The Ridge nurse’s office has seen it all—freshmen stumbling in, looking like they might pass out, over-the-top reenactments of floor hockey injuries from Phys Ed 12, sophomores conveniently developing migraines right before their CP English reading check, and juniors just looking for a place to breathe after realizing they have three tests, two essays, and an AP Spanish project due tomorrow.
But today, when the door to Room 201 swings open, it’s not a student in need of care—it’s a ‘07 Ridge graduate, returning to give thanks to a school nurse.
“Mrs. Miller, you probably don’t remember me, but I wanted to come back and say thank you.”
Mrs. Miller barely blinks before breaking into a soft smile. “Your eyes gave it away—of course I remember those brown eyes.”
After 28 years at Ridge High School, Mrs. Miller has seen thousands of students pass through her office––and now, what she affectionately calls “grand-students,” the children (and even grandchildren) of former Ridge students. Despite the faces that come and go, she always remembers the ones who needed her the most.
And those needs? They’re as different as the students themselves. Some days, it’s minor stuff––like paper cuts or headaches that go away with Advil and a few minutes of rest. Other days, it’s more serious, with students needing to go home or get referred to the Guidance Department, the Athletic Trainers, or even to medical professionals outside of Basking Ridge. Oh, and don’t forget about the never-ending paperwork—it’s the behind-the-scenes stuff that keeps everything running smoothly.
Before becoming a school nurse, Mrs. Miller spent ten years in the ICU. But after losing her husband in a tragic incident, she made the difficult decision to leave her hospital shifts behind––school nurse hours helped her better support her family.
While the setting changed, the heart of the job didn’t. What makes Ridge so special to Mrs. Miller isn’t just the work—it’s the students, her patients, that she’s watched grow up. The little moments, like seeing freshmen nervously walk into her office for the first time and saying hi to seniors who stop by in between classes to share their college acceptances, remind her of why she’s still here.
Over the years, though, things have shifted. While she once treated more physical injuries, Ridge’s growing reputation as a pressure cooker has meant that Mrs. Miller now spends more time offering reassurance, listening, and guiding students through stress and anxiety. As a mom, she gets it. She wants to help. And she does—probably more than she realizes. But the hardest part? Knowing that sometimes, no matter how much she cares, she can’t fix everything.
And yet, she’s still here. For 28 years and counting. When asked about her future plans, Mrs. Miller looks thoughtful, her voice gentle.
“I have no plans to leave.”