Challenge Day: Tears, heart openings banish isolation

At first glance, most Healdsburg teens may look like they lead charmed and protected lives -- cossetted and embraced in a safe, beautiful town, surrounded with loving families and friends.

But, as I and almost 200 other participants in last week's Challenge Day event discovered, almost no one in Healdsburg -- adults or teens -- really lives the "Leave it to Beaver" lifestyle.

We found that scores of kids and adults feel isolated, sad or cut off because of different racial or ethnic backgrounds, because their parents are divorced or have died, or because they struggle with addiction or substance abuse, body image issues or hurt feelings from perceived snubs by friends.

"My concern is that our community doesn't realize that our kids are going through the same things we went through," said Challenge Day organizer Gisela Babb.

"We're blessed to live here, but that doesn't mean we don't have kids who are hurting," Babb added. "Our kids still need to get that there are adults who are there for them."

Using music, dancing, storytelling and games, group leaders Schan Baker and Jyoti Subramanian took everyone in hand to show them how they are surrounded by love and support.

"Healdsburg is great," Baker said later. "There's a lot of heart here, a lot of connection, ethnic diversity, people stepping out of their comfort zones."

Baker told the adults that teens "don't care how much you know, until they know how much you care."

Challenge Day is part of a national nonprofit organization, www.challegeday.org, based in Concord. Similar programs are held at schools throughout the nation.

In last week's two-day event, donated the space for 150 10th graders to attend.

"Be the Change," from the Mahatma Gandhi quote, "Be the change you want to see in the world," is the vision that guides the program.

About 35 adults, including me, volunteered to be facilitators for one or two full days. As facilitators, we were assigned small groups of four or five students to meet with and stay close to during the day.

Our facilitator group also included four Healdsburg High teachers, two school counselors and Principal Chris Vanden Heuvel.

Although it's not billed as solely an "anti-bullying" program, a component of Challenge Day addresses both the kids who are bullied and the ones who are bullies. During the day, through the games and exercises, both the bullies and those who are bullied get to strip off the walls between them and recognize the humanity in each other.

"I thought this was a pretty potent experience," said first-time facilitator Elliott Doss, a former Healdsburg youth soccer coach and parent of several Healdsburg High School teens. "Any time these kids get to love on each other, it's a good thing."

Names of the students, their personal stories and photos were prohibited from my reporting for confidentiality reasons. However, I can say that the most universal comment I heard from the kids at the end of the day was how surprised they were to see that their friends and fellow students had the same problems and issues that they did.

"It's a phenomenal opportunity for kids to open up and actually make changes," said Healdsburg High School counselor Ever Flores, a facilitator at Thursday's Challenge Day.

Healdsburg City Councilman Steve Babb, also a facilitator at last week's event, said he has talked with kids who did Challenge Day as freshmen and who still feel its effects several years later.

"I've seen kids who had fights with each other apologize during Challenge Day," Babb said. "It's pretty neat to see the change."

Perhaps the most potent "game" at Challenge Day comes near the end. It's called "Cross the Line." Both kids and adults participate.

Everyone stands at one end of the room, behind a thin blue line drawn on the floor. Then, in turn, people cross the line to the other side of the room if they are called out by issue or life experience.

"Cross the line if you have ever had thoughts of suicide or have had a family member or friend commit suicide," Subramanian calls out. A group of kids and adults walks to the other side and faces those who are left.

Tears are flowing on both sides; some people are giving or receiving hugs. Others hold out their closed palms with thumbs and two fingers extended to those on the other side -- the universal sign language for love.

"OK, go back to the other side," Subramanian says. Everyone returns to the area behind the line.

"Now, for the guys here," she says. "Cross the line if you have ever been told to 'be a man' or 'suck it up' or 'don't be a girl.'"

Almost all the teen boys and the adult men cross the line and walk to the other side. As women and teen girls, we stand behind, looking at the men with more compassion than we might have felt before.

Then, we women have our turn.

"Cross the line if you have ever felt put down for being female, or have had your body parts criticized or judged, or felt less than just because of being a woman," Subramanian says.

Almost all the women, including me, cross the line. The men stand, looking at us. I wonder if the teen boys will grow up with more respect for women and with less need for female-bashing than their older male predecessors.

We return to our places behind the line on the other side of the room.

"Now, cross the line if one or both of your parents have died," Subramanian says.  With some hesitation, I move across, recalling my father's death in January 2006. An upwelling of grief stirs in my gut. A fellow adult facilitor comes close and puts her arms around me.

When I return to my group of four students, most of us have tears in our eyes. One teen boy is sobbing. We tell our stories. Once strangers, we are now a family -- at least for the day.

"Thanks," I tell the kids as we do a group hug. "Thanks for being in my group."

Finally, at day's end, there is laughter and dancing.

"This is another way for everyone to make connections," said HHS Counselor Ilene Frommer. "The whole school experience changes as a result."