I cried after dropping my 6-year-old off at school today. He waved to a friend who called his name in a sing-song voice. I lingered in the drop-off lane to watch him skip into the building, his shoulders carrying only the weight of his Cars backpack. As he should.
The teachers standing guard outside greeted the kids with smiles that concealed their own grief, fear, and exhaustion. We’ve placed too much on their shoulders, expecting them to buy our kids’ supplies, to cope with the social and emotional fallout of the pandemic, to act as front-line soldiers to protect our kids.
I drove away, leaving a piece of myself behind, praying that my baby comes home safe, and crying for all the babes that never will.
And as my day continues, as my life goes on, as I drink my coffee and clack away on my laptop, as I make my preschooler a PB&J sandwich, I can’t stop picturing all the empty beds this morning, the drawers of clothes untouched, the toothbrushes hidden in medicine cabinets, the favorite toys abandoned in the middle of rooms painted in primary colors.
If and what I should tell my child
Before sending my kid off to school, I debated if and what I should tell my child about the Texas school shooting.
Part of me didn’t want to. I’d much rather keep him safe, keep him innocent, keep him oblivious to the horrors of this world. But the only way I could successfully do that would be to surround him in bubble wrap and keep him home. As appealing as that sounds compared to the worst possible alternative, I also want him to experience life with confidence, knowledge, curiosity, and excitement.
Letting him experience the world means he’s going to learn about these things. And I’d much rather he learn about the bad stuff from me, his biggest advocate and support system, so that I can help him process his feelings while comforting and reassuring him.
With this decision in mind, I searched for resources to help me know what to say, especially to a young child. Thankfully, the admins of the Peaceful Parenting with Sarah Rosensweet Facebook group came through, and they pointed me to a post from A New Day Pediatric Psychology, PLLC.
In this post, I learned to start these discussions by
- telling my child that something bad happened and he might hear people talking about it
- letting him know that I want him to hear about this from me first so I can answer his questions
- stating as simply as possible what happened
- asking him what he might have already heard and what he knows about it
- responding to his questions honestly, simply, and without oversharing
- asking him how he feels
- helping him feel comfortable
I had this info in front of me while I spoke with him, and so our conversation began. For those of you curious how one 6-year-old handled this, I’ve included below a transcript of our conversation. His questions and reactions surprised me.
What about me?
Usually, I journal to release what’s festering inside me. I wasn’t able to bring myself to do that this time. I need time to rest and breathe, to slow down, and to be gentle with myself because I feel rather fragile right now.
I’m feeling jaded too.
The older I get, the more I realize how much money dictates our lives. Not morality. Not common sense. Not the greater good. But money. And no matter how much we holler and plead and cry, no matter how many candle-light vigils we organize, no matter how many streets we march down, no matter how many magazines print pictures of parents collapsing in parking lots, nothing much will change. After all, not much changed after Sandy Hook.
I must pause here before I spiral into bitterness and hopelessness, which won’t help anyone.
Thus, I have to consciously change what I’m telling myself. Because words have power, as they can move us and others to take action. And what we focus on grows.
When my son falls prey to pessimism and anger, I tell him that the world needs more acts of love and kindness, that he can choose to spread goodness out into the world.
We all can, by choosing kind words when we speak to our friends and family, buying a cup of coffee for the next person in line, leaving holiday cards at all the neighbors’ doors, or bringing a meal to someone struggling.
We can also still work toward change, whether that’s through donating blood or money, volunteering our services, amplifying others’ voices, attending local board meetings, and voting for better elected officials.
Pessimism and hopelessness are easy traps. But you need only one small step to start walking away from them.
Transcript of my conversation with my son
Note: I decided to talk to my son while he was eating breakfast, because that tends to be a quiet moment during our chaotic mornings.
Me: Hey bud, I want to chat with you for a moment. Something bad happened at a school in Texas, and I want to talk with you about it because you might hear other kids or teachers talking about it.
Child: What happened?
Me: Someone entered a school with a gun and people got hurt. Do you have any questions you want to ask me?
Child: What kind of gun?
Me: I believe it was a pistol and a rifle.
Child: What’s a pistol and a rifle?
Me: I’m not a gun expert, but a pistol is not much bigger than your hand. And a rifle is really long.
Child: Did he do this on accident or on purpose?
Me: [I tried to not show my emotions here.] On purpose.
Child: [His eyes opened wide with surprise. Then he took a few more bites of cereal.] He went for the principal, didn’t he?
Me: I think the principal is okay. [He nodded and then resumed eating.] How does this make you feel?
Child: It makes me feel sad for all those hurt.
Me: Me too, bud. Me too.
I asked him if he knew where Texas was on our map, and I showed him. I gave him a big hug, and then he asked for his audio book. As I said above, he went skipping into school not even 30 minutes later.
The resilience of babes.
