Happy School Nurse’s Day
No one truly understands what a school nurse does—until they become one. It's a job full of contradictions: a love-hate relationship that pulls at your heart and tests your limits. To outsiders, especially nurses in other settings, it may look like a laid-back gig: handing out Band-Aids, passing out ice packs, and coasting through the day. They couldn’t be more wrong.
School nurses are often the sole healthcare provider on campus—the Lone Ranger of the school. Everyone comes to us: children arriving straight from carpool, clutching their stomachs because mom said, “Try to make it through the day, and if not, go see the nurse.” You send them on their way to class, only to have them return in 5 minutes. We are the jack-of-all-trades, master of none.
Autonomy is both a gift and a burden. While we often enjoy the independence, it can lead to a crushing sense of isolation and helplessness. Emergencies always seem to occur when the health room is full of students. We’re faced with everything from minor complaints to life-threatening emergencies: a student feigning illness, another gasping for air with an asthma attack, one confused from low blood sugar, another one walks in with their arm held at their side with an obvious deformity.
All of this while phones ring, parents wait on hold, and a teacher waits for the field trip first aid bag and medications. One parent is concerned about sunblock and heat indexes; another wants to review the puberty education video. Suddenly, another parent storms in, upset over something their child claims you did.
We confront new challenges daily, often without prior experience. Students now come to school with complex, chronic medical conditions requiring advanced care. We serve as primary care for many, while administrators and others with no medical background try to dictate how things should be done—regardless of the written orders. Just when you feel confident in the care you’re delivering, someone swoops in with criticism, leaving you overwhelmed and on the verge of tears.
Many parents are doing all they can—working multiple jobs, often without the flexibility to leave and pick up a sick child. Some are out of paid leave, facing the threat of job loss if they leave work. As nurses, we constantly weigh whether we’re seeing neglect or simply a family struggling to stay afloat. It's easy to judge—until you've walked in their shoes.
Then there’s the mountain of paperwork and endless meetings. You wonder, “Why am I doing this? I could earn more elsewhere, get paid overtime.” But then you remember the students—the ones who melt your heart or drive you crazy, but just need your comfort. The student you sent to the doctor who was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes, the child who finally got glasses and can now see the board. These moments remind you why you do what you do. The paperwork never ends—you may one day be found buried under IHPs and immunization records—but the impact you make is immeasurable.
Our time with students is short, but powerful. So take a moment to reflect on the good. Let the victories lift you up when the rest weighs you down. School nursing is a roller coaster: slow climbs, wild drops, and chaotic turns. You feel like you can’t hold on—but you do. Because you're a school nurse.
The cycle repeats until the school year ends. Then one day, in the middle of summer, that one student—the one who tested every ounce of your patience—spots you, runs over, and hugs you tightly. “This is MY school nurse,” they proudly tell their parents.
We’re far too busy to play cards. And if we had any, they’d be covered in vomit, pee, poop, blood, tears—and yes, some of those tears would be ours.
Thank you for being a school nurse. Thank you for serving the children and families of South Carolina.
— Dawn MacAdams, MSN, RN, NCSN