Listening to What Children Are Trying to Tell Us
My work designing school-based programs has always been grounded in one core understanding: children’s behavior makes sense in the context of their lives. When children act out, withdraw, or stop showing up, they are communicating something—often about pain, disconnection, or unmet needs.
Findings highlighted by Bessel van der Kolk, MD, in The Body Keeps the Score, include the sobering reality that abuse crosses all socioeconomic lines. In my years as a licensed Marriage and Family Therapist, and through programs I designed and ran in public schools, I saw this firsthand.
I also lived it.
I grew up in an upper-class family, but my mother was abusive from the time I was born. I went through school feeling invisible. Even now, I have almost no memories of school, except for one year—sixth grade. That year, a teacher saw me. She connected with me in a way no one else had. That relationship changed the trajectory of my life.
After retiring at 70, I remembered my mother’s abuse and spent years processing the grief and pain. My older sister later confirmed that the neglect began in infancy—my mother often let me cry without responding. Hearing that helped explain the deep sense of invisibility that followed me through childhood.
Because of this, I have always been troubled by how schools respond to children who struggle. Too often, we punish truancy, disruptive behavior, or disengagement without asking what those behaviors mean. I hear them as signals—cries for connection.
Children don’t have many ways to tell us they need help. Acting out, skipping school, or frequently visiting the nurse are often the only signals available to them. When we respond with punishment instead of curiosity, we miss the opportunity to intervene in meaningful ways.
In one of the programs I developed, “Thursdays After School,” we saw remarkable results by doing something simple but powerful: ensuring that each struggling child had a consistent, caring relationship with an adult in the school, with whom they spent one hour a week. These were teachers, janitors, cooks, and secretaries who did not act as disciplinary figures, but someone who truly saw them. The children's absenteeism rates declined significantly, and their reading levels greatly improved. The program did not cost anything to implement, and all who participated chose to continue the following year. Teachers often say they are too busy for this—and they are. Classrooms are crowded, and demands are high. But many teachers also found this experience deeply
rewarding. It gave them a sense of purpose and connection that is often missing in today’s educational environment.
My own experience reinforces this. I was dyslexic, though it was not diagnosed until I was 37. For years, I carried the belief that I was “dumb,” a message reinforced at home. But that sixth-grade teacher connected with me. She encouraged me to play baseball, where I discovered I had real ability. That sense of competence and belonging changed everything for me.
Today, absenteeism is rising. In the 2023-24 school year, 23% of American school children were chronically absent. We can respond by tightening rules and increasing penalties, or we can ask a different question: What are these children trying to tell us?
I believe the answer is clear. They are asking to be seen, to be known, and to feel that they matter.
Schools are uniquely positioned to provide this, but they need the right structure. One solution is to place school social workers at the center of this effort. They are trained to understand family dynamics, trauma, and developmental needs. They can build bridges between students, teachers, and families, and ensure that no child falls through the cracks.
If we fail to act, the consequences will extend far beyond the classroom. Children who grow up without their emotional needs being met are more likely to struggle later in life—sometimes in ways that burden our social systems.
But it doesn't have to be that way.
We already know what works. A single caring adult can change a child's life. I am living proof of that.
It’s time to build systems that make those relationships not the exception, but the norm.
Contact me if you would like to discuss this further. patpmcvey@msn.com