Email to my High School Guidance Counselor

Dear Mrs. Stokes,

For years I have considered contacting you to tell you what kind of impact you had on me as a teenager. However, I never found the motivation to seek you out. It wasn't important to me to say what I had imagined would have been gratifying to say to you. Nevertheless I found myself looking up old friends on classmates.com. And then looking at Mariner's website. In fact, I was actually trying to find Ms. Schaefbauer when I saw your email. Thus I was prompted to write you.

As a student at Mariner HS I was part of the group of students with whom you were to act as guidance counselor. I had moved around so often and was so afraid of being labeled "slut" or some other common derogatory thing that I insisted that we change my name when I came to Mariner. Instead of being Amy Burns (my legal name), I went by Aime Leathers. I lived half the time with my aunt and uncle behind the school, and the other half the time with my mom and her mentally/emotionally abusive boyfriend. Other times I stayed with friends, slept in my truck, or stayed with my boyfriend.

No one in my family had ever gone to college, and just about all of us were working-poor. It never occurred to me that college was a possibility for me. In fact, I expected I would just try to stay sober, without child, eventually graduate from high school, and maybe get into hair school. Fortunately, my boyfriend was headed for college and the fear of losing him was petrifying - he had been a large part of my survival. He was applying for Western Washington University, so I determined I would go too. With no one to help me, I painstakingly filled out the application, occasionally getting help from him. I finished my class work early in History so that I could go to the computer lab and work on my entrance essays. I had adults from Snohomish County Youth Initiative and Ms. Schaefbauer write me letters of recommendation. This was not easy for someone in my circumstances to accomplish. I had to fight and beg and plead to borrow money from my mom's boyfriend to pay for the application fee - this came at a high price for both my mom and me.

I had gathered all of my application materials together and brought them in to you, to be sent to Western. You forced a smiled when I came into your office and took my application and check. It wasn't enough money, the fee had changed. All I could think of was "Where will I get ten more dollars?" Unfortunately that wasn't the only problem. You said to me "It's great that you are thinking about college. Western is a good school. I'm worried that you may not get in though because your grades aren't high, and Western is very competitive. Are you applying anywhere else?" "No," I answered, already stunned by what I was hearing. You continued with a tone and look of letting someone down, "Well, I it's great that you are interested in Western, but I think you should consider Everett Community College. If you apply to Western and don't get in then you will be able to go Everett. Your grades aren't high enough to get you into Western. You could still apply though." I was crushed. You told me to bring my application back with a check for the correct amount and sat back down.

I took the application and left your office. I wanted to die. I was devastated, embarrassed, humiliated, disappointed, angry, and defeated. I had put so much effort into deciding to go to college, completing that application, and getting that money and there was nothing left in me to combat any amount of discouragement. I felt my future hinged on that application. I fiercely tore that application and check into tiny pieces. I ripped it to shreds while I tears streamed down my face and I told myself that I didn't want to go anyway and that I was an idiot for thinking I could. I would just try not to end up a teen parent like my mom and would maybe waitress for a living when I graduated.

Now, the only thing that matters is what I perceived as true, how vulnerable I was, and how much power and impact a single authority figure has on a child. What I needed at that moment was for you to smile genuinely, tell me that you were proud of me for applying, that you would support me in any reasonable way that you could, that I could get in, and that we should work out a plan of attack to bring my grades up and make sure I completed the admission requirements. Maybe you could have even asked me if I would be able to get the additional money I needed for the application fee and helped me find some organization or place where I could get that extra ten dollars. And if you didn't have time to work with me on these details, maybe you could have found someone who did have time for me. I needed a cheerleader, not someone to tell me that I may not make it. I already knew I might not make it- in fact, it felt like the whole world was working really hard to make sure I wouldn't make it. I needed to hear that I was good enough and could do/be anything I wanted.

Fortunately the story does have a happy ending. After 4 months of bitter anger and rebellion, plus some guidance and support from the adults at the youth program and from Ms. Schaefbauer, I filled out the application again for Western, went through hell a second time to get money from my mom's boyfriend, and brought it to you. I was not going to waste money on an application to community college or be deterred from applying to a good school. I knew I was a leader and a survivor, and I was not going to let you stop me from succeeding. Except that my application would be late, there was no reason I could see preventing my acceptance into Western. My GPA was only 2.9, and would easily be 3.0 by the end of the year. I had shown great improvement in my junior and senior years.

Three days before graduation, I moved into a transitional housing program for homeless youth - Friends of Youth. I was on food stamps, was working at Cocoon House teen shelter 10 hours a week to earn gas money and money for senior night, received a $500 scholarship for school, and was accepted by Western for Winter 95. I graduated with a 3.0. Amazingly, in late July I received a letter from Western telling me that there was space for me to come for Fall 94 if I wanted to. I jumped at the chance and started my freshman year of college alone, with excitement and fear. I ultimately transferred to Washington State University where I was active in student government in various positions with the ASWSU GLBTA, including Female Co-chair my senior year. I worked my way through school with no financial help from my parents, although I did have Section 8 housing and food stamps. And in only 4.5 years of college I graduated Cum Laude with two Bachelors degrees - BA Women's Studies, BA Comparative American Cultures with an emphasis in Asian American Studies.

Following college I worked for Cocoon House Teen Shelter and the Cocoon Complex, as well as for Teen Hope, and Auburn Youth Resources. It was my goal to make youth feel important, cared for, nurtured, and supported.

Today I live in Boston, MA with my partner of 2 years. We own a condo in the city. I am both HR and Network Administrator in my small 16 person company. I am a painter, ceramicist, writer, webmaster, computer geek, and a student of life. My family is still screwed up and I still have problems, but my life improves daily. I love myself, my job, my partner, and my home. Although I survived and even began to live, I almost didn't. And I would much rather have been able to write to you and tell you how wonderful it was to have your support and care in some of the roughest times of my life than to be writing you to ask you to be mindful of how great of an impact you make on every single young person you come into contact with. You are an authority figure, and for some you are one of the only people who they can trust. When you tell a child something they take it as gospel, and they may not understand that you are trying to help prevent disappointment. What they hear is "Gee, you aren't good enough, why bother?" Every single child has potential. Even if we can't see it, it's in there. And even the slightest glimmer of hope is enough to make the difference between giving up all hope and succeeding beyond all expectations.

Aime Leathers / Amy L. Burns, Mariner Class of 1994