Eric Tadsen
East High’s Sara Lennertz says students tell her they feel out of practice socially and academically.
As the school day is drawing to a close, a student walks into Lauren Shimanovsky Schwartz’s windowless office at Memorial High School without an appointment. The school social worker is supposed to be in a team meeting with other support staff, and is running late. A new mom, she was also hoping to take a few minutes to use her breast pump. The student is not visibly distressed, crying or angry, but she wants to talk.
“Is this something we need to talk about right now?” Shimanovsky Schwartz asks the student. (To protect the confidentiality of students, the anecdotes of student interactions have been related to this reporter.) “Or is this something that we can loop back to tomorrow?”
The student is not a part of Shimanovsky Schwartz’s assigned caseload, falling instead under another staff member’s jurisdiction; these assignments are made to ensure social workers and other support staff are not spread thinner than they already are.
The girl takes a moment and then groans a bit, unsure about whether it can wait. Shimanovsky Schwartz interprets this uncertainty to mean the conversation is urgent.
The fluorescent overhead lights are switched off inside the social worker’s office. Instead, warm lamps placed throughout the space reveal inspirational posters and student artwork pasted to both the permanent walls and the temporary room dividers drilled into the floor.
Shimanovsky Schwartz’s office is only as confidential as the walls allow. She can hear the staff and students in the neighboring room and they can hear her.
“We’re gonna attend to what’s absolutely essential today, and then we’re going to figure out what we can come back to tomorrow,” Shimanovsky Schwartz tells the student.
Meanwhile, across town at East High School, social worker Sara Lennertz is assisting a student who skipped most of school during the 2021-22 academic year and has had three recent hospital stays for acute safety concerns.
Her office overhead lights are off as well in favor of floor lamps; a diffuser mists a calming tea tree scent. Students regularly tell Lennertz her office doesn’t feel like East High — that it has a “relaxed vibe.” Lennertz begins a suicide risk assessment.
“It doesn’t have to stay like this,” Lennertz tells the student as she begins. “Even if you don’t think things are going to get better, I believe they will.”
According to an issue brief from the Wisconsin Office of Children’s Mental Health, “measures of youth mental wellness have been on the decline for years, long before the pandemic. The COVID-19 pandemic only exacerbated mental health challenges — in Wisconsin and across the nation.”
The most recent youth risk behavior survey, administered to Wisconsin public school students on a voluntary basis in fall 2021, found that more than half of all students surveyed reported experiencing “significant problems with anxiety,” and more than one-third reported feeling sad or hopeless almost every day for more than two weeks in a row — this was the highest rate since the youth survey was first administered in 1993. Also, 18% of all students considered attempting suicide in the past 12 months, the highest rate since 2003.
According to the report, “Females, students who are LGB, students of color, students receiving special education services, students with health conditions, and students facing food insecurity all reported experiencing greater challenges while having fewer supports.”
These challenges have not gone unnoticed. In March 2022, the Madison school district created an ad hoc committee to address student disengagement and to promote wellness. A year later the Safety and Student Wellness Ad Hoc Committee issued several recommendations, including educating teachers on what mental health supports are available to students; having teachers maintain contact with parents on how best to support students; and placing at least one therapist at each of the district’s four high schools.
Gov. Tony Evers has also declared 2023 “the year of mental health” in his State of the State Address and is seeking to spend more than $500 million on mental health and behavioral services. That includes his call to make the “Get Kids Ahead” initiative a permanent program through the investment of $270 million.
“Kids in crisis are often distracted or disengaged in class, might not be able to finish their homework, and won’t be able to focus on their studies at home or at school,” Evers said at his Jan. 24 address at the state Capitol. “Improving student mental health can also improve student learning outcomes and school attendance.”
If approved by the state Legislature, a permanent “Get Kids Ahead” program would expand school mental health services in Wisconsin schools and increase the number of student support staff.
“We cannot look back two years from now as we prepare the next budget and wonder whether we should’ve done more and sooner to take good care of our mental health,” said Evers. “Let’s take this seriously, and let’s start today.”
‘There aren’t enough of us’
In the Madison school district, student services staff — including school psychologists, counselors and social workers — provide different mental health, behavioral and academic supports. They are trained mental health professionals who refer students to resources and community services and also provide short-term counseling.
Delayed by the pandemic, many students at Memorial High act like sixth and seventh graders — not high schoolers — Shimanovsky Schwartz says. They bond over teasing their peers and making jokes at the expense of their classmates while educators struggle to get through lesson plans as they attempt to re-engage distracted students.
“It is really challenging because this system isn’t designed to meet those kinds of developmental needs,” Shimanovsky Schwartz says. “It’s designed to try to meet the developmental needs of the average 14-year-old.”
At East High, students tell Lennertz they feel out of practice, socially and academically. During the 2021-22 school year, Lennertz says she performed more suicide risk assessments than in previous years.
As the need for mental health services has increased, staffing has not kept up. This ultimately prevents schools from providing needed interventions, both Shimanovsky Schwartz and Lennertz say. According to the state’s Office of Children’s Mental Health, the number of students per school social worker in K-12 grades is seven times the recommended standard in Wisconsin.
The Madison school district has half as many social workers as is recommended by the National Association of Social Workers. According to data in the 2022-23 school district budget, the student-to-social worker ratio is 592:1 instead of the recommended 250:1. And if you look solely at high schools, the ratio gets even worse: According to a calculation by Lennertz and a co-worker, the actual ratio is 616:1 at East High and 931:1 at Memorial.
Eric Tadsen
‘Students deserve to have all of their needs met,’ says Lauren Shimanovsky Schwartz of Memorial.
“I believe wholeheartedly that all of the students in this building deserve to have all of their needs met,” Shimanovsky Schwartz says. “[But] it’s not possible. It’s not possible at this capacity. I don’t know that it’s possible in our current educational model.”
The school district, according to its 2022-23 budget, is utilizing federal funding to invest in increased student support staff and mental health services. The district also added 9.4 social workers to schools this year through the “repurposing” of central office staff as social workers within the schools. But social workers are still strained, Shimanovsky Schwartz says: “There aren’t enough of us.”
Resources outside of school are also scarce. It’s been nearly impossible to meet the needs of students at East High this year because of how “strapped” community resources are, Lennertz says, adding that she had never seen such long wait times for support. In Madison, mental health treatment centers and resources have been overwhelmed since the onset of the coronavirus pandemic.
“It’s families and students who are in crisis for months as they wait for mental health treatment,” Lennertz says. “At school, we’re doing our best to provide the support in the meantime.”
The effects of the pandemic linger as need persists. Days for social workers are filled with attendance checks, follow-ups on truancy cases, calls with parents, and meetings to work on individualized education plans for students with disabilities. Given the strains of staffing and increased need, Shimanovsky Schwartz says she tells herself that there is always going to be something for her to pick up the next day.
“It’s always juggling those things and a constant knowing that I can never get to everything in a day,” Lennertz adds. “Who are the kids that I really need to see today and what might I have to let go for that?”
The Madison Metropolitan School District and some other Wisconsin schools have sought to address increased need with such online services as CareSolace, which helps find providers and services appropriate to specific student needs.
In an effort to contribute to addressing system-level issues in Wisconsin public schools, Lennertz serves as the legislative chair of the Wisconsin School Social Workers Association. The group advocates for better staffing ratios at the state and district level.
“I love working with families, and I love that I can provide the referrals to resources,” adds Lennertz. “But what if we just met the needs so it didn’t have to be provided in the way we’re trying to piecemeal things together now?”
Shimanovsky Schwartz, meanwhile, advocates for programs in school that support student mental health, including community building, restorative justice and anti-racism initiatives.
“I can be one small piece of trying to move toward a more equitable and just school system for our kids,” says Shimanovsky Schwartz.
The needs of students cannot be addressed by any single person, she adds, underscoring that “addressing the needs of kids effectively in large systems requires efficient and effective systems that cast a wide net.”
‘There is no way to get everything done’
Back in Shimanovsky Schwartz’s office, the social worker begins her short-term crisis evaluation of the Memorial High student who showed up at her door at the end of the school day. She starts by observing the student’s body language — her facial expressions, movements, eye contact, voice and posture. Despite her other obligations — the scheduled meeting, the need to pump her milk — she centers herself.
“Are you feeling safe right now?” she asks.
“Not really,” responds the girl.
Nothing else matters now — just the safety of the student sitting in front of her.
“Tell me what happened today that made this issue become present for you,” she asks. “What happened? How significant is the distress?”
The student tells Shimanovsky Schwartz about an incident with another student.
“Do you have classes together?” Shimanovsky Schwartz asks, probing for more details about the situation. “When do you see each other?”
The social worker thinks to herself, “Is there something going on with this other student that could harm this student? What is the urgency? What is the risk to the student when they leave? What is the actual risk as it relates to another student?”
After she wraps up her risk assessment, she sends the student on her way. Both feel good about the plan they established under the time crunch. Because Shimanovsky Schwartz is not the student’s assigned social worker, the student will meet with a colleague the next day and move on from there.
While Shimanovsky Schwartz stepped in to provide some urgent care, she is critical of herself. She had to re-ask questions — more than once — and says the student could tell her mind was elsewhere.
“It doesn’t feel good when you know that you can’t give the student in front of you the time and attention and energy they need and deserve because of the sheer volume on your plate,” Shimanovsky Schwartz says.
“I wear so many hats,” she adds, “and what that means in this kind of work is that somebody isn’t getting their needs as well met as they deserve.”
As East High social worker Lennertz continues her suicide risk assessment of the young boy in her office, questions swirl in her head. “Is this a student that needs to go to the hospital right now? For their safety? Is this a student that if they have a mental health provider, we need to try to get them seen as soon as possible? Is this a student who’s never had any support? What other things need to happen after this?”
She takes notes of comments that allude to feelings of self-harm, worthlessness and depression. After Lennertz’s assessment is complete, the next step is to call the students’ parents and explain how she got involved.
Lennertz gathers her thoughts, preparing to present her recommendations to the student’s parents. As a mother of two, Lennertz draws on her own experience as a parent in these moments. She validates the parents of the boy. She knows how often parents feel inadequate when their children are experiencing troubles. She presents her findings and recommendations.
“Having a conversation with a parent that their child is suicidal is always going to evoke panic and worry,” Lennertz says. “Not only do we have students in crisis, but parents are in a crisis.”
Lennertz peppers the parents with questions about how the student can be supported within the four walls of East High, “What is the next step? What do we need to do this week for support? What does supervising and supporting your child look like for this week?”
The family — a two-parent, middle class and white household — wants to find treatment options for their son. They have private insurance, something of a luxury among families at East High, where 55% of students are considered “economically disadvantaged,” according to a state report.
But the family would soon learn that their private insurance would not cover the treatment they were looking for.
“We honestly tried everything that I could think of,” Lennertz says. “I was calling other social workers, other providers in the community.”
Lennertz was disheartened by the entire process, and the fact that insurance dictated what treatment looked like for one of her students.
“All of these things are outside of my control,” she says.
‘They bring light to my day’
Shimanovsky Schwartz’s student at Memorial met with her assigned social worker — a substitute due to a full-time staffer’s ongoing medical leave — the following day. They worked on creating a long-term plan to ensure the student felt safe and secure at school. Lennertz’s student no longer attends East High. But he is doing better and attending school elsewhere, she says.
For school social workers like Shimanovsky Schwartz and Lennertz, cases without picture perfect resolutions are typical of their days. The system, its strained resources and systemic barriers, regularly butts head with their attempts to provide support. But they provide a critical role — in most cases, school social workers are the first contact in the long road ahead for students seeking mental health support and treatment.
And that is what keeps them going, despite the challenges.
“The students are always it,” Lennertz says. “They bring light to my day.”
[Editor's note: This article was corrected to note the Gov. Evers' budget includes $500 million for mental health services, not $500,000.]
