Jenny Kim’s suicide sent crippling reverberations across the Amherst campus. Especially in a small community like ours, those who did not even know her wondered if there was anything they could have done to avoid such a tragedy. Questions like “Why did she do it?” or “Didn’t anyone know?” were thrown around; consequently, her friends struggled with not only a great loss, but unbearable guilt and shame as well. My initial reaction to Jenny’s suicide was blank. I previously conceived of death as a remote idea that existed in Mahler’s symphonies, and the sudden reality of it puzzled and devastated me. Nothing seemed real, and academic and personal obligations became a nuisance. Upon a dean’s recommendation, I contacted the Amherst College Counseling Center in the hope of finding tangibility in my life. Despite the promises made in President Tony Marx’s e-mail, the center was not an available resource I could utilize. Emergency sessions that day were only offered until 2 p.m., barely an hour after President Marx’s e-mail was sent out notifying the community of the tragedy.

Seeing other students grieving at the memorial service alleviated some of my anxiety, but speaking with Jenny’s parents at the service left me vulnerable and scared. Jenny’s death and her family’s reaction triggered a series of hypothetical scenarios: how my death could devastate my friends and family, how my mother could get into a fatal accident. An overwhelming sense of loneliness filled my thoughts. That night, I actively sought a counselor at the dorm meeting in Cohan where counselors were supposedly accessible to students. When I did find a counselor, however, I was refused even a five-minute conversation and was instead promised an appointment at 11 a.m. the next day. I was therefore unaware that normal reactions to a traumatic experience like suicide range from sleep disturbances to depression and panic attacks. Had I been warned even briefly of such reactions, I would not have spent the first night alone: restless, anxious, hallucinating, calling anyone who would pick up their phone. Having most of my friends away from campus for Interterm only heightened my sense of alienation.

Contrary to my hopes, the visit to the counseling center the next morning only aggravated my mental instability. Firstly, the counselor with whom I spoke in Cohan was more than 10 minutes late, on the day after the discovery of Jenny’s body. Due to her tardiness, the regular 45 minute session was cut to a half-hour. The lost time was not made up, despite the fact that there were no other students waiting. What bothered me even more was her excuse for being late: she needed to buy dog food. It is unethical that a counselor would rather be late to accommodate her pet’s dietary needs than be at work at the promised time to help students in dire need. On top of that, the counselor was completely unprepared. She had no recollection of the fact that, at the end of first semester, I had discussed an unsuccessful suicide attempt by Jenny with her, a conversation which was recorded in my file. Because she hadn’t reviewed my file, when I tried to bring this up, I had to narrate and relive everything leading up to Jenny’s death, rather than focusing on improving my mental state. It is understandable if a counselor forgets a small detail or two of a student’s life, but how a trained psychologist could forget a report of a suicide attempt is beyond comprehension.

Jenny was referred to the counseling center after her first suicide attempt. It is difficult to assess whether Jenny experienced similar difficulties with her counselor, but it is clear that the counseling center provided inadequate assistance for Jenny. Furthermore, the counseling center’s failure to contact her family when there had been an attempted suicide was a violation of not only the counseling center’s policy but also a violation of federal law. Many psychologists agree that family members are often in the best position to help overcome attempted suicide. The center not only failed morally and professionally, but legally as well.

The façade of composure is a much valued attribute in American society and especially in a close-knit community like Amherst College. Students’ reluctance to discuss their misgivings about the counseling center compounds the difficulty of addressing this issue. I understand from consulting with other students that my experience is far from an isolated incident, and I hope reporting these un-met responsibilities will initiate further discussions that will create a more conducive and supportive environment for healing and growth.