Parent to Parent Drug Prevention

"Anyone interested in attending a continuing education class on drug prevention can earn district credits for going," our principal informed as during one of our weekly faculty meetings.  "The district has bought into a new Parent to Parent Drug Prevention Curriculum that they will be offering to all parents and teachers. An introductory presentation of the program will begin next week.  You can talk to me later if you want to go."

"Drug Prevention classes," I mulled over silently.  "Yuck!  There's no way I want to go to those!"  Just the thought of illegal drugs made me sick to my stomach, and always had.  Ever since dad first talked to us kids about drug abuse I had been scared silly by the thought of LSD, marijuana, and all other drugs.  Still, my children were growing up, becoming teenagers, and a little voice in the back of my head urged me to take advantage of the free classes.  When the faculty meeting ended I found myself walking up to the principal almost against my will. 

"I'd like to take the course," I told her, much to my surprise.  "Please put my name on the list."

As it turned out, I loved the classes.  They were well put together, well presented, very motivational and encouraging, and I came away much wiser and feeling like a better prepared parent.  I enjoyed the classes so much that I volunteered to become one of the presenters, and began teaching Parent to Parent Drug Prevention classes myself.

"If someone can get your child to wear a T-Shirt or put up a poster on their walls advertizing their product, sooner or later your child will buy it," was one of the bits of wisdom taught in the class.  "Go into your kid's room and look at what's on their walls.  Find out what kind of culture they are buying into."

One of my favorite stories told about a dad who's daughter wanted him to buy her a pair of very expensive designer jeans.  This class was about parent's responsibility to provide for their children, and how to differentiate between needs and wants.  "The law requires me to cover your rear end," this father told his daughter, "but I don't have to decorate it!"

I really appreciated the suggestion that we listen more to our gut.  When warning bells start going off in your head, pay attention, even if you  can't explain why you feel uneasy.  There are subtle signs triggering those warning bells, and even though you may not be able to explain why you feel uneasy, there's still a good reason.

I recognized the truth in this the first time I heard it, but I soon discovered that it's hard to do.  I began teaching this four-week course to parents and other teachers in my classroom on Tuesday evenings.  At the beginning of one set of classes a fellow walked into my room and really set my warning bells off.  He was in his late twenties, had shoulder length hair, and looked like a wanna-be hippie left over from the sixties.  I was shocked to discover that he was a Junior High School American History Teacher. 

"What's he doing taking a drug prevention class?" I wondered.  "He looks like a poster-boy for drug pushers." 

As soon as the class began, though, I began to feel bad for my judgmental reaction.  This young man knew every answer to all my questions.  He knew all the facts about the dangers of drugs, in fact he was more informed and educated than I was.  By the end of class I was really shaking my head, disgusted with myself for having judged so harshly.

The following Monday our school psychologist called and asked if I could visit with him for a minute in his office. 

"Sit down, Gale," he told me when I walked in his door.  "I'm afraid I have some bad news for you."

I looked at him in surprise, wondering what on earth he had to tell me. 

"Do you remember a young man who was in your drug prevention class last week?" he asked.  "He was a teacher at the Junior High?"

"Yes," I said.

"I'm afraid," the psychologist said gently, "that he has passed away."

I looked at him in surprise.

"I wanted to tell you in person, before you heard it through the grape vine," the psychologist continued.  "Apparently this young man has had a drug problem for years.  He was arrested and put on probation a few months ago, and part of that probation said he had to attend drug prevention classes.  That's why he started your course.   He was doing really good, had been clean for quite awhile, but last Saturday night he met up with some old friends, they talked him into partying with them, and somehow he overdosed.  He died last night."

I was flabbergasted, and very sad.  But a little voice in the back of my head whispered, "It's just like you've been teaching.  I need to listen to those warning bells, even when they make me feel like I'm being mean or too judgmental."