https://www.infirmiere-canadienne.com/blogs/ic-contenu/2016/01/07/savoir-improviser
A traumatic event presents an opportunity for this educator and her students to draw on their core knowledge and experience to support others
Jan 07, 2016, By: Linda Gomez, RN, MSN
At the moment my cellphone rang, the day was shaping up to be like many others I’d spent with my nursing students. I had a plan, but I really didn’t know how it would unfold. What was supposed to happen was that I was to support three nursing students as they taught sex education to a group of high school students at an alternate school.
Alternate schools accommodate those who struggle with learning in the regular system. This year, the students at this particular school are young men, many of whom come from troubled family backgrounds and cope with their day-to-day realities by engaging in extremely risky behaviours. Generally, though, they appear to thrive academically and develop self-esteem in this environment. The teachers and support workers, all of whom seem highly committed to the students, have created a community that gently warms and nurtures others. It is a privilege to be invited into their space; they are a close-knit group.
As I answered my phone, a trembling voice said, “There’s been a tragedy.” I ran into the building. A teacher told me that Mr. D., the vice principal, had died unexpectedly from a cardiac event. I was stunned. I knew him. He was a nice guy, a father and funny. Everyone at the school loved him, and they were absolutely devastated.
Time stopped. My plan was clearly out the window. I wondered if we would be asked to leave, but I wanted to offer whatever assistance we might be able to provide. One of the teachers asked us to stay and suggested starting a conversation on another topic entirely.
I was thankful to be an experienced educator. For starters, I knew I needed a few minutes to help get my own students sorted out. The immediate challenge was to find a space where we could talk. Fortunately, I can conduct a meeting anywhere — in a boardroom, a closet, a parking lot. The men’s bathroom was empty, and that’s where our group of five gathered: three nursing students in Year 3, one in Year 1 and me.
I knew we had some strengths heading into this. The nursing students had taught these young men before and had a relationship with them. Further, they trusted me because of the relationship we had. My job was to help them recognize they had the skills and knowledge to lead a session on basic grief identification for a class of distraught individuals. I knew they could do it, but they needed to come to that conclusion on their own. At the same time, I wanted to help the Year 1 student make some sense of what was happening.
“What is the most important aspect here?” I asked. “To get them talking about their feelings” was the response. I started to talk about grief, and they soon realized they had learned a significant amount about it. We moved ahead with a simple plan: to ask open-ended questions that would lead into an exploration of the stages of grief and to record the responses on flip chart paper. Participation had to be voluntary. No one would be put on the spot.
I did a quick check in; two of the students said they were ready to facilitate the session but wanted to call on me if they needed to. The third said she felt the situation was too intense for her, given some recent personal experiences. The Year 1 student would watch and listen closely; in fact, I don’t remember him even blinking that day. We had a group hug and entered the classroom.
The next two hours were remarkable. Our two facilitators were open and at ease with the group, giving each person individual space and respecting the silences. In the end, virtually every student and teacher chose to speak. The young men showed their willingness to talk about harm reduction strategies that would help them remain safe over the upcoming weekend. To honour Mr. D., the group decided to plant a tree on the grounds of the school.
Afterward, we met to debrief. I let the nursing students know how proud I was of how they had conducted themselves. Theory, practice and their professionalism had totally intertwined in a dance of nursing. There was no need for me to count the steps when the choreography had been perfect. Although we were all sad for Mr. D., his family, the school and the community, I felt privileged to have been with this group of students and to have the ability to react quickly and respond to their needs. For them, I think, the experience boosted their self-confidence and respect for one another’s skills and knowledge.
I am grateful for all the times I’ve had to alter plans at the last moment and the opportunities that resulted; for students who invariably rise to challenges, needing a mild nudge at most to prompt them into action; and for the wisdom to know how to help them take on those challenges. We’d just had an impromptu lesson in what it means to head into the messy stuff of life and death. Nobody said nursing was going to be easy.
Linda Gomez, RN, MSN, is a nursing instructor in the BSN program, Selkirk College, Castlegar, B.C.
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