GriefSpeak: What would you do?

By: Mari Dias

I’m the type of person who is likely to ask for forgiveness rather than permission. Am I always forgiven? No. Does that discourage me? No.

There are so many examples of this that I could write the great American novel, but the story below may provide sufficient evidence.

I was teaching a Psychology course at a small New England College. It was Friday afternoon, last class of the day. As I dismiss my students, Neil saunters up to my podium and offers up his plans for the weekend.

“Hey Dr. D! Hope you have a great weekend!”

“You as well, Neil. Any plans?”

“Well now that you mention it, Dr. D, yes. I have the keys to my father’s gun cabinet and my parents are away for the weekend.”

I took a deep breath, quieting my response, but it had no effect on the quick jerk of a thousand thoughts in my mind. I thought:

“This is a cry for help. What do I do?”

Fortunately, my thoughts answered me immediately.

“Under no circumstances can you allow Neil to go home. Get him to the school psychologist.”

“Okay Neil, that’s quite a weighty statement. Sounds like you have a plan to suicide. I cannot let you go home. Let’s take a walk over to Dr. Steve’s office.”

“No, Dr. D, I’ll speak with you, but I’m not going to see Dr. Steve.”

We left the building together and walked and walked in circles around the campus, with me hoping against hope that when we neared Dr. Steve’s office Neil might change his mind. He didn’t.

Before long, darkness was imminent, and Neil was in a heightened stage of emotional distress. He had shared his life of abuse and neglect, as well as the bullying throughout high school. He didn’t seem to know how to “fit in” and hated being different. He just wanted it all to end.

Soon the automatic outdoor campus lights came on and it began to rain. I could not let him go home. He wouldn’t go to Dr. Steve, all the buildings were locked for the weekend, and faculty are not allowed to have students in their cars (for any reason). A conundrum for sure.

Society says if we follow the rules there will be no undo consequences. I was aware of all the potential consequences, willing to accept them (even if I lost my job) because I was saving someone’s life. Neil joined me in my car in order to continue talking and remain dry.

He was knee deep in depression and crying uncontrollably. We sat. We talked. We sat. We talked. The rain stopped. He agreed to see Dr. Steve. Thankfully, Dr. Steve’s office light was still on, an offer of hope for both of us. I introduced Neil and Dr. Steve and left, still holding on to the weight of Neil’s distress and also a bit relieved that Neil was finally in the right place.

Fast forward to Monday. I arrived for my morning class early, only to find a message from the Dean. She wanted to see me asap.

“Perhaps she wants to thank me”, I thought, as I headed over to her office. I was met with an academic firing squad of innuendos, outright accusations, and admonishments for my actions.

“Dr. D., what gives you the right to take a student’s mental health issues and address them? Particularly on school property?”

“She’s not going to thank me, that’s for sure”, I thought when I heard her opening statement.

“I saved his life. I let him speak. Calm him down. He felt listened to, less hopeless. He was going to use one of his father’s guns to kill himself.”

“Well that is not your role nor your responsibility, Dr. D. You are a professor. Professors teach. Professors do not counsel. It is not in your contract. In fact, the faculty manual explicitly states, “No faculty, under any condition, may allow a student in their personal vehicle.” (Faculty Manual, 2.1a).

“Yes, I’m aware of that rule but I did what I felt was right. Ethically. Morally. I chose integrity and aspirational ethics over the rules. I have a private practice as well and have malpractice insurance which I concluded was sufficient enough to speak to Neil.”

“We have counselors here, and it is not in your job description! We could get sued if he went home and shot himself after speaking to you on college property!”

“If you cannot follow the rules, we have no choice but to terminate you. And next time (if there is a next time as many would not hire you with this behavior on your record) if this occurs, please tell the student to meet you at a coffee shop down the street so that your university is not culpable.”

That was the end of my 7 years teaching Psychology at a small New England College.

Did I second guess myself? Not for a minute.

Was the university sued? No, because Neil did not shoot himself.

Would I do it the same way again, knowing the outcomes? Absolutely.

Some might say that it is my privilege that allows me to be civilly disobedient. Civil disobedience is not always about pillaging, rioting, and looting. Sometimes it is about going against an unfair rule or law, for the good. Could I financially afford to lose my job? No. But I couldn’t not do what I did and live with myself.

I didn’t ask for permission, and in the end, I asked for understanding. I didn’t need or want their forgiveness. My conscience was/is clear.

When I applied for a teaching position at another university, they asked me why I left my former teaching position after 7 years. I told them the truth. I told them the story.

“If the same situation occurred at our university, would you make the same choices?

“Yes, and if this university would respond in the same way, it’s not the place for me.”

They wouldn’t. I was hired, not in spite of, but because of my strong ethical stance.

What would you have done?

Dr. Mari Dias is a nationally board-certified counselor, holds a Fellow in Thanatology and is certified in both grief counseling and complicated grief.

She is Professor of Clinical Mental Health, Master of Science program, Johnson & Wales University. Dias is the director of GracePointe Grief Center, in North Kingstown, RI.  For more information, go to:  http://gracepointegrief.com/