I know I’m not alone in my worry about young people’s mental health. Teachers, parents, school counselors, doctors, and mental health professionals share this concern. How can we, as the adults in their lives, help?
“Are you mad at me?” It’s the first thing Riley says when she comes back to class after missing nine straight days of school. I’m not mad; I’m worried. Riley misses school not because of physical illness, but because of anxiety so great she can’t get herself out the door and into her mom’s car in the mornings. She’s a conscientious student who wants to come to school, but fear makes it feel impossible. After she misses a day or two, she worries about her teachers being mad and about being so behind she can’t catch up. She worries about what other kids think and what they’ll say, and that keeps her home for another day. Riley has missed more days of school this year than she has come, and she’s not the only one.
I’ve been a teacher for more than twenty years, and I’ve never seen kids so anxious and afraid. I’ve seen students struggle with friends and family and schoolwork, what we think of as the normal stressors of adolescence, but nothing like what I see today. Today I see kids like Riley who don’t make it to school, and others who sit in their parents’ cars in the parking lot, so anxious they can’t get out. I have students who text their parents throughout the school day, pleading to be picked up, others who cry in the bathroom, and some who just check out with their heads down.
How can adults help?
I know I’m not alone in my worry about young people’s mental health. Teachers, parents, school counselors, doctors, and mental health professionals share this concern. How can we, as the adults in their lives, help?
We can acknowledge that what they’re feeling is real.
It’s not apathy or defiance making kids miss school. They aren’t being lazy or stubborn. The Centers for Disease Control finds that mental health among young people is getting worse. Forty percent of high school students, like those I see in my classroom, experience feelings of sadness and hopelessness that won’t go away. Young people like Riley are suffering, and they need us to know that it’s real.
We can view mental health the way we view physical health.
The anxiety my students experience can be as acute and debilitating as a bout of pneumonia, or as chronic and damaging as asthma. We know that a fever requires attention and care. So, too, does the anxiety that overwhelms my students and frightens their parents. The American Academy of Pediatrics has defined children’s mental health needs as a national emergency. For Riley, and for others with similar struggles, mental healthcare is just as necessary as physical healthcare.
We can communicate our care and concern.
It helps Riley to hear that I’m not mad at her and that, in fact, I care about her not just as a student, but as a person. When she can talk to me, to her school counselor, and to her mom, she feels less alone. It makes her situation feel more manageable and helps her come to school and make it through the day. Experts on teen mental health, like Dr. Kathleen Ethier of the CDC, and Dr. Nick Allen of the University of Oregon, emphasize the importance of connecting with struggling teens. Trusting relationships with the adults in their lives is protective for Riley and for kids who struggle like she does.
We can work together
Riley can’t manage her mental health struggles alone. She needs the adults in her life to work together. When we build a protective network of home, school, medical, and behavioral health resources, we support and protect kids like Riley and make it possible for them to get the help they need.
The author, Michelle Macias, is a K-12 teacher in Tucson, Arizona and staff writer at Phoenix Therapists’ Hub. She frequently writes about mental health in schools.