Winter Term for the Child of an Alcoholic

By ANONYMOUS

One in ten American children live in a home with at least one parent who abuses a substance. If we expand that to people at Exeter, that’s well over 100 students. That’s a kid in every single one of your classes, a person on every floor of every dorm and a few students on every sports team. I would know, I’m one of them. Just knowing that they’re out there, that there are other people who dread every single vacation, brings me a lot of comfort. I’ve only met one other student who I know has been through the same thing as me. In an English class, I was handed a personal essay for peer review so familiar that I could have written it myself. I didn’t say anything in that moment, but to know that I wasn’t alone lifted a weight off my shoulders.

 Unfortunately, it is difficult to speak or write about such things at Exeter. Almost every adult is a mandated reporter, which is a good thing, at least in theory. But the vagrancies of mandated reporter laws means that I always err on the side of caution when sharing any of my personal experiences. The fear that some overzealous administrator might take it upon themselves to contact Child Protective Services hangs over me. Let me be clear: I am in no way being abused. I have a place to live and food to eat. I am not being hurt physically or sexually. 

However, I am afraid that, if I were to write about the turmoil in my house, I would end up being railroaded by various layers of bureaucracy and administration. I fully understand why those stopgaps exist; it is always a tragedy when a child slips through the cracks. But this sort of fear creates a deep sense of isolation.

 I always shudder when I hear my classmates talk about how happy they are to be going home. Don’t get me wrong: I like to have time off from school. I enjoy not having to do homework. But I will never be happy to be at home. My parent’s alcoholism deepened in earnest when I was in the seventh grade, so it’s becoming difficult for me to remember a time when dinner did not devolve into drunken ranting or stormy silence punctuated by gulps of the alcoholic drink of choice. This is in such sharp contrast to dinner with friends at Exeter that I almost can’t believe that I can be in both of those places in the space of a week. After dinner, I’ll do the dishes and watch Netflix in my room. Give me a night of Biology homework anytime.

 The thing is, this used to be less of an issue. A few weeks at home, punctuated by Christmas, two miserable weeks in the spring and a little bit of time in the summer before I embarked on my latest escapist venture. That was all the time I spent at home. But COVID changed all of that. In March, I struggled with the weight of the realization that I was facing an open-ended period of time at home. And now I’m staring that down again. I’ve been trying to pretend that this term won’t end, but it will. So I try to squeeze every last drop of happiness out of every day. I’m going to need it.  

 So why am I writing this op-ed? Simple. I want my classmates to know that being at home is not “slightly worse” for some of us. In fact, for ten percent of us, it is a lot worse. And we’re not talking about it. But fear of getting myself reported by the administration is not the sole reason that I don’t speak about these issues. Exeter’s culture has an unfortunate tendency towards piling on. Get five hours of sleep? Someone else got three. I dislike this, so I don’t want to seem like I’m trying to one-up the problems of others. I also don’t particularly want my carefully phrased confession to be one-upped by someone else. There’s a big difference between commiserating and oversharing. And not everyone can commiserate on this. 

 The second reason I am writing this is because I believe that the administration has failed to recognize the serious issues that arise from having us at home. There have been many exhortations to reach out to your teachers if you have a problem or a reason why you can’t complete the work. Examples of these issues include having to care for siblings or elderly relatives and a lack of access to wifi. I do not deny that these are issues for a large number of Exonians. I appreciated the Association of Low Income Exonians’ op-ed illuminating many of these challenges. They can be hard to discuss with faculty. In many ways, instances of substance abuse are similar, although they occur across the socio-economic spectrum. 

 I am not convinced that the administration recognizes that I and a hundred other Exonians are already counting the months until we can come back. Right now, with nothing but swirling rumors to guide us, the months ahead are looking bleak for those of us for whom home is not a haven. If you’re reading this and any of it sounds familiar, you’re not alone, I promise. Together, we are tough and strong, and we will make it through, no matter what. But I don’t want to be tough. I don’t want to be strong. I don’t want to make it through high school. I want to thrive. I want to be happy. And that can’t happen at home.