Teens’ sacrifices take a toll

The war has also taken a toll on one counselor who helps the teens.

MILWAUKEE JOURNAL SENTINEL

KILLEEN, Texas — Barbara Critchfield shook as she practiced writing the name on a scrap of paper.

Should it read, “In Memory of?” Or maybe, “In Honor of?”

She hated that she had to write the name at all, though she knew she’d have to write one someday.

She had written names on blue and silver stars. Those were easier. Those were the names of military moms and dads deployed in support of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. Several hundred already covered the walls at Shoemaker High School, at the doorstep of massive Fort Hood, the largest military installation in the United States.

But not the gold.

The gold carried the names of those killed.

To Critchfield, a seasoned counselor at Shoemaker High, those names were like family. She knew them and was intimately intertwined with the shorter, smaller versions — most of whom affectionately called her “Critch.”

She was their surrogate mom or dad. They had her cell phone number and told her things nobody else knew.

Parents deployed

Unlike their peers across the country who could escape the wars with a flip of a newspaper page or click of a remote, Critchfield’s students were tethered. The parents of more than 80 percent were fighting in the wars.

Critchfield understood clearly what that meant.

She had seen a teenage girl crumple to the school floor and make sorrowful sounds words can’t describe when told her dad wouldn’t be coming home.

She was there the morning 14-year-old Rohan Osbourne came to school and told his teacher he thought he was going to have a bad day. When the teacher jokingly asked, “Why? Did the dog eat your homework?” he explained he had learned that morning that his mom had been killed over the weekend.

“These kids didn’t enlist,” Critchfield said, “but they are sacrificing in ways you cannot even imagine.”

A salt-of-the-earth woman in her 50s, Critchfield speaks bluntly about the wars’ toll on the more than 2,000 teens at Shoemaker High.

“I call them kids, but they’re not kids,” she said. “They have dealt with more than most adults will ever deal with in a lifetime.”

What some do

Some are living alone, paying the family bills, at age 17. Others are forced to relocate to a new school or move in with a friend or relative. Those with a parent at home face added responsibilities, such as caring for their younger siblings, cooking and cleaning.

Mix that with raging hormones and other typical challenges of teen years such as dating, fitting in with friends, schoolwork, sports and other extracurricular activities.

Then throw in the threat every day that their mom or dad might get blown up.

Adolescents experience a range of responses when a parent goes to war, experts say. They can become angry and aloof. Some lose interest in school and in normal daily activities. Some become socially isolated. One study, led by Virginia Tech University researchers in 2005, concluded the stress of a parent’s deployment might “overtax the adolescents’ limited coping resources beyond their capacity.”

Eugene Daniels rejected a football scholarship to West Point this fall to avoid a military life for his future family.

“I couldn’t do it because I see what it does to your kids,” said Daniels, who graduated from Shoemaker in May.

For Daniels, that was not among his sacrifices. A dazzling 6-foot-3, 250-pound defensive end, he had six other full-ride scholarships to consider, ultimately opting for Colorado State.

Daniels talks excitedly about how he’s made it through, how he’s survived as the oldest son of a lieutenant colonel in a wartime army. He’s 18 now, officially a man, though he’s played the role for several years.

His dad deployed to Afghanistan in 2003 during his freshman year, then went to Iraq in 2004 and Kuwait in 2006.

Parting words

Each time before he left, Anthony Daniels told his son: “Do what I would do. You’re the man of the house now.”

Daniels figured much of what that meant was “take some of the load off my mom.”

To him that meant taking care of his two little sisters. He fixed the younger sister’s hair, putting in bows and ribbons. He drove them to dance lessons and theater rehearsals, made meals and tried to give emotional support.

When his 5-year-old sister cried for days after their dad left for Iraq, he used his allowance to buy her toys.

When the older sister came down with a fever at school — which happened more than once — he left his classes to take her to the doctor. When she was new to high school, he skipped lunch with friends to eat with her.

“I want them to know even though Dad’s not here, I got their back,” he said.

Daniels looks out for his mom in a similar fashion. She suffers from rheumatoid arthritis and during most of the deployments was working full time as a pathologist’s assistant.

Daniels talks more like a proud father than a son when he mentions his mom’s undergraduate degree from Syracuse University and her desire to go back to school for a PhD.

“She’s definitely going to go back. I’m going to make sure of that,” he said.

Aside from caring for his mom and sisters, he played football — before and after school — and earned grades that put him in the National Honor Society.

Despite his easy laugh and superherolike attitude, his dad’s deployments have left emotional bruises, some still tender.

“It’s never been easy,” he said. “It’s like you’re growing up without a dad, but you’re not.”

Affecting counselor

Critchfield didn’t want to admit it, but the war was taking a toll on her, too. The school nurse told her she likely had an ulcer. Her blood pressure had edged up, she was getting excruciating headaches and she was having trouble sleeping.

“The stress level was just unreal,” she said.

Last year, all four of the other counselors at Shoemaker quit. Buckled under the stress, she said.

Critchfield held on. Kids needed her.

But this summer, after more than six years as the head counselor, Critchfield decided she could not write one more name on a gold star. She could not help any more children with funeral arrangements.

But as a wife and mother of two of her own children, she decided she had to put her health and family first. She’s moving to a school with younger students and fewer military families.

“It’s like being defeated,” she said. “But at some point I have to walk away or it’s going to make me crazy.”