"How are you today, Phil?"
"Exhausted . . ."
"What's going on, Susan?"
"I'm soooooo stressed!"
"Hey, Jim, how was your weekend?"
"Too good. . . . I'm still hung over."
"Casey, what's up?"
"I can't get rid of this . . . sniff . . . stupid cold."
Sleep deprivation. Stress. Binge drinking. Common colds. These are the health problems Stanford students talk about.
Depression. Anxiety. Loneliness. Eating disorders. Sexually transmitted diseases and sexual assault. Drug abuse and alcoholism. These are the health problems Stanford students don't talk about.
As a peer health educator, I've had to address both types of problems. While we students are predominantly a "healthy" bunch, our level of wellness is not as high as it could or should be, and many students find themselves in situations that, while not life-threatening, are cause for concern. Stanford's Peer Health Education program began in 1993, the idea of two students. Educational research backed up their notion that students would be more receptive to health messages from peers -- and Cowell Student Health was short-staffed. At first there were eight volunteers. Just six years later, I was one of 25 peer health educators in 22 residences, and this spring we received a Dean's Award for Outstanding Achievement.
I spent my sophomore year as the peer health educator for Junipero, an all-frosh dorm in Wilbur. As a freshman, I'd been an active member of the Bridge Peer Counseling Center and the Sexual Health Peer Counseling Center. I had even taken a course for peer health educators. Before I started in the dorm, I had an experienced "buddy" who showed me the ropes. But nothing really prepared me for what lay ahead in Junipero.
The very first week, a student approached me because she'd had unprotected oral sex and was worried she might be infected with HIV. Although her encounter actually put her at very low risk, I encouraged her to get tested, and we talked about the reasons she had engaged in unprotected sex. I was amazed that she was willing to be so honest and open with me so quickly. But it frightened me to think that if she had tested positive, I would already have missed my chance to help her.
During winter quarter, telltale signs of a bulimic resident began to appear in the men's bathroom. We didn't want to overplay the problem, for fear it would look like we were starting a witch-hunt. I consulted with the Cowell staff and the residence dean, and we came up with a plan. I taped a small index card near the toilet asking the person to clean up after himself and suggesting that he seek help. The problem continued, so we held a community meeting. While we never discovered the identity of the resident, I felt the meeting was a great success. Several students talked about their experiences with eating disorders, and the overall feeling was one of caring concern and support. And the bathroom problem pretty much disappeared.
There were other frustrations. Some students never found a niche in the dorm and remained isolated despite all the residence staff's efforts. And no matter what I tried, some people still drank too much at parties. I came to realize that no amount of educational outreach was going to make everyone smarten up and figure out that they would feel healthier and do better in school if they got more than four hours of sleep a night.
But for the most part, my job was rewarding, even inspiring. I loved working closely with people and being part of the residence staff team. Most of all, there was the thrill of feeling that I was contributing to the well-being of 90 freshmen. I learned a lot about the struggles, both obvious and hidden, that students face.
I also learned that it wasn't easy to balance my own life as I tried to find time to exercise, relax, be with friends and participate in the extracurricular activities that I love, while also dedicating myself to being a student and a peer health educator. No more all-nighters for me this year.
Melora Krebs-Carter is a senior majoring in human biology from New Haven, Conn.
