Kyle Evaldez and Marcella Chibbaro are in the midst of a serious workplace debate. A grave accusation-issued moments before-still hangs in the air, awaiting a reply.

“I can’t watch My Super Sweet Sixteen because you taped over it,” Marcella insists. She fixes Kyle with an unforgiving stare.

“I TiVo-ed Heroes,” he cries over her laughter. “I’m sorry!”

The two sophomores have draped themselves over a couch in the front hall of Rogers House. A bag of Sour Patch Kids lies between them. There is no receptionist here, no waiting room or glossy self-help pamphlets. There are only squishy chairs and piles of junk food, and a small group of friendly, laid-back Stanford students.

After all, this isn’t Vaden-this is the Bridge.

The Bridge Peer Counseling Center is an antidote to the Vaden blues, a place for students to call or drop-by when they’re stressed or upset, or just need to talk. Staffed entirely by students - both graduate and undergrad - it provides a 24-hour support system for the Stanford community.

“We’re the first line of defense,” Marcella says. Reaching for another Sour Patch Kid, Kyle nods in agreement.

Starting Out

Initially formed as a student-run drug rehabilitation center, the Bridge’s function has evolved considerably since its inception in 1971. Three live-in staffers- Evaldez, Laurence Moore ‘08, and Marisa Schottelkorb ‘06-provide drop-in counseling from 9 am to midnight. Here, students are encouraged to discuss anything on their mind-from stress over an impending IHUM paper to their struggles with an eating disorder or depression. The center’s 24-hour phone lines, managed by twenty-five part-time volunteers, also offer assistance to the community.

In order to become a counselor for the Bridge, students must complete Education 193A: Core Listening Skills, as well as Education 193P: Peer Counseling at the Bridge. Both courses, a combined workload of only three units, are offered each quarter.

Professor Mary Mendoza-Newman, a licensed psychologist at Vaden’s analogous Counseling And Psychological Services program, teaches the course, and sections are led by current Bridge counselors. To hone their communication skills, students discuss textbook scenarios and perform role-playing exercises. At times, they even share their own problems and seek advice from each other.

Evaldez stumbled across the class at the beginning of his freshman year. Entering Stanford as a prospective Computer Science major, he took the class on a whim.

“My HPAC said he’d heard good things about it,” he said.

Like so many Stanford students, he found his interests shifting with the discovery of a new passion.

“That quarter, CS didn’t really work out for me, but I fell in love with the Bridge class,” he said.

Inspired by his experience with the Bridge, he now plans to pursue a major in psychology.

“Not only is it rewarding helping the community,” Evaldez explains, “but I really think I could be doing this long-term.”

Not only aspiring psychologists opt to become Bridge counselors: Chibbaro is an International Relations major. Like Evaldez, she took the course on the recommendation of a friend and found herself enjoying it more than she anticipated. However, she has come to view her work as more than a hobby-she sees it as an important part of the effort to address mental health issues on campus.

“There are a lot of people who need help and aren’t reaching out for it, so I like being part of this community that’s trying to be there for them,” she says.

Some people, on the other hand, simply take the course to acquire better communication skills. “They’re good life skills, just listening skills,” Evaldez insists. “I mean, if you actually want to learn something useful,” he adds with a grin.

Life at the Bridge

As if in respect to its past, the atmosphere at the center still retains traces of a more laid-back era. The staff room is pleasantly disorganized; a desk stands in one corner, papers scattered all across its surface. Nearby, two beat-up couches face a large-screen TV - the one over which debate had ensued earlier.

The staffers are not solemn-faced, anti-septic professionals, either. All come across as warm, caring people, but no two counselors are truly the same. Together, they illustrate a cross-section of Stanford personalities, with each counselor bringing different skills and experiences to the table.

“We have super-loud, energetic people like Whitney [Martin ‘09] and then we have like the really, really quiet, shy staffers, but there’s no one common personality,” says Evaldez. “The one common trait is that we all want to help people, as cheesy as that sounds.”

“It’s a commitment to listening to and caring about people, and also to Stanford, and giving back to the community,” adds Chibbaro.

In the hierarchy of Stanford’s mental health community, the Bridge lies somewhere between talking to your RA and seeking help from CAPS. The Bridge offers anonymity, in contrast to talks with dormmates, but also presents itself as a lighter, more immediate alternative to CAPS.

“It’s a different structure than going to your RA, just in terms of our methods and the way that we talk to people,” Chibbaro said.

Moore sees being a stranger as an advantage.

“We’re the people who don’t have prior assumptions about you, so, in that sense, it might be easier to talk to us, because you don’t have a relationship with us,” he said.

Chibbaro says that the peer-oriented nature of the Bridge makes it more accessible than CAPS. She describes the centers’ relationship as a “partnership.”

“For a lot of people, [we’re] the ones they feel comfortable calling, like their peers, for free services they don’t have to deal with any logistical type-planning things for,” she said. “But there are cases where we can’t help them and we recognize that.”

Heightened Stress,

Awareness Increase Visits

On average, the center conducts one counsel-either a phone call or a drop-in-each day. Recently, though, the center has had closer to two or three. The staff attributes this to the winter quarter weather, as well as midterm-induced stress.

“Our counsels definitely go up during peak emotional periods,” explains Evaldez.

The rise in counsels could also be due to increasing awareness about mental health on campus. According to Bridge counselors, after the apparent suicide of Mengyao “May” Zhou, students have begun to pay closer attention to the effects of the Stanford Duck Syndrome.

Nikki Freeman, a freshman staffer at the Bridge, is already familiar with it: she says that she encounters it every day in her dorm, Naranja.

With a Bridge counselor sign on her door, her peers know they can approach her for help. Behind closed doors, they are open about their struggles, but outside, she says, they appear cheerful and carefree.

“People try and act like everything’s completely fine and under control, but you know, you know that they’re going through stuff,” Freeman says.

She wants Stanford students to know that the Bridge is there to listen.

“People think that you can only come to the Bridge if you have something really serious to talk about-anything else you should be able to deal with on your own. But you don’t have to deal with that on your own. That’s what we’re here for-really, you can talk about anything.”

To speak to a Bridge counselor, call (650) 723-3392 or stop by Rogers House at 581 Capistrano Way.

Contact Marissa Miller at marissamiller10@stanford.edu.