’t just my baby; she was all of ours. Everyone in this school had a connection with my girl, and they’ve all mourned with me. They’re more than a circle of colleagues and friends; they’re our family. Maybe that’s the real reason I was able to return — not because of how they’ve supported me, but because of how they’re also missing her. Just like a family, the staff here are healing together.
Note: Dravet Syndrome News is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Dravet Syndrome News or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to Dravet syndrome.
About the Author
Noma Dunne
I read your article every time I log onto Dravet Syndrome News and am always in tears as I read it. I have a daughter who has had Dravet Syndrome for the past 31 and 3/4 years. Your daughter's story could easily have been my daughter's story. I was also a teacher during those tough times. I recently retired and she has finally had a year seizure-free. Now I try to think about what the future holds for her as she ages.
My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family. I applaud you for the strength you displayed in returning back to school without her.