Noah, my five-year-old nephew, just started reception. It’s a big transition, and he wants to share it. But his grandmas, who used to look after him twice a week, can’t pick him up from school and he wants to know why not. And why can’t he hug his 85 year old grandpa or go to their home anymore? His mother, afraid for them and for her own mother, is scared to answer, worried her words will frighten him.
I wonder what my grandmother would have told Noah were she here. My father was Noah’s age in World War II, when she carried him each night into the Tube after the air raid sirens rang. When my dad talks about the Blitz, he recounts seeing burning buildings, hearing the shouts of rescuers and victims, and smelling bodies pressed together in the Tube tunnels. What he doesn’t remember is fear.
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He remembers feeling safe in his mother’s arms. What encouragement did she whisper as she pressed him close in the dark, waiting for the “all clear” to sound? What can my sister-in-law tell Noah or any of us say to our own children that will impart that same lifelong feeling of security? And how, like my grandmother, can she keep her own fears from infecting her son? As a psychologist specializing in parenting and trauma, I can hazard a guess.
Helping children weather the microbial “Blitz” now upon us could be the toughest challenge yet for many parents. And with a new school year their questions lately seem to multiply like the virus itself: Mum, if someone in my class gets ill, will school close? Will I catch the virus and give it to you? And Dad, I hugged my boyfriend and now his uncle is ill. Am I going to get COVID?
“Of course not!” you want to say. “Go play.” Or “That won’t happen; don’t you have homework to do?” Just. Don’t. Worry, you want to tell them. Yet you’re worried yourself and they can tell. Saying nothing may feel safer than opening up and possibly blurting out the wrong thing. But telling our children not to feel anxious won’t dispel the anxiety and will likely make it worse. If we shy away from their questions, they’ll seek answers elsewhere, in overheard adult conversations, among rumors from their peers, and in the rushing, muddy waters of the internet. Any of that will be scarier than whatever you can tell them. Even the starkest facts about our world’s scarier side will always sound better coming from you.
We have shown ourselves willing to turn our lives upside down to keep our families safe in a pandemic. But keeping our children feeling safe in a new school year requires something even simpler: listening to and talking with them about feelings. I call these exchanges “essential conversations" – a concerted routine of hearing what’s worrying kids and offering validation, facts, and hope in response.
We are anxious, of course. We can’t simply erase our emotions any more than we can wipe away theirs. What we can do instead is model for them that feelings are okay to have (and will come, willy-nilly), but we don’t have to let them overcome us. Practicing “essential conversations” helps us learn to set our own feelings aside long enough to engage our children around theirs.
Taking care of our panic (or anger or despair) first is like putting on our own oxygen masks before assisting our children with theirs. It’s as simple as a deep breath or sneaking a “time out” (Hey, let’s have snack first and then talk about your day).
When turning to children who’ve just asked a hard question about school or the virus, we start first not with words, but with the emotions we hear behind them, helping them name what they are feeling. That recognition validates their feelings, reassuring our kids that their storms of emotion are real and normal and okay. Your face looks all scrunched up, we might say, using the specific labeling language of emotion coaching. Are you feeling it in your tummy? And I remember when I was your age and I was so scared of walking into school after the long summer holiday and having to follow so many rules.
Then we listen, hard, hearing out a child’s concerns (rather than guessing at them) before offering the best reassurance we can without making promises we can’t keep. So while we can’t pronounce, School will be fine! It’ll be just like normal and you’ll all stay safe, we can talk about what grownups are doing to help keep kids safe. While we can’t vow, This won’t be a problem for you, we can convey, It’s my job to take care of you and I’m doing my best to keep you safe. And we can buttress those assurances with age-appropriate information and, when possible, brainstorm together ways to address our worries. If they concern how and why COVID is spread, for instance, with a younger child, we might start with information on handwashing and social distancing: Viruses enter our bodies by going from our hands into our mouths and eyes, so washing our hands turns out to be a great way to stay safe and keep others safe. We know the virus can be hard on older people, so Grandma will stay at home. She may be missing you – what could we make for her and then show her on FaceTime? Older children may be open to hearing about medical progress or helping with community efforts like sending cards to seniors or making face masks.
My grandmother died before I was born. I know of her only through photographs and my father’s memories. Yet those early memories of his parents’ helping him feel safe as bombs fell gave my father a feeling of security I still see in him today, unafraid of what’s in the air around him: Neither rumors nor virus can shake his lifelong confidence that all will be well. My sister-in-law finally did talk with Noah about why his grandma can’t pick him up from school, using words he can understand. He seems less anxious now.
Essential conversations are a skill that can be practiced and a muscle that can be strengthened. They are the surest way to strengthen our kids and arm them against the world’s ability to shake us up, and not only in the current crisis. In the long run, they could benefit your and your kids’ mental health, with an impact that can last 80 years and counting.
When the World Feels Like a Scary Place: Essential Conversations for Anxious Parents and Worried Kids by Abigail Gewirtz, published by Souvenir Press, £14.99