Validating fears helps students to face them

Starting the school year, any child in any grade can have a litany of concerns. Will my friends still be my friends? What if I don't like my teachers? Who will I sit with at lunch?

Most of the time, fears dissipate within the first week or two, which, in most communities, would be right about now. This year may be different.

Maybe your child wasn't aware of the Chechen rebels' bloody attack on the school in Beslan, Russia, two weeks ago or of the rash of killings in Boston this summer, but at least some of her classmates probably were. Now, weeks later, at recess and lunch, in hallways and on buses, talk of the violence may come up in dribs and drabs that are unconnected and inaccurate: "There was lots of shooting on a playground in Boston. My cousin saw a man die." "A terrorist went to a school in Russia with a bomb and killed all the children."

It doesn't take much for a first- or third- or fifth-grader to draw individual, egocentric connections: "I don't ever want to go to Boston. I could get shot." "My playground isn't safe." "If a school in Russia can get blown up, my school could too." Child-development specialists call this magical thinking, because it isn't logical and the conclusion a child comes to is idiosyncratically his own, based on experience, media exposure, and temperament.

So what does this have to do with the first or second week of school?

"It potentially adds a layer of worry to what is already often a confusing, stressful time," making reactions more intense and noticeable, says Wheelock College early-childhood educator Diane Levin.

"I bet school nurses will be busier than usual this fall," says Jamaica Plain pediatrician Eileen Costello. In July and August, there were significantly more referrals than usual to Boston Medical Center's Child Witness to Violence Project. "I don't have numbers," says director Betsy McAlister Groves, "but the ripple effects of 26 murders [for the summer] was huge." Groves is author of "Children Who See Too Much" (Beacon Press).

Costello is thinking about children who turn their fears into physical symptoms such as head and tummy aches, or pains in an arm or leg, as well as those with psychological symptoms that she says may not surface for weeks after a child hears something: trouble separating (an 8-year-old who suddenly doesn't want to go upstairs at night by herself); increased aggressiveness (someone bumps into him in line and he lashes out); and concentration problems. This last symptom can be a problem because it could misidentified as a learning disability or behavior problem.

This strikes Costello as particularly sad. "It's often just worry that's not getting addressed," she says.

No matter where it happens, violence of any kind typically doesn't register on a child's radar screen unless he or she is personally affected. The day after one of the shootings in Dorchester, a 5-year-old girl was in Costello's office because she couldn't stop vomiting. Costello was quick to diagnose it as trauma from having seen a man shot and killed the day before, when she and her father were at the playground.

There also are children who glom onto these events because of temperament. Dawn Rouse of Strafford, N.H., hid the newspapers last week so daughter Emily, who started first grade, wouldn't see images from Beslan. "Things like that worry her deeply. She fixates on them," says Rouse.

Any child, however, can be affected. When victims include children, and adults are talking about it, "children of every age have an uncanny ability to tune in," says Costello.

Groves says that parents mistakenly assume children at either end of the age spectrum are protected from worry: preschoolers because they have no access to information or can't make sense of what they do hear, teens because they can put it into a context and know enough to talk about it if they need to. In fact, those age groups are most vulnerable.

"Preschoolers don't understand cause and effect, it's more overwhelming to them," she says. "We also know that . . . if a parent is upset, the child will be, too." But teenagers "tend to be more frightened, not less, precisely because they do know more about the world." Given their stage of development and need to move away from parents, they are less likely to share worries, however.

For the ages in between, there's a wide range of reactions, including those who withdraw (they don't want to worry parents or teachers); who brag about what they know (an effort to mask their fears); and who lash out in anger, emulate superheros, or regress (ways to feel safer).

In Boston public schools, Carolyn Riley, senior director for unified student services, anticipates more children will be anxious this fall than usual. Staff is available at all 135 schools for support and counsel. While she says teachers are being reminded of signs of stress, the system is not encouraging them to raise issues in the classroom.

Groves and Levin would, however. Maybe not yet unless there is an impetus (an overheard comment), but certainly next week or after, once trust is established. Otherwise, the message is: This is too scary to talk about.

Starting in first grade and into high school, Groves might say, "I know there were some scary things that happened in the world this summer. What do you know?" With young children, just the process of sharing scary thoughts with an adult makes them feel better. With elementary- and middle-school children, it lets them know nothing is too scary or troubling to talk about.

Here's more advice for teachers or parents who see signs of stress beyond the start-of-school variety, such as changes in eating or sleeping, difficulty doing homework, or daydreaming in class:

Reflect on the behavior: "It looks like you can't concentrate tonight. I wonder if you'd like a cuddle?"

Initiate a conversation: "Are you worried about anything? Are kids at school talking about anything that worries you?" "Did you hear about what happened at that school in Russia? Tell me what you know."

Place a human value around it. "It makes me so sad that human beings would do this to each other." Say this even with adolescents who appear so cavalier that that in itself worries you. "It's a way to get past the bravado," says Costello. To a Boston teen she might say, "You might not feel this way, but some kids worry about what all the murders this summer mean for us as a community." Don't force a conversation. It's enough just to put it out there.

Offer reassurance: Whether it's the violence in Boston, Russia, or Iraq, you can say, "There are lots of people working to make sure this never happens again." As a Boston pediatrician, Costello makes a point to bring up the violence with all her patients, regardless of age. "I just say, `It's been a hard summer. Some kids are sad or scared. I'm available to talk any time, if you want."

Even if it's months into the school year before that happens, she's convinced it's an effort worth making.

Contact Barbara Meltz at meltz@globe.com.