The girl who died in my class

OK, she didn't really die, but I thought she was dead.

Several years ago, I had a young lady who came into my class and immediately put her head down. Now, she was not the type of girl who was really excited about her academics, so I didn't think anything was unusual. She was the type of student that showed up a couple a days a week and didn't do anything while she was in class. Most of the time she was pleasant and rarely caused disruptions.

Anyway, I might have given her a little nudge, but she didn't ever wake up to listen to my great teaching and I didn't think much of it.

At the end of class, I was up front talking to a student when someone came up and said, "Coach Douthit, Jane (not her real name) didn't wake up when the bell rang." This wasn't the first time that had happened (and it won't be the last) so I walked over to gently nudge Jane and get her up.

After the first nudge, she didn't move. I patted her on the back--Nothing. I started to shake her gently--Not a move. When I really started to rattle her around--She moved like a rag doll.

Now let me tell you what was going through my head. First, there was no panic (shockingly). I was totally calm and completely in control. But there were a stream of thoughts that flew through my brain.

1. Huh, she's dead. How am I going to explain that a girl died in my class and I didn't realize it.
2. I really should have taken the CPR class that Vanderbilt required of me. (I had a friend of mine who taught a CPR class and sent me a card)
3. I wonder what I am going to do now that my teaching career is over.

I am serious when I say that I was completely calm. Absolutely no anxiety at all. I had just discovered a dead girl and it didn't seem to bother me.

After looking around the class and seeing my living students start to freak out, I decided it would be best for me to look like I knew what I was doing. So I called the SRO and told him I had an unconscious girl in the class. And, although I didn't know how to find a pulse, it seemed reasonable to at least act like it so the students would thing I was in control.

I walked over to Jane, picked up her arm and started to try and find her pulse when, all of a sudden, she sat up and yelled in a slurred voice "I'M ALRIGHT. IT'S OK. I'M ALRIGHT". Now, I almost peed my pants she startled me so much, but I was able to say "Honey, you're not alright. We've got Officer Fleming coming down right now". She was insistent that she was OK, but I held her in the class because, unbeknownst to her, as she was sleeping, she had drooled up her face and her makeup was smeared. She looked a mess.

It turned out that she had a drug overdose. I never saw her again after that.

Sorry for the weak ending, but I have found that most of my life has great stories that end in a very normal way.