Kids in crisis: how Sackets Harbor is creatively tackling the mental health needs of their students

Amy FeiereiselKids in crisis: how Sackets Harbor is creatively tackling the mental health needs of their students

School districts across the North Country received millions of dollars in federal COVID-19 stimulus funding this year. The point of all that money was to address the cost of pandemic. Think PPE and new HVAC systems. But also missed learning, literacy issues, and the emotional toll of a worldwide crisis.

Sackets Harbor Central School, in Jefferson County on Lake Ontario,  decided to use a big chunk of their money to create a new space, called The Sackets Support Center. It’s an academic, emotional, and mental health support center in the heart of the school.

A different sort of school space

Students working at the puzzle table inside the Sackets Support Center. Photo courtesy of Sonya Esposito.
Students working at the puzzle table inside the Sackets Support Center. Photo courtesy of Sonya Esposito.

A lot of kids will come in and out of the Sackets Support Center in a day, and many of them will visit the 'puzzle table'. Imagine a thousand puzzle pieces spread out on a card table, and kids hovering over them, trying to find just the right piece. It’s something to do while talking about an issue, a less stressful way for kids to socialize.

In the two-room Sackets Support Center, there's also has a hot chocolate station, lots of tables for working and playing games, and a plethora of seating options: pillows, rocking chairs, beanbags.

It’s designed to be a haven, a place for middle and highschool students to go when they need space, quiet, connection, or if they're in crisis.

Senior Nicolas Arthur often comes in during his study hall. He says, “it helps me just to come in here and just do my work.” He, like a lot of kids, is a fan of the beanbags. He'll also come here “to relax, or socialize like when I have a stressful day.”

Re-thinking how schools deal with mental health

The Sackets Support Center is brand new. It and its staff were paid for with federal COVID-19 stimulus funds.

A quiet reading nook inside the center.
A quiet reading nook inside the center.

In the past, any student who couldn’t stay in the classroom went to the principal. Crying kids, angry kids, overwhelmed kids - they all went to Principal Amy Fiedler-Horack's office.“Before we had the center open I would say that I was dealing with a lot of the kids they’re dealing with now.”

The stimulus money gave them a chance to re-think that process by creating the center. It's essentially a triage space, with two fulltime teachers. Kids are sent there by teachers, or referred by their parents, or they self-select to visit.

Sometimes they just hang out, sometimes they want to talk through an issue, and sometimes they need to be referred on to the school counselor or psychologist.

A lifeline for staff as students' mental health needs rise

 Fiedler-Horack says the center has worked better than they could have hoped, and that they have very much leaned on the center to help handle an increase in mental health needs.

 “Without it this year I don’t know how we would be functioning, to be quite honest."

That’s because a lot more kids need support right now. The pandemic has taken a  serious toll on students’ mental health, says superintendent Jennifer Gaffney. “We have 1 or more students in crisis every day." For a small school that used to see one crisis case a week, that's a big deal, says Gaffney. “It can tax our systems, we have one school counselor, we have one principal!”

Struggling to adjust to a new normal

It’s an issue schools everywhere are having to confront. A recent study published in JAMA Pediatrics found that cases of depression and anxiety in children nearly doubled in just the first year of the pandemic.

Kids are struggling to operate normally in such a bizarre and ever-changing world, says Jennifer Berie, one of the two teachers who run the SSC.  

“I’ve said to the kids: the last time you had a normal year was three years ago, it’s going to be an adjustment. And I think that kind of helps them, because they feel like they should be able to handle it. And I’m like, i't’s ok, it’s ok'."

Jennifer Berrie and Sonya Esposito inside the Sackets Support Center.
Jennifer Berrie and Sonya Esposito inside the Sackets Support Center.

The veteran teachers leading the charge

Berie's partner is Sonya Esposito. They are veteran teachers, with a combined 50 years of teaching between them. It shows in the way they interact with students. Berie is warm and calming, Esposito knows how to make kids laugh with her sarcastic and direct wit.

They were chosen to staff the center because kids have always gravitated towards them. But as full time teachers, they never had enough time to spend with kids. Now they do. And they’ve been busy, they said. The first few weeks were actually a little overwhelming.

They wondered if kids would even come to the center, if it might have a stigma attached. The opposite happened. Esposito says they had thirty kids in the center during one period in the first week, and that they eventually instituted a pass system, to try and keep a cap of 8 kids in the center per period.

She says they deal with a kid in 'crisis', think full meltdown mode, about once a day. Esposito jokes that she takes the yellers, and Berie takes the criers.

But they also get kids who want academic help, or tutoring. Kids that are feeling panicked and want to sit alone for a little while. Parents have reached out to ask if their kid can visit, and teachers will deliver students they believe need help.

The vast majority of kids, say Esposito and Berie,  are just looking for a quiet moment and a friendly ear. Then they're able to get back to their day.

Re-socializing and what kids are struggling with

Students inside the Sackets Support Center. Photo courtesy of Sonya Esposito.
Students inside the Sackets Support Center. Photo courtesy of Sonya Esposito.

There’s a lot to be overwhelmed by right now. Some kids are coming back to the building for the first time in 18 months. In-person students got used to staying in one classroom, keeping their six foot distance, and not talking very much. “They’ve been separated for so long, that normal interactions are awkward now,” explained Berie.

Like eating lunch. The cafeteria reopened this fall, and that’s been stressful for a lot of kids.

Esposito is on lunch duty, and she’s standing on the raised steps at the end of the cafeteria, scanning the room as kids pour in. I can see the uncertainty on a lot of kids’ faces as they face the room with trays of food, and Esposito explains their mindset.   

“Am I sitting near someone who makes me cool, do I feel safe? Is there too much chao, is everyone fooling around and making me anxious?”  

Last year they ate in their classrooms with the same kids every day, at their desks. It was predictable and quiet.

The Sackets Center is predictably popular during lunch. Kids will bring their food there, or come up after they finish. I worked on the puzzle with some of the lunch regulars. It’s like a re-socialization program, trying to make up for a lot of pandemic isolation.  

Looking for connection

Students working inside the Sackets Support Center. Photo courtesy of Sonya Esposito.
Students working inside the Sackets Support Center. Photo courtesy of Sonya Esposito.

Students are very much looking for the socialization and connection that the SSC offers. The Center had over 900 visits in the first month of school. Cell phones aren’t allowed in the center, to promote socialization between students, and that hasn't seemed to deter students at all.

Every passing period, Berie and Esposito can be found writing passes, as kids come pouring in the door asking if there’s availability for their study hall or lunch period. The high schoolers ask for the passes in bored voices, but come their designated time, all they want to do is play UNO with Esposito, or joke around with Berie at the puzzle table. They do work, chit-chat, sit and read.

Most aren’t actively in crisis, but it might be that coming here is helping a lot of kids never get to that point.

Reporter Amy Feiereisel is a 2021 EWA Fellow. This story was produced with support from the Education Writers Association Reporting Fellowship program.

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