SAINTS PERSPECTIVE, SCCC President Brad Bennett
It’s not unusual for people to feel a little down when winter gets as cold as it has been this year. Sometimes this feeling is called the Winter Blues, or more scientifically, Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). Even the most cheerful people encountered low spirits since events around the nation in January. There were fires in Los Angeles. There was terrible weather coast to coast, and plenty of political uncertainty. Then came the crash of American Airlines flight 5342.
When the bad news touches close to home, we all find it hard to smile and keep going.
That has definitely been the feeling on the Seward County Community College campus over the past week.
One of our alumni — sister of a current employee and daughter of a longtime, much-loved instructor and executive team member — died in that plane crash. Lindsey (Carter) Fields was also a much-loved biology instructor at our peer institution, Butler Community College. The loss has left hundreds of us speechless. Any bad news is sobering, any loss of life is something to grieve. This, however, feels personal.
Of course, I know our perspective at SCCC cannot come close to how the family members feel. And all us of know that we can do very little to help. Our Moment of Silence that took place Feb. 3, was the least we could do — meditate, pray, come together to acknowledge a life lost — and even so, it did not change the reality.
I have thought about the Carter and Fields families all week. I know I am not the only one. Somehow, the awareness that our campus has shifted, quietly, into a state of mourning, feels comforting. When I have experienced personal loss of a parent or friend, one of the strangest things about it is seeing how the rest of the world just goes on about its business. For a person who is flooded with grief, it does not feel OK to see people laughing in the hallway or rushing to meet deadlines, or even raking leaves.
Another challenge we face when we experience loss is the silence. Other people don’t know what to say. At times, it feels a little bit like the person you loved has been erased: nobody wants to say their name out loud. This is another thing that does not feel OK.
At our campus Moment of Silence and in emails to faculty and staff, I have told my fellow Saints that “it’s OK to not be OK.” In this, I mean that grief is a real force to reckon with. We don’t all grieve the same way. Some of us can’t get out of bed. Some of us bury our emotions in work. Some of us need to talk it out. Some of us want to be left in peace. There isn’t one right way to sort through the feelings or the problem of how to keep living when someone we love dies.
This is where community matters. For most of our Saints family, tragedy is something we observe. For a few, tragedy is the thing that turns your world upside down. All of us need each other, whether it is sympathy cards and casseroles or just a little extra grace when the daily routines slip. Time makes a difference, but there is not one universal pace to the way people heal.
Here on campus, I encourage each person to be aware of these various factors, and to take good care of ourselves and each other. Looking outward, I encourage our campus community to do the little things that make a difference.
This might mean saying an extra prayer for families in crisis, or making a donation to the scholarship fund set up in memory of Lindsey (Carter) Fields. Friends of Lindsey have set up a GoFundMe portal to gather money for a student scholarship in her memory. Here’s the link:
As we turn the calendar page, some things feel renewed, while others continue to ache. Please remember as you go through your day, the people around you matter. Your kindness matters. We are all here to look out for one another.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR — Brad Bennett is President of Seward County Community College. He doesn’t have any jokes this week, just a wish that we do our best for each other, every day. You can reach him at
