Counselor Poems

I Am Not a Counselor He Said

Today was full of paperwork; not my favorite thing.
Not my least favorite thing either – that is cleaning.
No one despises paperwork and cleaning like I do.
This paperwork was long overdue, I am the counselor.

I know there are federal guidelines that have not been met.
I spoke to the v.p. and said, “you surely did that paperwork.”
He looked at me like I had grown six noses.
“I am not a counselor,” he said.

So I guess he despises paperwork too.

First Counselor Meeting

the head of the counselors resigned the second day of school.
We are congregating for our first meeting without a leader.
They give us a room without chairs or tables.
We were instructed to bring laptops and manuals.
I brought a notebook and a pen, knowing I will write poetry.

We are counselors, we are flexible someone says as they line us up.
No worries. No problems.
I sit down and begin to write.
Someone says “don’t get comfortable, we are moving tables.”
She is new, feels like she is in charge.
I get up and find a corner chair.

The room is coming together slowly.
Gospel music is played.
Goody.
I have been in this district seventeen years.
This is a redundant yearly seminar, but mandated.

The first thing the head says is
“Don’t worry about bringing laptops or manuals.”
She is the one who had emailed us all to bring them.
I grin.
Because I had figured out that already.
Same oh same oh.

Be the Cutting Edge

Don't panic when things turn topsy turvy
Don't freeze when the tables flip over hopelessly
Focus on the One with all the answers
The Wonderful Counselor up above
He will give you the strength to be brave
And the wisdom to be the problem solver
For with His counsel comes victory
And His glory will be revealed
To be the cutting-edge and bring hope to many.

The Counselor

She sat there, arms in her lap, looking at me
With undeniable interest, hearing my hurt,
As I poured out my heavy heart at the loss
Of my dear wife and trying to reason why
She had to die, though I knew it had to be,
For nearly an hour I let my emotions lead
Unable to hold back most profound sorrow
Then, in the last five minutes of my time
She shared her thoughts, sensible and true,
Helping me this awful time to see through.

For years I had listened as a counselor, too,
And I knew there is no greater gift to give
Helping the hurting to have a reason to live
Opening pathways for sincere communicating
And not interrupting, hearing their story
In the most difficult times of their lives.

When I needed it most, it was there for me
A listening ear, a warming smile, great relief.

Written July 23, 2022
Submitted to “Listening Is Loving” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose

I Am Not a Magician

I love it when they carry them in kicking and screaming
Plunk them down and then leave 
me alone with them

I am not a candy bar
I am not a piece of gum
I am not a birthday cake
I am not a magician
Sometimes I get frustrated 

Because they think I can handle it
Even if I can 
is it fair that
I always have to?

My Repeat Visitor

I have not had the repeated visitor in my room for a while.
I thought maybe he was staying in his room. No such luck.
He was in the office when I went in to print something.
“What are you doing?” he asked me. I did not have time to answer.
“She is busy,” my boss told him. I was glad she did this.
He has been brought to my office many times.
He will not stay in a classroom long.
School is not valued in his home.
He skipped the last two years – both online.
One was our school online.
The other one was virtual school which never reported him missing.
He is nine. He has missed two whole years of school.
He is in the second grade, sadly. 
How did he fall through the cracks?
He does not know his alphabet or his numbers.
He wants to play in a sandpile or with Playdough.
I cannot say that I blame him.

Being a School Counselor Is Fun

He is out in the hallways wailing like a wailing wall.
I do not get involved until asked, so I stand quietly.
The teacher comes out and tries to reason with him.
I have never met him. He is a preschooler.
Technically I am licensed to aid with K-12th.
He is outside my jurisdiction.

In eighteen minutes, the principal is called to the room.
She comes to my door with this child.
He comes in and we discuss many things.
He is five, and super bright. His vocabulary is astounding.
He speaks of outlets, inner tubes, carbohydrates.
I am amazed; he is not what I expected.

He stays long enough to draw a picture of a pink snake.
I tell him I fear it and he giggles like a joyful three-year-old.
I ask him not to draw a baboon, telling him it will eat me.
He throws back his head and gives me a donkey-bray-laugh.
We are having a terrific time when they retrieve him.
I am sad to see him go.

Pretending To Be a School Counselor

Who is yelling out in the hallway? The child asked.
She is in the counseling office, where I pretend to counsel.
I am actually teasing children into playing in sand or drawing pictures.
Why don’t you go look? I suggest. Report back to me.
She says, “The boys with the breakfast carts are fighting; they are loud.”
“The principal will soon be out here to take care of it,” I tell her.
I smack my right fist into my left palm.
She begins to smile.
First smile anyone has seen all day.
It is a start.

You Cannot Call Yourself a Counselor

You Cannot Call Yourself a Counselor Until
We were told we could not call ourselves counselors
Until we graduated and had our licenses in hand.
We were threatened, so we abided by this sacred rule.

I called a plumber yesterday. He said “I am your plumbing counselor”
I then saw a car counselor on TV. I flipped the channel.
Found cake decorator counselors, and pest control counselors.

You can barely imagine how irritated this makes me.
It is right up there with news stations publishing misinformation.
It feels like cheating, did they have to take four years of school for it?
More later. My pizza counselor has arrived.

Marriage Counselor Time

She dragged her husband to the marriage counselor wearing gloss.
He simply would not stand up to his intimidating, mean old boss.
She needed her man to grow wiser, grow up, and grow a pair too.
He would have said no, except she scared him, his wife named Sue.

Therapist almost starting laughing when she opened the door that day.
Such a cute sight. His black eye added juice to the story at play.
Not sure what was going to happen, she sat back and listened to her.
Wife did the talking, saying “he thinks and he said”, in charge for sure!

Would you like to speak? She asked the husband, Bill, the groom.
He not only didn’t, he excused himself quickly, leaving the room.
Does he have a voice? Can the man speak? She asked his wife Sue.
He can, she said, but he’s so afraid of the boss, his Mama, Miss Blue.

This added a new component to the problem. Harder to grasp.
Miss Blue gave him the black eye? The therapist asked with a gasp.
And a broken leg, a torn ACL, and other sprains and breaks too.
Mama Blue is a mean operator, said that truthful wife, name of Sue.

The Counselor

Fear

is our worst counselor

for

it strengthens our enemies

while

weakens our resolve!








© Demetrios Trifiatis
     13 March 2020

My Camp Counselor Days

The days as a counselor with the Y.M.C.A.
 We had a Y.M.C.A. blouse and blue shorts  with hush puppies.

My father Dr. Wolf had said that they are interviewing for the position of counselor,
I went to the interview and I was hired.

I had a group of young children to look after,
We went on hikes and sang songs.

Became a senior counselor after a while,
We had a camp out and cookout once a month.

The tent we had to put up ourselves,
Made our own campfire  with sticks and matches.
We cooked food and marsh mellows.

We hiked along the Rouge Hills,
That is very scenic there.

I enjoyed those years,
The days in the fresh air were very healing.

We have such good memories when we were young,
I thank my parents for their excellent guidance.

Author: Gwen von  Erkach Schutz

Eating Lunch With Eleven

He is eleven, big bright blue eyes, pale, unfreckled skin, lighter hair than most.
Not allowed to eat with other eleven-year-olds.
Due to past and semi-present behaviors
So he eats with the counselor, me.


Today during lunch his deepest of the deep voice came out suddenly. 
THESE FRIES MAKE ME MAD.
I burst out laughing.

He is in a silly billy mood, not turned to me, but looking away.
I notice his cheeks are puffing up, in a happy way.

“You are not mad at all,” I tell him.
His smile gets bigger, but he does not reply.

He is relishing in the individual attention I give him.
Even more delighted when I call him out on stuff like this.
Showing him we are both lone wolves and fearless.

You May Pay On Your Way Out

Ever take one of those psychological stress quizzes 
With one of those psychiatrist
Know-it alls?
Me neither.

Ever gonna?
Me neither.

What would be the point?
Oh, my GAWD! You should be depressed.
Stern look.

I’m not.
Then something is wrong with you.
Thanks.

That will be $150. 
You may pay my receptionist on your way out.
That’s it?
Yes, this was your intake session.

I get the receptionist’s phone number on the way out.
We are having coffee so she can tell me more about the
Awful psychiatrist she works for.

I do not feel badly about giving her a
Check that will bounce.

I Wanted To Give Up

I wanted to give up but Dr. Jean would not let me.
I had never met the woman. She called me out of the sky.
I was rude, not wanting to keep going.
She was persistent, 
and wanted to know
what had gone wrong.

She made a two hour drive to find out, and 
paid for my lunch. I was determined not to go back.
I was so hurt, and so ready to give up.

I fell in love with her integrity and her honesty, and
her determination to help me fix things. She did not even
know me! This is the kind of thing I did for others,
not the other way around.

I was shocked into going back, by this fifty-five year
old, unassuming, pleasant, petite, Iowa woman. She
got me through it. It took a year. I would have never
done it without her. I wanted to give up because I 
had been so hurt.

She helped me see past the hurt, and I had to give
myself another chance, thanks to this woman's determination,
optimism, and two hour drive to help someone she had never met.
I will be forever grateful.

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