A Couple Counselors

The job description didn’t say I’d need to know the latest social media fad, or keep up with slang just to follow when kids are plotting or talking mischief.

It didn’t say how devastated I’d be when the Eagles lose the Super Bowl and I’d still have to show up to work. 

It didn’t say I’d end up counseling the staff through their problems. Or quietly becoming admin’s secretary some days.

It didn’t say I’d have to wear a hair net while covering lunches when the cafeteria staff is short. 

It didn’t say I’d actually smile when that moment got my picture in the yearbook.

It didn’t say I’d cry at night wondering where my past students are at, in life.

It didn’t say how many tears would fall from the stories kids carry into my office.

It didn’t say burnout would hit so hard— especially when life outside of work keeps happening too.

It didn’t say how hard it would be to hold space for others or that my admin would need support with tears in their own eyes while your own life was unraveling.

It didn’t say I’d eat on the run in hallways or the cafeteria just to build relationships, so I wouldn’t be stuck behind my desk all day.

It didn’t say I’d need routines just to stay focused and regulated. Or that kids would trust me this deeply because I made their safety my priority.

Or how often kids would test my roast game.

Somewhere between what the job description promised and what the job actually became, something else happened.

I became more responsible with my actions— not because I had to, but because I knew kids were watching and I needed to grow.

I grew into a steady presence. Sometimes a counselor. Sometimes a father figure.

I learned to cry with coworkers.

I learned to merge my perception of myself with the reality of what the role required.

I learned to start regulating my emotions.

To find my way back to the joy of counseling.

The job description didn’t say any of this.

But somehow, this is exactly the job.

– Charles