My First Student Protest Walkout

Confidentiality Note: Details in this reflection have been generalized and modified to protect student privacy while preserving the professional learning experience.

Well, I can officially say that none of my graduate programs prepared me for student-led mass walkouts.

Three years into my role, I found myself sitting in a leadership meeting discussing a planned student protest walkout. As information was shared, the guidance from our district was clear: all staff were to remain neutral. We could not stop students from leaving, but we also could not encourage them. We weren’t even allowed to hold a staff meeting or send an informational email acknowledging what was about to happen. We were expected to carry on as if it were a completely normal school day.

Adding to the tension, our State Education Department released a statement warning that districts perceived as supporting student protests could risk losing funding. So here we were, fully aware that a large-scale student demonstration was imminent, yet unable to openly discuss it, plan for it publicly, or process it with students.

As the protest day approached, student anxiety began to rise. Some students reported hearing threats toward those planning to walk out and toward those choosing to stay. They came to counseling stressed, fearful, and looking for reassurance. And again, our responses were limited. We could address safety concerns only to the extent of confirming that threats were investigated and handled. We could not discuss the protest itself.

Protest day arrived.

All counselors joined the rest of the leadership team in walking the hallways, maintaining visibility. Of course, we knew exactly when the walkout was scheduled. We even knew the color of the shirts students were encouraged to wear. But remember, we could not intervene. We could only observe and ensure safety.

Then a teacher approached me and said three students had been seen leaving the building. She gave me the first name of one of them.

My heart dropped.

If this was the student I thought it was, they had an established safety support plan in place. Every alarm in my body went off. I couldn’t go outside to visually confirm. Instead, I had to move quickly, checking cameras while also verifying the class the student should have been in.

When the footage confirmed it, my worst concern came to life.

I immediately went to my administration to discuss options. I shared that if this were any other day, I would call the parent to notify them that their child had left the building and that we had confirmed it via cameras. My administration agreed. I was able to make the call, though, truthfully, I probably would have made it regardless and dealt with any consequences later.

Student safety outweighs discomfort every time.

Thankfully, my admin team is deeply student-centered and prioritizes mental health, so their guidance aligned with my instincts. But the situation left me with lingering questions.

Where is the training for this?

How are school counselors supposed to navigate politically charged, student-led demonstrations while also managing mental health crises, safety planning, and parent communication?

How do we support students when we are restricted from even discussing the very event causing their anxiety?

This protest happened the day before a school break. So now, instead of processing in real time, we wait—wait to see what students say when they return, what staff are feeling, what emotions linger after the silence we were required to keep.

Experiences like this highlight a major gap in counselor preparation and district leadership.

To be clear, I do not believe this gap exists because districts are intentionally excluding school counselors from the conversation. I believe it is, in many ways, a byproduct of the lingering “guidance counselor” mindset. School counselor roles have evolved significantly. We are no longer operating solely in scheduling and academic advisement silos.

With that evolution, district training, communication structures, and overall role comprehension must evolve as well.

School counselors are a vital piece of any student-centered conversation. We should be included in proactive discussions and planning—not positioned in a constant state of reaction once situations are already unfolding. When counselors are brought in early, we can help anticipate student needs, identify mental health risks, develop communication plans, and create safer support structures before crises emerge.

Counselors as a whole were not warned this was coming, even though it was happening metroplex-wide. No official guidance. No framework. No supervision supports. Yet school counselors are leaders on campus. We are crisis responders, mental health providers, and student advocates. We cannot lead effectively if we are left out of planning and communication.

Graduate programs cannot prepare us for everything, nor should they be expected to. But districts and systems must provide ongoing supervision, training, and crisis guidance for emerging, real-world events like mass protests.

Because they will keep happening. Without structured support, the burden falls on counselors to figure it out in real time, often alone.

Burnout doesn’t come only from heavy caseloads. It stems from being asked to manage complex situations without adequate guidance or systemic support.

If we want the best counselors for our students, we must build stronger support systems for counselors.

Questions for my readers:

• How do you interpret “staff neutrality” while still upholding student safety and mental health responsibilities?

• Where do you see tension between district directives and ASCA/ACA ethical standards?

• How do you personally define your role during student demonstrations?