The Day I Had to Tell My Students Their Principal Had Committed Suicide

This a story about the hardest day of teaching that I have ever experienced.

“Curt, this is John,” the man on the other end of the phone line said.

I recognized him. It was the vice principal from the high school where I taught math.

Why was he calling me at 9 p.m. on a Wednesday night?

“I do not know if you have been told yet. I wanted you to know that Bob passed away tonight.”

“What? Bob. Bob is dead?” I asked in disbelief.

“Yes, they found his body in the garage,” he bluntly said.

“What do you mean, found his body? Was he killed? Did someone kill him?” I asked confused.

“No, nothing like that. They haven’t said the cause of death. It looks like suicide,” he explained.

“No, not Bob. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t,” I continued flustered.

“Well, sorry to tell you this way. There is a meeting a 6:30 a.m. before school in the library if you can make it. I have to make some more phone calls if you don’t need anything else.”

“Oh, okay. Sure,” I said in a daze. I had no idea what else to say. I simply replied, “See you tomorrow.”

I hung up the phone in disbelief.

Suicide.

No, they had to be wrong, I thought.

Bob was my boss. He was the principal of the school. He was also my good friend. I had known him for years.

He was one of those bosses that didn’t let the power structure interfere with becoming friends. We had golfed together, ridden bicycles together, and drank many beers together.

He was also one of the smartest and most practical men I had ever known.

He handled stress well. He was critical of people who were lazy and people who took the easy way out.

There was no way he committed suicide. There must be a mistake, I thought.

But, as more facts came to light, it certainly seemed to be suicide.

He was found in his car with the engine running in his garage with the garage door closed.

Even then, I told myself he must have had a brain aneurysm as he pulled into the garage. Starting to shut the garage door before he had a chance to turn off the car.

I am not kidding. Those thoughts went through my head. I was creating fantastic explanations to ignore the truth that was right in front of me.

I had to come to terms with the truth. It was, indeed, a suicide.

Bob had committed suicide.

That night, I thought back to my last encounter with him. It happened three hours before he went home to kill himself.

I was at school and there had been a problem with my paycheck. I had not received money for a supplemental that I was involved in.

I went to his office with paycheck in hand to point it out to him. His door was open, and he was sitting at his desk.

“Hey Curt,” he said I as walked in. “Good to see you.”

He got up and started to shut the door behind me. That was something he only did when he wanted to have a personal conversation. He wanted to talk as friends, not as staff members.

I was in a hurry and didn’t really want to get into a long conversation.

I had no idea at the time how heavy the thoughts in his head actually were. I thought he just wanted to vent about some staff members not doing what they were supposed to do.

I put my foot in front of the door to keep it from shutting.

“No,” I said, “I don’t have time. I just wanted to let you know my paycheck is still not right. They forgot the supplemental again.”

“Okay,” he said, nodding his head and sighing, “I will take care of it tomorrow.”

He wrote himself a note on a Post-it note and placed it next to a line of about six Post-it notes on his otherwise tidy desk.

“Well, okay. Thanks,” I said, “See you later.”

“Bye,” he simply said. It was the last thing he ever said to me.

Of course, as I have replayed that day a thousand times, I wish I had not blocked the door. I wished I had sat down and talked to him.

But I didn’t know. I had no idea how bad things had gotten in his head. I was completely unaware of any dark thoughts that he had entertained.

To my knowledge, I thought he was one of the happiest and well-adjusted humans I had ever met.

Hindsight is, indeed, twenty-twenty. I have regrets but don’t really feel too guilty about that afternoon.

I have thought about that Post-it note he wrote. He put it next to six other Post-it notes.

At that moment, he had planned to address my issue the next day. There were six other issues he had written down that he also planned to address.

At that moment, I am certain he was planning on being at school the next day.

What had happened in the three hours between that moment and the moment that he committed suicide? It is a question that has yet to be answered by anyone as far as I know.

As I said, there are certain things I wish I had done differently that afternoon, but I will never know if it would have made a difference.

I do know, however, that I was sad about the loss of my friend. It hurt me to think about how miserable he must have been. My stomach ached thinking about how much pain he had been keeping bottled up inside of him.

The morning after the incident, in the library at school, thirty minutes before the students were to arrive, we had one of the most uncomfortable faculty meetings I had ever been in.

The district had sent professional counselors to help grieving teachers and students.

Some teachers cried loudly, some had tears rolling down their faces, and some just stared straight ahead stoically as they listened to the talking points we were supposed to go over with the students.

What? I thought. How can I possibly talk to students about this? Bob was a good friend. I wasn’t sure how I was handling this myself. How could I possibly be in front of students and talk to them about how to cope with this in a mere fifteen minutes?

Knowing that I was close friends with Bob, one of my fellow teachers approached me.

“How are you doing, Curt?” he asked.

“Alright, I guess. I am not sure how I am going to get through this day when the kids arrive,” I answered truthfully.

“Why don’t you tell John? He said they could have someone cover our classes if we felt we needed them to,” he offered.

“No,” I decided, “I can do this. It’s just going to be tough.”

“I know what you mean,” his only reply and he walked away.

I went to my classroom and waited for the students to arrive.

The kids started trickling into the classroom. The halls were quiet. The kids were silent.

They knew already. The media had already reported it. Their parents probably had told them.

When the first bell rang, I looked at twenty-seven eyes looking at me for guidance. Twenty-seven humans looked to me to say something that would explain the world to them.

They were just teenagers. Many had never experienced the death of someone they knew. Bob was a popular principal and well-liked by the student body.

As I got up, I had no idea what I was going to say. I had no idea if I was going to be able to say what I needed to say without breaking down.

But, somehow, I found the right words. And somehow, I never broke down.

I don’t remember what I said to them. I don’t even remember what we talked about.

I do know, after twenty minutes, I said, “Well, maybe we all could use a little distraction. Why don’t you get out your math books and turn to page 42.”

They groaned but they got out their books and supplies.

I think it helped to do something normal. It certainly helped me. As the day went on, it felt more and more normal to keep teaching.

It really was what the kids wanted me to do. It was what I wanted to do.

I think it is what Bob would have wanted me to do.

Fifteen years later, I am still here. I can stand in front of a roomful of learners and say, “Open your math books. Let’s get started,” like an old pro. It’s what I do best.

Age and wisdom have me looking at the students a little differently now, however.

Time and experiences have softened my edges when it comes to relationships with students, colleagues, family, and friends.

Now, when someone wants to talk, I try never to put my foot in front of the door and say I am too busy. Life is too short to be that busy.

The U.S. National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is simply 988 or you can dial 800–273-TALK (8255) any time day or night, or chat online.

If you know of help lines in other countries, feel free to add the number in the comments.