Brooke...

I write with a sad heart tonight.  One of our students was found by her grandmother the day after Christmas, dead of an accidental overdose.  I found out a few days later, but it just now seems to be sinking in. 

She was a sweet girl, with a tiny voice and a shy demeanor.  She had a heavyset  build, so it surprised many of us at the school when she claimed to be a model.   The part that really got to us were the incredibly high heels that she insisted she had to wear.  "I am a MODEL!", she protested, "This is what we WEAR!".  These 5-inchers prevented her from effectively being able to participate in her more physical acting classes.  It annoyed me, and it annoyed her teachers.  To her great credit, however, she went against her own nature and purchased some very fashionable tennis shoes (albeit with a bit of a heel).  When I congratulated her on her new acquisition, she good-naturedly informed me that she wasn't used to flat shoes and that her arches hurt.  I laughed and thanked her for getting them anyway.

If I'm honest, though, this girl flummoxed, frustrated and irritated me.  She made my job difficult, and I don't like it when my students make my already difficult job more so.  To make matters worse, she got stranger as time went on.  By the 6th and 7th week of her eight week course, she seemed more loopy than ever.  At one point I even felt it necessary to threaten her with expulsion, but she pulled herself together enough to finish.  Little did I ever imagine that this girl was just days from death.  She finished her program on December 17th and died on December 26th.

Rather than doing my typical, old-Jenn reaction of tremendous, what-more-should-I-or-could-I-have-done guilt, I have chosen a different path.  I would like to honor this girl by truly learning from her death.  I hope that I will henceforth have more patience with people.  I hope that I will more readily put the high-heeled shoe on the other foot.  I hope that I will remember that there is (almost) always more going on than what we can see on the surface. 

Here's to you, Brooke.  I have no doubt God had a kick-ass pair of Louboutins or Manolo Blahniks waiting for you when you got there.