Washington - It was, Brittni Darras said, the first time she had ever cried at a parent-teacher conference.
Darras, a 25-year-old English teacher at a Colorado high school, was speaking with a mother, who came to the meeting with a list of her daughter's teachers.
Next to each of the names was a “yes” or “no,” indicating whether the girl wanted her mother to reveal the reason she hadn't been in classes for a couple weeks, Darras said.
“And so when her mom sat down, she said, 'you have a yes next to your name,' “ Darras said.
So the mother relayed the story: Her daughter had deleted her social media accounts and written letters to those closest to her. That she had attempted suicide. That the police rushed in and stopped her, and the girl was missing school because she was recovering in a hospital.
“And her mom was sitting there in tears,” Darras told The Washington Post. “I started crying. Her mom said that she had no idea.”
The news was a shock to Darras, too.
“She's beautiful. She has friends. She comes to class, and she's laughing. She's the top in my class, always has As, always does the best job on the assignments,” Darras said. “She's just a phenomenal, phenomenal human being. So I never would have guessed that she was struggling.”
Darras wrote a letter to the girl, delivered to the hospital via the girl's mother, telling her how much she cared, how the girl was missed in class, and that they wanted her back.
“Her daughter's reaction was that she was amazed that somebody could say such sweet things because she didn't think anybody would miss her if she was gone,” Darras said.
That, Darras said, was when she realised “something had to be done”.
“Because hearing that from somebody who is so bright, so beautiful, so fun - to understand that she didn't think that she had a purpose, she didn't think that anybody cared, that's the hardest thing,” Darras said. “Because I wouldn't have expected it from her. So that's just when I realised that something had to be done to make these students realise that they each are special, and they do matter.”
Here's what Darras did: Over a two-month span, she composed about 130 notes that went to all of her students, she shared on Facebook last week. The messages were handwritten, so the students knew each note was authentic and took time to compose.
She wrote cards in an airport, during a weekend trip. She wrote them at school, during odd hours after everyone else had left for the day. She sat on her back porch and wrote. Then, after the students finished their final exams, she handed out the cards before the bell rang, she said.
It was possible the high school kids wouldn't care, or at least would play it cool. Darras said she didn't think they'd even feel comfortable reading the cards on the spot. But they did open them. One student jumped up and held her card in the air, saying she'd keep it forever. Parents emailed, saying their sons or daughters shared the notes.
As her last class filed out of the room, Darras said, every single student gave her a hug on the way out the door.
“Which was really powerful,” she said.
Darras said she hoped her effort was a reminder that everyone has the capacity to make a difference - even with a simple note of encouragement. Or, in her case, 130 notes of encouragement.
“I want these kids to know that they're special, and that they've made an impact, and they are each unique in their own way. And seeing them light up, and have this huge smile across their face, and jumping up to give me a hug,” she said, “that's all I could ask for in the world.”
Sarah Larimer, Washington Post