After student suicides, schools must help kids deal with grief
Certain steps can help healing, prevent injury
Min Olson remembers sitting in class when the announcement began. Her friend, Megan Eisold, had died. Counselors were available to help students.
Olson had become friends with Eisold in middle school, during an art class. They shared an interest in drawing, liked the same kind of music and followed the British science-fiction show “Doctor Who.”
They also were coping with mental health issues.
“She was kind of like my other half,” Olson said. “We both had depression so we both were able to talk to each other
about it. We were the only people that knew you had to cope with it. We were each other’s support systems when we didn’t have any other people to talk to about it.”
Eisold was 16 and a sophomore at North High School in Eau Claire when she died by suicide on May 29, 2016. Teachers were instructed to read a two sentence message during their second period classes.
“It is with great sadness that we report that sophomore Megan Eisold passed away this weekend,” the message said, according to a copy provided by Dave Reidt, a North High guidance counselor. “Our deepest sympathy goes out to all of Megan’s friends and family.”
Olson remembers no class discussion. There was the announcement, then lessons.
“I think I reacted the worst to it. I was really pissed off at these people. I didn’t want these people to say anything about her. I was having breakdowns about it, and the school didn’t really do anything for students.”
At least that’s the way it seemed to her.
Her experience provides a window into one of the most critical challenges facing schools when such a tragedy occurs: making sure other students, particularly those with shaky mental health themselves, don’t head down the same path.
That concern was tragically underscored just three months later.
Schools need a plan
When Gregg Curtis travels the state to train educators on suicide prevention, part of his day focuses on how schools respond immediately after a suicide.
Done correctly, he tells educators, certain steps can foster healing and avoid further loss of life. Other steps heighten risks to vulnerable teens. Discussing the method of a suicide or glamorizing a loss through permanent memorials, for example, can increase risks.
Youth suicide rates in Wisconsin are among the highest in the nation and growing in some parts of the state. Yet Curtis, a state Department of Public Instruction consultant, said the schools he works with often don’t mention suicide in their crisis response plans.
“We really try to emphasize the urgency to have a plan and practice,” Curtis said. “Unfortunately the ones who are most versed in having a plan in place are the ones who’ve had a suicide.”
Schools without plans are often left scrambling or learning through trial and error. Too often, Curtis said, schools ask him for help planning a prevention campaign after a suicide, missing the need for healing first.
For the past two years, USA TODAY NETWORK-Wisconsin has examined gaps in youth mental health services through the series “Kids in Crisis.” The series detailed shortages of mental health counselors; efforts to combat stigma about depression and other illnesses; and a patchwork of new initiatives aimed at helping families.
The series last year inspired state lawmakers to budget $7 million for school mental health. With the funding, the state will provide more training for school staff, boost the ranks of school social workers, and help schools set up clinical partnerships with local health providers.
The additional funding sparked a push for schools across Wisconsin to play a bigger role in recognizing students in distress and getting them help. But state education authorities don’t track where students die from suicide or how school crisis plans address responding to suicides. Though best practices from national organizations have been widely available for years, there is no uniform adoption of them in Wisconsin. Often the public doesn’t learn until survivors air criticism — like the family and friends of Megan Eisold.
For several days after Eisold died, for example, the school sent automated phone messages to her family that she had missed school, said her brother Zach, then a senior. The family had to contact the school to stop the messages.
Zach was excused from returning to school for final exams after his sister died. But the school required him to return his books in person, Zach said.
“That was the worst time to go in there. Everybody just looked at me,” he said. “I couldn’t stand going back in there.”
Reidt said Zach returning his books in person might have been a misunderstanding. He said the school would have had no issue with another family member or a friend returning his books. Reidt also said the automated messages should not have continued under school crisis plans.
Olson felt like the adults at her school wanted to help but didn’t know exactly how. They offered broad empathy, but she said the gestures felt hollow.
Reidt said more staff training on mental health has been at the forefront
of the school’s attention, and the Eau Claire school district is working to update its crisis response plans this year.
“We do take mental health seriously, and we do know it is a concern across all communities in the U.S.,” Reidt said.
‘We had a huge gap’
Four days before Eisold died, a teen took her life in neighboring Chippewa Falls. A few months later, the Chippewa Falls school district convened a group of faith, medical, emergency and community leaders to review their response to suicide.
“We had a huge gap in ‘postvention,’” said Superintendent Heidi Eliopoulos, referring to response plans for the immediate aftermath of a suicide.
Eliopoulos said the school district had a plan. But she didn’t know whether it followed best practices, and the broader community appeared out of the loop. Everyone was just following their “best instincts,” she said.
Eliopoulos said students in Chippewa Falls were notified of the suicide by their first period teachers. Dr. Doreen Marshall, from the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, said small groups are encouraged for such situations because teens are more comfortable asking questions, discussing trauma or seeking help in those settings.
“Also in those discussions, it gives the teachers some opportunity (to see) how her students are reacting and whether there is something of concern,” Marshall said. “We know there are probably students struggling in silence.”
In November last year, the Chippewa Falls group released a community-wide handbook with recommendations from its research. Eliopoulos said she was pleased how much her school district actually had followed best practices. The biggest change after the review: Now teachers and other staff are trained specifically on post-suicide practices and the reasons for them. Previously, staff only received limited instructions in response to a death.
Eliopoulos said the review wasn’t in response to a single loss but came amid rising concerns in the community about mental health, as well as several teen deaths across the Chippewa Valley in 2016.
A year earlier, Eau Claire authorities identified mental health as a top concern and began taking new steps to address it. Lieske Giese, an Eau Claire government health official, said her agency started teaching “Question, Persuade and Refer” to educators and students last year. QPR teaches how to recognize suicidal behavior and connect people with help. A regional coalition of government, school, and medical partners also received a $1 million grant last year for programs designed to help students at risk of having depression.
Moms try to help
Eisold’s mom, Missy Ojibway, often receives calls from other parents desperate for guidance. She has felt at times like the “suicide mom in Chippewa Valley,” she said.
“I can’t go out to dinner with my other half without somebody saying something to me: ‘My kid’s going through it. I don’t know what to do,’ ” Ojibway said.
She does her best in her daughter’s memory.
“If there’s anything that I can do that’s going to make her happy, it’s going to be save another kid,” she said.
Debbra Judnic is trying to make a difference in the community, too. She created a nonprofit named after her 15year-old daughter, Janna, the girl who killed herself four days before Eisold.
“I think I reacted the worst to it. I was really pissed off at these people. I didn’t want these people to say anything about her. I was having breakdowns about it, and the school didn’t really do anything for students.” Min Olsen A student at North High School in Eau Claire, explaining how she reacted after it was announced at school that her friend and classmate Megan Eisold had died in May 2016
Janna attended Chippewa Falls High School.
Journey on Janna teaches coping skills, helps families connect with resources and organizes community events. This spring, it will be organizing a second annual 5K to raise funds and awareness for youth mental health.
“I just wanted to do something,” Judnic said. “I didn’t ever want to see a parent go through what we did.”
Ojibway and Judnic both said their daughter’s high schools lacked adequate counseling services and attention to mental health. Judnic was pleased to learn that the Chippewa Falls district recently hired a family crisis worker.
“The support for us absolutely was not there from the school,” she said.
Eisold’s last weeks
After Eisold died, friends and family said she had increasingly struggled with depression, alcohol and academics in high school. She didn’t get along with some school staff. Her mom said she had “big mouth and a big personality.” She skipped classes or paid little attention to lessons.
Jesse River, one of Eisold’s friends, said Eisold voiced frustrations about how the school would respond to her anxiety attacks.
“She’d have mental breakdowns at school and they would take her out of the classroom, but they wouldn’t really help her calm down from them,” River recalled. “They just put her in a room by herself and let her try to calm down by herself, which wasn’t very helpful.”
Olson said Eisold stopped seeking help from a school counselor after twice reporting student harassment and feeling nothing happened as a result. Counselors appeared more interested in discussing grades or attendance than underlying issues, such as her mental health, Eisold’s family and friends said.
“She needs to do her homework. She needs to participate in gym class. But we’re like, the issue is getting to be a little bigger than this,” Ojibway said. “It
was all academic. (Eisold’s counselor) could not point us in the way of mental health help.”
Reidt said therapy isn’t the focus of counselors’ work or training. Rather, they try to connect students with the resources they need. Three private therapists visit the school, he said, but these services may cost families depending on their insurance.
“No school counselor is a professional therapist,” he said. “We’re trained in mental health but that’s not the service we’re supposed to be providing longterm.”
For months after Eisold’s death, Olson blamed herself. The night of her suicide, Eisold sent a text message to Olson asking if she would be hospitalized with her. Eisold wanted them to be admitted together.
Olson offered to go with Eisold to the hospital but she wouldn’t check herself in. She worried the step could set back her own healing and academics. She urged Eisold to contact her social worker.
“I know you want me to be there, but I can’t do that,” Olson recalled saying. “That’s going to hinder me and I can’t do that to myself. I have school. I’m finally starting to get better.”
The next morning, while preparing for a school band performance, Olson received a text asking if she was OK. She was confused about the question. Her friend suggested she look at Facebook.
“It was everywhere,” she said about the references to Eisold’s death. “‘I miss you’ and all these pictures. I was like, ‘Is this some kind of sick joke. What the hell happened?’” Olson said. “I found out that she killed herself a couple hours after I messaged her.”
Rachel Pederson, a friend of Eisold, said the death in 2016 prompted a suicide awareness campaign at her school when students returned after summer break. McKinley Charter School in Eau Claire posted signs and contacted parents about recognizing signs of mental illness, she said.
Pederson had attended North High School with Eisold but had similar trouble keeping up. She also struggled with anxiety and medication changes, and ended up missing a lot of school.
Pederson said her new school has been more accommodating of her mental health needs.
“I love my charter school,” she said. “They would just talk to me and make sure I was doing OK.”
“We really try to emphasize the urgency to have a plan and practice. Unfortunately the ones who are most versed in having a plan in place are the ones who’ve had a suicide.” Gregg Curtis, consultant for Department of Public Instruction