Health Educator

           

by Matthew L. Arnett 

Note: This post was written by an Our Lady of the Lake College student in fall 2016.            

 “This class - room is my OR, and these students are my patients.”  The words ring out and resonate in both of my ears as Renee N., an RN of almost 20 years, takes the front of the class.  Students begin to pile in, and she does not hesitate to begin the lesson.  She stands at around five feet two inches tall and has dark hair that reaches for her back but is stopped abruptly by the greed of her shoulders.  “Today class, we have a special visitor” she explains “He is a former student of mine, and he is here to observe me.”  I feel my face get warm and my cheeks brighten as ten pair of eyes, all carrying a wealth of opinions and beliefs behind them, focus on me.  The students’ gazes are quickly interrupted by Mrs. Renee’s authoritative interjection.  She declares in a dominate voice that today they will be continuing their practice of vital signs and CPR.  The students’ mixed expressions are telling of their future intent.  Some smile, and some seem almost disgusted with the thought of CPR.  Mrs. Renee leans over and whispers to me in a hushed voice, “You know a lot has changed since you left my class.  It is no longer called CNA, but it is now considered Pre- Nursing.”  

            Renee N. knew at a young age that she wanted to be a teacher.  She prepared all throughout grade school and had every intention of pursuing her calling with a college degree in education.  That calling was re- directed when she came across a scholarship her junior year that required her to volunteer at a hospital.  She accepted with a smile, content with the reward the scholarship awarded.  She never dreamed she would end up having a complete shift in vocation.  While volunteering, she helped a young boy suffering from a neurodegenerative disease walk for the first time in months.  She was so inspired and in awe at the smile she helped produced, she changed directions, applied to college for pre nursing, and never looked back. 

            As I sit in the corner of the class, I watch all the students congregate around Mrs. Renee.  She urges the students to really focus on this particular skill.  “Learning CPR is one of the most valuable skills you will learn in my class.”  She goes on to explain a story of when she had to use CPR in the Neonatal ICU when she worked at Women’s Hospital.  With the memory burning in her mind, she explains to every student and college observer how without the knowledge of CPR, an infant on her floor would have faced eternity, but through her training and education of the skill, she was able to save the child.  The story is so compelling that I want to shout “Selah,” as though she is David from the Bible, recording a psalm.  I am not the only one who is mesmerized.  I can see it in the faces of her students.  The ones who earlier were not enthused at the thought of repeatedly throwing their weight on a mannequin, seem to have a different glint in their eyes.  They begin to ask questions, and Mrs. Renee answers apprehensively, making sure to maintain the laws of HIPPA. 

            A little while later there is no talking in the class - room except for the occasional yell for the AED, or the command to call an ambulance.  Hearing the sound of mannequins being brought back from the grave at the hands of eager high schoolers, brings me back to my junior year.  I reflect on how inspirational Mrs. Renee’s stories always were and how they inspired me to work harder at the task we were tackling that week.  My thoughts quickly return to reality as Mrs. Renee stands before me.  She asks me how college is going and I explain to her that I really like it, but I miss having her as a teacher.  Before she can ask another question, we are interrupted by a female student with long blond hair and a dense patch of freckles entrenching her nose.  She asks Mrs. Renee if she can move on to practicing vital signs.  With a nod she is excused and blood pressure cuffs begin to be passed around like an offering plate on a Sunday morning.  

            “Who knows why we take vitals?” Mrs. Renee pries. A variety of hands pop up as she scans the room searching for an appropriate candidate to answer. I begin to feel flustered as a memory of a test I almost failed resurfaces like a ship that just won’t sink.  A boy with curly hair blurts out the facts that he studied the night before without her calling on him. “That’s right, and it is important that you all know how to take vitals before we go to clinicals next semester, no matter how long it takes you to master them.”  She nods at me and smiles, referencing her remembrance of my failed attempt to find her pulse a few years back.  My feature in her lesson does not stop there, as she laughingly blurts about how I once had a hard time locating her biracial pulse on a skills exam.  I offer a rebuttal to defend the mishaps of my junior year, but It is no use. The class is amused and I am as well.  It reminds me of the way she used to appeal to me and my classmates.  We were her friends, not just her students.  I smile and leave my pride in the trash, right next to the grade that I had received on the test to which she is referencing. 

            The bell rings and students begin to shift and relocate like fire ants after their pile has been kicked over.  “Remember that we have a test next week.  I love you guys, so be safe this weekend and don’t forget to study!”  The students nod and exit the building with thoughts of the weekend dancing above their heads, drowning out the warnings of a very passionate and concerned Mrs. Renee.  The students have all left and she turns to me.  “So how was it being my shadow for today?” she jokingly says as she smiles.  We begin talking and she commences to interview me on my future plans and career.  I almost forget that I have questions of my own.  She answers intently and seriously and after thanking her profusely, I walk to my truck to head home.  

            Once home, I recall the events of that day and the faces of the class.  To me they are just nameless students, but to Mrs. Renee they are different.  They are her patients and her priority.  After working in the NIC U for more than 13 years, she began to feel like she needed to teach students, to connect with them and give accurate information that only someone who has actually been in the line of duty can give.  She does not see her becoming an instructor as a shift in vocation, but rather an expansion on what she is already called to do.  The hum of a water fountain in the back of the class replaces the hum of a vitals monitor; the sharp pricks of needles are now the sharp tips of pencils, perched and ready to puncture the white staring back at them.  Patients are no longer deprived of an immune system or a body function, but rather lacking vital information.  Through her training, it is her job to resuscitate them through knowledge and lead them to a better understanding of the medical field.  Mrs. Renee is more than a teacher.  She is more than a nurse.  She is a fluid that is needed.  Her vocation saves lives and inspires people like myself to peruse our vocation the way she has pursued hers, whole heartedly and without looking back.