Contrary to my survival instincts, I watched a federal press conference earlier this month. It was the usual mishmash of mixed messages and not-subtle-at-all (and patronizing) slips of the hand. The overarching message: “Things are fine.”
“But what about…”
“Now, now, never mind that, things are fine. Great, even.”
The vice president stood behind the podium, took off his mask, and said something to the effect of, “We need to get kids back in school in person this fall. We need to think of their mental health.”
Enter stage left, the title of this piece. Hypocrisy really gets my goat all riled up, snorting and bucking. Let’s not pretend that this “plan” to send children back to school in the fall is about anything other than money. Really.
Then, I’m happy to engage in conversation about the economy. We cannot simultaneously talk about how schools will help students with their mental health in the midst of a global trauma while, on the down-low, not making mental health the priority in the return-to-school plans (whether virtual, hybrid or in-person).
I know the press conference comment to be hypocritical because child mental health has never been mentioned in any other federal press conference I’ve seen. At least, not in this administration. Not even when we were talking about kids in cages. Remember them?
Believe me, as a child therapist for a quarter of a century, I listen for this topic. Our society as a collective only occasionally and limply utters a mention about childhood mental health, and those utterings usually follow a school shooting. Then, suddenly, those of us in the field are asked, “Why didn’t you see that he was a ticking time bomb?”
A child’s mental health informs the rest of everything else they do at school. Here’s the thing, we are in a crisis of childhood mental health. The pandemic has exacerbated this. School helps (some, not all) kids feel better. For many kids, the classroom is the only safe place they know. Believe me, I’ve been spending hours in a corner of my basement doing telehealth sessions with children.
One morning this month, I watched a child (age 11) barely able to pick her head up off the table (she finally showed me her cat, I considered that a therapeutic “win.”) I spoke with another child (age 13) who has been virtually “ghosted” by all her friends and wants to cut her skin. I spoke with a child (age 9) who said, “It would be better if I died.”
I could fill my caseload many times over with preschoolers who are experiencing nightmares, lengthy temper tantrums and toileting regression.
Now, I’m going to whisper a secret: We were in a childhood mental health crisis before the pandemic. I whispered that because I’ve been yelling loudly about this for years. I’m trying a new tactic; wish me luck.
For the comment by the vice president to not be hypocritical, here’s what would be happening:
1. There would be no shortage of money for school this year. In fact, money would be poured by the bucket into every budget. A bail out, if you will. You know, like the ones they do for corporations.
2. Because money would not be an object, the people responsible for the oversight of the social/emotional well-being of our children in our schools would not be the first to be cut from the payroll.
3. That’s happening right now. Do you know this? Adjustment counselors, school social workers and behaviorists are losing their jobs, as well as art, music and physical education teachers. Do you know that rhythm is a fabulous way of helping an emotionally stressed child calm down and be ready for learning? Like drumming and clapping and singing. Like, music class.
4. The clinicians — master’s degree required, $60,000 of student loan debt, often at minimum — working in community mental health settings would be paid a living wage. While caring for caseloads of 60-plus clients, they would also be able to afford things like gas.
5. We would stop (don’t panic, only momentarily) talking about “catching children up” academically, move the academic starting line to a different place, and wonder how we might use virtual (or in-person) classroom spaces to help children process the global trauma(s). Stressed children can’t learn, their brains are otherwise occupied with stress.
6. There would be avenues for teachers to process helping the children process the global trauma(s). Their interventions would be trauma-informed.
7. Finally, you know how a lot of money is given to corporations that already have a lot of money? I’m proposing the same thing, but for parents. If we really care about childhood mental health, we have to support the caregivers. Like a big safety net.
I have other thoughts about this, of course. What if a (high-risk) teacher dies? What might that do to the mental health of the students? I’ve consulted to two classrooms in which a beloved teacher died unexpectedly mid-year. I’d tell you all about my experiences there if I could hold back tears.
One of the classes was kindergarten. The faces of 20 5-year-olds, all with the same question, “Why did she have to die?” What if your child was the student who inadvertently brought COVID-19 into the school to that teacher? I’m guessing here, but the mental health of that child may suffer.
Mind you, I’ve been around enough blocks in the childhood mental health world to know better than to hold my breath. I would’ve passed out long ago. And, I want us to be crystal clear about the real conversations being had here. To quote James Carville, it’s “the economy, stupid.”
Alice Barber is a local child therapist and is the author of “Blue Butterfly Open: Moments from a Child Psychotherapy Practice” (Gallery of Readers Press, 2015).