The End of an Era

Tonight, Andrew will receive the very last drop of breastmilk in our house.  I knew this moment was coming, and to be honest, I have lots of mixed emotions.  Books, classes, the internet, and other moms prepare you for so much when you are pregnant with your first child but nothing prepared me for the breastfeeding journey I had with Andrew.  You’ve probably heard it said by other people, other moms, or in other blogs that “breastfeeding is natural” so therefore the assumption is that it should be so easy for a mom to do.  The class I went to at our hospital didn’t really touch on it not being an easy process.  The only real reference to that was “don’t you worry, we have lactation consultants who will come work with you in the hospital and we will get it all worked out.”  You’ve probably also heard that breastfeeding creates an amazing bond between and mom and their child.  And for some moms, I would guess that it does come easy or maybe just with a few bumps.  And for some moms it is the most amazing bond in the world and something that they will cherish.  Well, let me be honest.  Breastfeeding was hell for me.

I wanted more than anything to have the amazing, easy, incredibly bonding experience of breastfeeding my child.  And to be honest, I wanted the free food source since babies cost about a trillion dollars during their first year (and I hear this doesn’t stop).  My very first experience feeding my child included a random nurse coming into our makeshift room after my c-section and literally shoving Andrew’s mouth onto me without any warning.  I am talking up close and personal shoving.  I thought things were going fine, but when we got moved to our post-partum room our wonderful nurse came strolling in with the hospital grade pump and announced “I heard breastfeeding wasn’t going well, so we brought in the pump for you to try.”  Talk about dashing a new mom’s joy.  I then spent the next three days in the hospital struggling with feeding.  I was in pain.  My body looked like a war zone.  And I kept lying to the lactation consultants because I am stubborn and because I didn’t want anyone to know I was failing.  Though I was honest enough to get one of them to bring me some little soothing gel pad thing that was a literal life saver.

When we got home, things did not get better.  I was absolutely miserable.  And in so much pain.  Seriously, no one prepares you for the fact that breastfeeding can be extremely painful.  And if it is, typically that is a sign that there might be something wrong either with your latch or your child may have a tongue or lip tie.  I can’t begin to explain how many tears I cried the first few days (okay, let’s be honest…the first two weeks).  My family saw how much I was struggling and supported my going to see a lactation consultant outside of the hospital (shout out to the amazing team at Belly to Cradle in Pensacola).  Mike was amazing and came with me to the appointment because he wanted to help in any way that he could.  While I appreciated him so much, especially when he would wake up during middle of the night feedings and just be there with me and come to appointments like this, I felt so alone throughout this struggle.  The lactation consultant was extremely helpful, gave me a nipple shield (otherwise known as a blessing from God), and recommended we go forward with removing the tongue tie Andrew had.

Things got better for a few days, including after getting the tongue tie taken care of, but I was still in so much pain and I hated every minute Andrew was latched to me.  I hated it so much that I only let him stay latched for 10-15 minutes at a time.  He was probably miserable and so hungry.  During the first two weeks when I was really struggling with breastfeeding, I started to feel postpartum depression and anxiety knocking on my door.  I wasn’t bonding with my child, I was starting to resent the fact that I was the only food source for him.  I was miserable and I knew if I continued to feel this way, I would spiral into full postpartum depression.  Something absolutely had to be done.  And because I was stubborn at that point, I refused to completely quit breastfeeding and switch to formula.  Mostly because I didn’t want to spend the money.

November 12, 2017.  The day everything changed.  We were finally going to leave the house as a little family of three to go to Friendsgiving with the young adults at our church.  I was beyond stressed about how I would breastfeed in public.  I wasn’t comfortable with it and still wasn’t enjoying it, so I made the decision to pump in order to have a bottle we could give Andrew while we were out.  It took sooo much stress off of me.  Then on November 14^th we had 24 hours of just formula to help get rid of the jaundice Andrew had.  During those 24 hours, I pumped essentially every two hours.  And that is when the exclusive pumping journey began.  I wasn’t able to breastfeed Andrew directly ever again.  I tried a couple times, but nope, our journey was over.  And then I spent the next 9.5 months attached to my little machine.  It went with me everywhere.  Car trips, bathrooms, offices, family’s houses, friends’ houses, church, school, even to amusement parks.  My life revolved around when my next pump session needed to be.  I planned social outings and work around the pump.  Pumping is exhausting.  And incredibly difficult when you are alone with your baby trying to pump and also manage them.  And pumping takes hours away from time you can have with your baby, with your friends, and with your family.  But it was worth it to me in order to be able to give Andrew some amount of breastmilk.  I was also incredibly lucky to have other moms going through a breastfeeding journey at the same time as me who I could talk to and complain to when I needed.  I also managed to find some incredible and supportive facebook groups for moms who were exclusively pumping.

My very first bottle of pumped milk

My first night back at school having to pump in the bathroom before class

We won’t discuss the time my husband ruined 200 ounces of breastmilk, but we will talk about the fact that he stepped up and helped in ways many dads don’t because I needed to pump.  I am so appreciative of him.  Many of you will say it is silly for me to be thankful because a dad is supposed to be a 50/50 partner, but he supported me throughout my entire journey and I really don’t know that every dad would.  I was also very fortunate to have an amazing classmate who, when he heard I was pumping in the bathroom before class, found me a location in his office where I could pump.  We were also extremely blessed at the beginning of my pumping journey and were not only able to feed Andrew, but to also put milk away in the freezer, and to donate milk to another family in need.  We weren’t able to donate as much as I would have liked to, but it meant so much to help another mom especially because I know if the roles were reversed, they would have done the same for Andrew and I.

The infamous 200 ounces of milk that was ruined

When Andrew turned 10 months, I stopped pumping.  My supply had dropped significantly around the time Andrew was 6 months.  And, I was done with the pump.  I wanted that time back.  When you add up all the hours I was on a pump, I probably spent at least 25-30 days of Andrew's first year attached to the pump (so at very least 600 hours of pumping). When I stopped pumping, we were able to do about half formula, half milk for a little while thanks to the stash we had in the freezer.  Now, he gets more formula than milk.  And you know what, I’m 100% okay with that because he is being fed and he is growing.  I have a new appreciation for all the ways that a mother can feed their child after this journey and I will never look down on anyone who either makes the decision, or has the decision made for them, that they need to use formula to feed their baby.  And remember all that money I wanted to save breastfeeding instead of using formula?? HA!  Exclusively pumping is soo expensive.  Between pump parts, buying a better pump if you don’t like the one insurance gave you, bags, pumping bras, and other storage items for milk (in our case a fancy cooler for car trips to VA and TN as well as a deep freezer) we probably spent just as much money as we would have with formula.

The official last pump

So tonight, my little boy will get his last sip of breastmilk.  I’m sad that this stage in our journey is ending, but I am damn proud of everything we went through to get to this point.  It was one of the most difficult experiences of my life, but we made it. 

My little "pump"ling 

Silence Won't Work Anymore

A lot has been swirling through my mind this week and I’ve been going back and forth about whether or not to write this post. I’m still not 100% sure if it is the right decision to put all of this down in words and essentially out there for the world to see, but if it helps even one person understand that sexual misconduct can happen to anyone and why it can be so hard for people to report it, then maybe putting it all down will be worth it.

I am glad that individuals of all genders, and some in very public positions, are coming forward to report sexual harassment and assault that they have survived at the hands of some pretty horrible people who clearly have used their positions of power for evil rather than good, but the fact that we live in a society where even with this rape culture exists at such a terrifying rate and when reports like this come out, there are people who are so quick to victim blame makes me sick. I wrote something on my facebook a couple months ago about the upcoming arrival of my first child who will be a privileged white male, and you better damn well believe that I will do everything in my power to raise him to respect others and understand what consent is, how his privilege plays a part in consent, and that he must always have consent. If he wants to hug another child when growing up, you better believe he is going to know you ask permission to hug first. People may think I’m a crazy mom, but I just really want him to understand and do the right thing.

Almost 9 years ago I started working at my first “real” full time job in higher education. I was so excited to be working full time, to have a staff of my own, and to have an incredible group of colleagues that I would get to work with and learn from. I thought that I was walking into a great environment where I would be truly supported and would be able to develop skills that would help me long term in my career. While some of this did happen, there were a few other not so great things that I got to experience. I should also mention that at the time I started this position, I was only 22 years old which meant I was still a little naïve about how the world worked- especially the working world. For my higher ed friends, I should also note that this occurred in 2009 prior to the release of the now (unfortunately) retracted 2011 OCR Dear Colleague Letter.

Within my first three months of working in my position, I (along with a couple other women in the department) were experiencing blatant sexual harassment from a male colleague. I kept quiet about what was going on for a while because I really didn’t know what to do and didn’t want to cause any trouble. Things got to the point though where if I was even in the same room as this individual I was having internal panic attacks, couldn’t focus, and just needed to get away as quickly as possible. My ability to work was being impacted on a daily basis and I can’t count the number of times I cried during the day because of the stress the work environment and the harassment that I was enduring. When I finally did decide to report the behavior I was lucky to have an understanding and supportive supervisor who was there for me and able to help me navigate what to do. Unfortunately, when I reported the situation to our department’s human resources staff and the supervisor of my colleague I was told that I either needed to just let it go or I needed to “talk it out” with my colleague. The thought of having to sit down and mediate the harassment with the person who was causing me so much anxiety was absolutely terrifying and at 22 I didn’t feel as though I would be able to do that. I expected my HR department to believe me and to take appropriate employment action. I didn’t expect to be told to “let it go” nor did I expect to be grilled about what I could have possibly done to have caused the behavior from my colleague, because in their mind I must have encouraged him to make the comments he was making. I felt as though everything was my fault and that I had done something wrong by reporting the behavior and how it was making me feel in the work environment. I had to endure another month of working with the colleague before he was finally either terminated or resigned, for of all things, not appropriately handling a reported sexual assault on campus. And when he did leave, there were people in the department who made me feel it was my fault he was gone because I had reported his harassing, inappropriate behavior.

Fast forward to 2013. I’m older and I’ve worked in higher education long enough to have developed a pretty tough shell. This time I’m working somewhere else and have an experience where a highly intoxicated student verbally abuses me for multiple hours. Not only does this student verbally abuse me, but in part of what he says to me, he makes it very clear that when we arrive at a certain location that he will have arranged for his friends to meet us there so that they can sexually assault me. As soon as I am able to leave the student, I immediately submit a report about the situation. The report has no emotion to it, rather it is me just providing the facts of the encounter. I have a tough shell, but I am absolutely crumbling apart. I’m really lucky in this case that I have colleagues who, as soon as they find out what happened, come to get me to take care of me. Despite the very clear report, through an appeal the student is able to stay, and I have to spend the next month and a half seeing this individual on an almost daily basis. And when we get to the place where he told me his friends would be to assault me, I spend six days in totally fear that at any moment something terrible is going to happen to me. I’m incredibly lucky that it didn’t but that fear was absolutely crippling and having to see the individual so often had me replaying the situation over and over. I was lucky to have access to counseling services which was helpful in processing through everything and I had a great support system in my coworkers and supervisors.

If I had to count how many people know about these two experiences, I would say in total that maybe 15 people in my life know. I honestly don’t know if I ever told my family, though I’m pretty sure my sister knows about the 2013 incident. The first situation, probably only 5 people have any idea about it and what I went through. Even though my situations are nothing in comparison with what others have experienced, they make me understand why reporting can be so difficult. Lots of times people won’t believe you or they will question what you must have done for something to happen to you. Or, you do report, people believe you, but the consequences for the person who hurt you are so small that you are re-victimized on a regular basis.

There has to be a solution to this awful culture that we have established. There has to be a way to hold people, especially those abusing their power, accountable for their actions. There has to be a way for survivors of any type of sexual misconduct to feel comfortable coming forward. We have to do something, we can’t stay silent anymore. 

What is Your Plan?

For the record, I am really not a political person. Some of you are probably laughing at that sentence because leading up to the election, and certainly after it, I’ve posted some pretty political things. But in the grand scheme of my life, and looking back on the past 30 years, I really am not that political nor am I very outspoken about politics or “taboo” type topics. I will admit that as I have gotten older, I’ve certainly become more liberal and more apt to share my feelings on issues I find important (marriage rights, sexual assault, immigration etc). 8 days ago everything changed and let me tell you there has been a spark lit under my behind that is calling me to take all my privileges, all my experiences, and all my ability to be an advocate and do something good with it. Some of you will never understand the immense fear and grief felt by so many people last week (and that will continue to be felt for the next four years) and some of you will think I was overreacting when I sat in my bathroom at 9:30pm last Tuesday sobbing like I have never sobbed before. I’m not mad at my friends for however they voted, everyone has the right to vote however they please and for whomever they please. I clearly disagree with who some of my friends voted for, but just like those friends have the right to have voted for who they did for the reasons they voted, I have the right to disagree. My biggest issue right now is the fact that so many people I love are living in fear and whether or not you believe that fear is justified, that fear is real and we all need to acknowledge that our friends, our neighbors, our family members, and our fellow citizens have real, immense, and in my opinion, justified feelings right now.

Today, I sat and spoke with a woman who moved to the US from a middle eastern country. I listened as she shared with me through tears what she has experienced leading up to the election and after the election. I heard the fear through her voice and felt the cry for help through her tears. I had to listen to the sexist and xenophobic things that have been said to her. If you think the media is over exaggerating what is happening in the country right now then fine, believe that, but as your friend on facebook, I am telling you that whether you want to believe it or not, it is happening. This is not okay. And just saying “stop it” is not enough. This is a time when action speaks louder than words.

Over the course of my time working with college students I’ve sat through and led many trainings on what we refer to as bystander intervention. The short version of bystander intervention is that when you see something that is wrong, something that feels off, or something that could lead to danger, you intervene and help. Your action can stop the wrong that is happening. And just like what we teach college students (mainly around the topic of sexual assault and sexual violence) I think we need to teach each other right now. If you see something that is wrong, if you hear someone say something that is hurtful, sexist, racist, etc, then do something; say something; prove to me that you do no stand for what has been tied to and attributed to our President-elect. We have the power to be kind. We have the power to build bridges. We have the power to advocate for those around us.

You don’t have to make some grand gesture. Find what matters to you and use your voice to support it and protect it. Be kind. Be understanding. Be accepting of the way those around you may be feeling whether you agree with those feelings or not. Put yourself in their shoes. I know that is my plan for the next day, the next week, the next four years and beyond. So what is your plan?

My Girls

I wasn't planning on doing a blog tonight, but then I was sitting watching Mike interact with his little brother from Big Brothers Big Sisters and I decided tonight might be a nice night to write a little. Mike constantly amazes me. First off, he puts up with me on a daily basis and those of you who know me well, know that is pretty much a giant amazing miracle for anyone to do. He's smart, talented, funny, caring, can build and fix things, and has incredibly patient. Watching him spend time with his little, more specifically spending time doing math homework, reminds me how lucky I am to be marrying him in under a month. And it also reminded me of family, but not our traditional family, but our family who go beyond blood. Darren, Mike's little brother, isn't blood related but he is a part of our family. Tonight he asked if he and his family could move into our house because he likes it so much, it was super cute. I'm really lucky, because I have non-blood related sisters who agreed to be my bridesmaids for the wedding. Lauren is super cool too because she is my actual sister, but tonight I wanted to chat about the special ladies who are family to me.

I'm pretty sure that I hit the jackpot with these ladies. They are all different and special in their own way but there is no one else that I would want to call a bridesmaid beside them. They've been there for me through all kinds of things. They've been my shoulder to cry on and they've made me laugh uncontrollably. And they are the only ones who will know how to handle me on the big day and each of them will have their own roles that day....Tara will make sure Mike is in line, Jen will make sure there is alcohol nearby, Emily will keep me grounded and bring me back to reality when I start getting a little crazy, and Laura will make me burst into a million tears when I see her on facetime.

Out of all my bridesmaids, I've known Emily the longest. We went to grad school together and somehow survived those two years together. A few years ago Emily posted something on my wall about how research showed that if you were friends with someone for 7 years that you would remain friends for your lifetime. So far, that rings true with Emily and I. We do a terrible job keeping up with each other because of our crazy busy lives, but the moment we text, email, talk on the phone, or see each other in person, it is as if no time has passed at all. We just pick up, catch up, and keep our friendship going. Emily was there for me at probably my lowest point in my life and professional career. Instead of letting me sit and be depressed, she motivated me, lit the fire under me, and provided me with the harsh kind of love that you need from time to time. I'll never be able to repay her for how she helped me. She's an incredible person, amazing professional, and an even better friend. We will ignore the number of boy problems of mine that she has had to deal with, but I'm so glad that after dealing with all those frogs, she will be standing next to me when I get to marry my Prince Charming.

Jen I've known almost as long as Emily, but not quite. I met Jen at George Mason where I worked my first professional job after grad school and she was a student. I fought so hard to get Jen on my staff during staff selection and after a lot of ups, downs, and battles with one of my favorite all time bosses, I finally got Jen on my staff. She worked for me for a semester and we had an instant connection. Jen is honestly one of the few staff members from my early staffs that I kept in regular contact with and as fate would have it, we got to work together again when she decided to come to UWF for grad school. During that time both our professional and personal relationship grew and I got to see Jen develop into an amazing person. I'm pretty sure there were days when Jen wanted to throw things at me when I was her supervisor in grad school, but despite all of that our friendship grew, and especially near the end, so did out adventures. From our first adventure in Pensacola at Seville to one of our lasts getting stuck in a torrential downpour #sorrycharlie Jen is one of my favorite people and I know she will keep me smiling during the wedding.

Tara I have known for the shortest amount of time but in reality, I think we are kind of kindred spirits. We are both Hokies, she has a little SEC blood in her, we are both introverts, and we both get grumpy when we've been out too late or people start annoying us. She was also witness to the two fights that nearly ended my relationship with Mike. One involved boomerang and the other involved the Tennessee/Florida football game. Mike likes to refer to Tara as his other girlfriend because they are actually super close too. She deals with his crazy antics, and sometimes encourages them. She is also the kind of friend that you can pick up the phone and drag out to dinner or happy hour at a moments notice when you've had a bad day because she is an incredible friend. She was also the first bridesmaid to find out she would be one because I mayyyy have told her at the Mardi Gras parade before Mike and I were even engaged that I was going to ask her to be a bridesmaid. Tara abandoned me this summer so Pensacola is not the same, but we do have quite the little group text message going between her, myself, and Jen. #ketchupbottle I won't even lie, I miss Tara a lot. Like every day.

Then there is Laura. Who I'm going to make cry because she literally just had a baby which means she is postpartum and cries at everything and I, being the evil one that I am, enjoy making her cry. I call Laura "little one" because that is what she is. If I didn't have a sister, Laura would have been my Matron of Honor. The first time we met, I didn't like her. I thought she was going to be super rude and stuck up and I wasn't looking forward to working with her at Framingham. I don't know if I ever told her that is how I felt about her. I'm pretty sure she didn't like me either though because I technically got hired over her. Boy was I wrong. Laura is my rock. And she lives too far away. She is one of the hardest working people I know and probably my best co-worker of all time. She is blunt and incredibly feisty. She puts me in my place when I need it and talks me down off the ledge when I'm having a Lynsey moment. I'm also a terrible influence on her because I encouraged her to drink an entire bottle of wine one Thanksgiving and the very next day she found out she was pregnant. Oops. Laura is my "grown up" friend who talks to me about marriage, family, buying houses, and most importantly, the weird crazy things that your body does when you are pregnant. I've already warned her she will be getting a million messages a day from me when I decide to have kids. She is one of a kind and I know that if I needed her, she would do everything in her power to be there for me, just like she hopefully knows I would do for her too. Laura won't actually be at the wedding....she had to go and have a baby. There is going to be a big gap that is missing, but I'll facetime her and ruin my makeup and have her oldest son Connor tell me how beautiful I am before I walk down the aisle. Laura, whether she knows it or not, is my person.

I'm incredibly blessed to have these amazing women by my side for the wedding for multiple reasons. They are all so special to me and I can't wait to celebrate with them and have our friends and family see how much they mean to me because they are part of our special day. I'm also lucky to have two "real" family members with me that day too, Lauren my incredible sister and Kaelie, Mike's amazing and talented niece. I really am the luckiest girl in the world to have 6 amazing women who loved me enough to say yes when I asked them to be beside me on the most important day of my life :) Family goes beyond blood. 

Love At First Sight?

As of today, we are officially one month away from the wedding. To be exact, we are 29 days 13 hours and 33 minutes away from the ceremony starting. And no, I didn’t just calculate that, our wedding wire app has the countdown as soon as it opens. Also, as I write this blog post my sister, Mike, and myself are all sending gifs via imessage in a group message to explain our excitement (Lauren and Mike) and our anxiety (me) about the wedding being a month away. The funny thing is that at this point it really feels like Mike and I are already an old married couple because we’ve been together for a while and have a house together. Even with that, we are both still looking forward to the wedding, being officially married, and gathering with some of our friends and family to celebrate. I haven’t blogged in a while so I figured today was the perfect day to write something and start a little series leading up to the wedding. So today, I give you the story of our first date J Mike might get embarrassed, but he needs to get used to that if he isn’t already since he is marrying me.

For the record, I asked Mike out first. I let him pick the place, time, and date, but I initiated the date. He decided we should meet on a Friday night downtown and the Wine Bar on Palafox. It was the night before I had to run a 5K very early in the morning, but I figured the date wouldn’t last that long and I would be fine to get home and get plenty of sleep before the race. As all girls do, I stressed about what I was going to wear and eventually settled on a pair of jeans, pink tank top, black cardigan and some boots. I looked cute if I must say so :) This was also my first official date in two years, so I was clearly a little nervous.

When I got to the Wine Bar, Mike was waiting outside for me. It was cold because it was January, but I remember thinking Mike’s jacket was a little extreme for the Florida cold (it was a puffy winter coat). He shook my hand when we met. It was really weird and I’ve told him that a thousand times. I don’t think anyone has shook my hand on a first date before Mike. That should have been my sign that he was a winner. We went inside, got seated, and started our date. The conversation was easy, I laughed, and we got to know each other. We had both eaten so we just ordered a glass of wine each. When we finished the first glass we were still talking and enjoying the date, so when the waitress asked if we wanted another drink, I assumed we would get one. Mike said no, so being courteous, I also said no. Then we sat there talking. For another two hours. With no more wine. The waitress probably thought we were crazy and hated that by the end of the night we had taken up a table for three hours and had only had two glasses of wine total. I thought we were nuts.

So when the check came I really wasn’t sure what to do. It just kind of sat at the table (we had to pay at the bar) and Mike didn’t acknowledge the check and I didn’t really either. I would have been totally fine to pay for our super expensive two glasses of wine, or to split it, but there was for sure an awkward little while of me wondering if he was going to pick up the check and pay for it. Good news, eventually he did.

We had parked near each other so we walked together back to our cars. When we were close to our cars but not actually at them, Mike stopped right in front of the door to one of my favorite bars in town, Seville Quarter. There was a bouncer right at the door who we stopped in front of so he got to hear Mike’s whole awkward goodbye, this was fun, we should do it again sometime speech. Then we said goodbye with no hug and luckily no awkward handshake again, we just parted ways and headed back to our cars.

For the record, the next day I talked with my mum and specifically told her that he was nice but a little quirky and I wasn’t sure if I liked him, but I would go on a second date with him to give him another chance. She likes to remind me of this conversation on a regular basis, but I guess it was a good thing I gave him a second chance, huh? And now that I’ve finally finished this we are 29 days, 12 hours and 40 minutes away from the ceremony. 

The Impact of Words

It is really strange the things that your mind choses to remember and what it decides to either get rid of or lock in a box in the very far back dusty corner. As most of you know, I work at a Community College and like all higher education institutions there is a big focus here on access, retention, and success of students. One of the nice things about the place that I work is that we are an “open access” institution and in most cases, Community Colleges tend to be “open access.” Essentially what open access means is that anyone could come here for school. There are still minimum requirements and we still have an admissions team that reviews all of our applications and makes sure students have the proper identification/paperwork/course credit that they need to have in order to enroll, but we don’t turn you away because you have a GED instead of a H.S. Diploma, or because you weren’t a straight A student, or didn’t have a perfect score on the ACT, or because of your background-educational, social, or economic. Where I work is a place that wants to give students the opportunity to be successful even if they never thought that a College degree or certification is something they would ever receive.

So back to that funny thing that minds choose to remember. It has been almost 13 years since I was in the process of applying to Colleges and Universities. For me, it was never a question of going to College or University, it was where would I go and could I get scholarships for it. I recognize that this last statement shows how much privilege I had as a high school junior/senior and how much I still have today. I had two parents with college degrees who had always encouraged me to learn. I don’t think I ever had a conversation with them about not going to college, or doing something for a career that wouldn’t require a college degree. I do know that I had several conversations with them about not wanting to go to the University of Tennessee and how I would only go there kicking and screaming (and yes, I now realize the irony in these conversations). I didn’t really spend any time while I was a junior or senior thinking about the other students in my graduating class who might not have had supportive parents like I did, or who might have been first generation college students, or who didn’t want anything to do with college because they had a different career path. For me, and my group of privileged friends, our conversations were about where we were planning to go, what we thought our major would be, and what “dorm” we would live in.

What I did spend time thinking about was how College would be paid for, especially since my top two schools were small private Presbyterian Colleges with very high price tags. Even though my parents both have College degrees and were incredibly supportive throughout the process, they went to school in Scotland and the higher education system in Scotland at the time that my parents went to school was very different from the American higher education system. There were certain things my parents didn’t understand. First and foremost being the fact that everyone had to pay for College. Then you get into things like the FAFSA which can be a total different language for students and their parents. Not to mention things that take place on college campuses like Greek Life. So even though I have parents with degrees, a lot of the requirements for admission into College was new to all three of us. You also have to think that my parents moved to the US in 1995 less than 10 years before I would start college, so they didn’t have the saving accounts set aside from the time I was born specifically for College like some families have the ability to do. I knew that if I wanted to go to one of my top two schools that I would need to find a scholarship. So I looked and found some but the financial aid packages offered to me by my top two schools couldn’t compare with how much it would cost me to go to UT.

When it became clear that I was more than likely going to end up at UT for school, I started to think about how to go about getting scholarships there. I knew I wanted to live on campus, even though I could have lived at home since campus was only a 20 minute drive from my parents’ house and I wanted to be involved so I figured the less expensive UT was the more I could do. I remember clearly, the day that counselors from UT came to my high school to talk to us about the admissions process, financial aid, and campus life. Since probably half of my graduating class ended up at UT everyone was really excited about these meetings and learning more about the transition from high school to college. We had the opportunity to hear information and then ask questions of these “all-knowing” college counselors. So, still being focused on paying for school/having extra money for fun things, I decided to ask the counselor what the process was to apply for scholarships. The response I got was not at all what I expected. I was told, as was everyone else in that room with me, that unless we had a 3.75 GPA or above, that it wasn’t even worth our time to apply for the scholarships offered by UT. I can’t remember what my high school GPA was, but I know for sure it wasn’t the number that the college counselor said that day. I felt totally defeated. Before I had even started applying for scholarships at UT, I was basically told I wouldn’t get a school scholarship.

Even with that message, I was still really lucky. I got the Tennessee HOPE scholarship and my mum got a tuition discount for me because she was a Knox County teacher, oh and my parents had been able to save some money to help with school costs. But reflecting back, I wonder about the other students who were in the room with me and heard that same message. What other students felt defeated, or felt as though they weren’t good enough for UT when they were told not even to waste their time applying for a scholarship? Were there any students who took that message and decided not even to apply to UT, or worse, to not apply to any schools because they didn’t think they could get financial aid? I’m sure the counselor who shared that doesn’t remember that conversation and never thought about the impact that conversation could have had on a high school senior- especially one that was on the fence about whether or not college was for them.

Fast forward 13 years and I am sure there are still students who are hearing messages like the one we heard when I was a senior. There are probably well-intentioned professionals, parents, and peers who say something that ends up deflating the excitement or hope that a student has. So what are we doing to help students? Are we reinforcing that if a College education is something that they want, that they have the opportunity to obtain a degree? And how are we treating our friends, students, and children who tell us that college isn’t for them? There are a lot of options that don’t require a degree, or that a vocational certification can open doors for. College and Universities need to be more aware of the message they are sending in every form, which includes those individual counselors and recruitment officers who speak to students one on one. My job, and the job of Colleges and Universities is to help students be successful and get them on the path to their future career. Sending messages that detract from the opportunity of success won’t help our schools get more students, rather more students will think that college isn’t for them. So next time you are talking to a high school student, or even someone younger than that, think about the message you are sending and think about how that message could be perceived in terms of their future successes. We all have the opportunity to help others be successful, so instead of locking doors before they can be opened, let’s work on keeping them open and offering multiple doors to choose from. 

The Happy Wall

This afternoon, Mike came into my office to show me a message he had just gotten from one of his students that essentially let him know how much the student appreciated Mike as an advisor. As you can imagine, Mike was really proud and felt really touched by the student reaching out and letting him know the impact he had on them. Since this is his very first year in a professional Student Affairs position, it is even more special for him to get notes/messages like this. Of course I was super proud of him too, but it got me thinking about something that I have done since 2007 when I started my Graduate Program.

Some days, working in Student Affairs can be hard. You can have incredibly long, high stress days where you feel as though you are doing everything wrong and are terrible at your job. When you have those days, it is really nice to be able to reflect back on the positive impact you’ve had on students, colleagues, and institutions. My grad school experience was challenging to say the least….especially parts of my graduate assistantship. I knew the work I was doing with the fraternity and sorority chapters along with the students I was advising and supervising was making an impact, but there were days where I just felt totally defeated because of things outside of the work I was doing directly with my students. I made the decision that I needed something that could remind me of two things. One, I wanted to remember why I made the decision to go into Student Affairs. Two, I wanted to be able to look back on how I’ve helped students (because helping students grow and develop in college was the reason I decided to go into this field). So I started “The Happy Wall”

The current "Happy Wall"

It’s been almost 9 years since I started this tradition which has continued at every place I’ve worked, so I don’t remember what the very first thing I put up on my “Happy Wall” was, but I can tell you that the collection of cards, photos, hand drawn pictures, paper glasses, and door decs have grown. When you have that terrible, no good day, you need something to keep you motivated. For me, I’ve found “The Happy Wall” works. I can take a 5-10minute break and just read the cards, the letters, the notes and everything else to remind myself of all the amazing opportunities I have had, the incredible students and colleagues I’ve worked with, and the fact that I’ve made a difference to someone. I’ve collected so many items for “The Happy Wall” that I have to keep some of the items in a little box on my bookshelf because they don’t all fit. Sometimes, students have made me something specific for the happy wall, like this window because at the time, the office I was in didn’t have a window. Sometimes it is the little things that really make a difference.

I’m in a position now where I interact with lots of students, but not in the way I did when I was in Residence Life or Fraternity and Sorority Life. I know I’m still making an impact on students and the community I work with, but the notes and cards are less and less since I switched functional areas which means I cherish the ones I have so much more now. I think the further removed an administrator becomes from students, the more important it is for that person to have something like “The Happy Wall” because it will always be there to remind you of your students and the reasons for going into the field. And if you don’t work in Higher Education like I do, there are probably plenty of ways that you can create something similar to my “Happy Wall” for your position, even if it just consists of pictures of friends and family. Doing something like this can also be great for your mental health, so there is another reason to create something if you don’t have anything yet.

Some of the Door Decs I've saved over the years

Hopefully Mike takes me up on my suggestion to print the message he got and start his own “Happy Wall” but either way, I’m going to keep adding to mine when I can and using it as a tool of reflection and motivation. 

Picture wall with past staffs