How you talk to your child about difficult topics will depend on their age and maturity.PIKSEL/Getty Images
I wrote my book When We Were Alone because I wanted to teach young children about residential schools. Initially, there was resistance: I was told that you can’t write about hard history for young children. I believed that you could, and since 2016, that picture book has been in many schools in Canada because you can teach children about hard things. In fact, you ought to.
That principle feels especially relevant right now as the world faces a difficult time. Destabilizing events dominate news headlines, and parents can feel torn between protecting their kids − particularly adolescents and teens − and wanting to help them understand what’s going on. I’ve spent much of my career writing tough stories for young people, and through that work, I’ve learned they are more than capable of holding complicated truths. The question is not if we should share those truths, but how.
Be honest in an age-appropriate way
Kids are intelligent; sometimes we don’t give them enough credit for this. At the same time, intelligence does not necessarily equate with emotional maturity and the ability to deal with hard realities, whether past or present. A certain level of protection is warranted, but protection does not mean avoidance of the truth. Start by being honest. Don’t disguise reality but carefully consider how much detail is age appropriate. Teens are presumably more ready to learn about hard things than younger children. Begin with a clear explanation: “Here is what’s happening, here’s why people are talking about it.” Then, allow your teen to decide where to go next.
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That being said, kids mature at different speeds, at different ages. It’s like puberty. So age appropriateness is subjective. What information can a young person take in without fear or trauma, but with understanding and empathy? Some 14-year-olds can grasp a complex political landscape, while others might feel overwhelmed. Some kids want to know everything, while others want only what helps them feel steady. You know your kid best and how to meet them where they’re at. Let’s say your teen lives with anxiety. You may need to offer less detail and more reassurance. If they’re analytical and curious, they may want context, history, and whatever nuance you can offer. In the end, you have to trust your instincts.
Make space for their emotions
When tackling hard subjects with youth, I’ve learned to offer emotional anchors. I try to give my young readers moments to pause and reflect − and this approach can work well when talking to your kids too, whether it’s about domestic or global events. Facts are important, especially when things in the world feel uncertain and confusing, but feelings should come first. Overwhelming a teen with too many facts, without making space for emotion, means information won’t be absorbed. Simple phrases of acknowledgment can offer that emotional anchor.
I was talking to kids recently about residential schools, and a young child said to me, distraught, that they couldn’t believe something like that had really happened. It’s a statement that just as easily could have come from the mouth of a teen or, frankly, an adult. What do you say in that instance? I told the kid, “It’s an important statement, because it means that you’re feeling something for somebody else. That’s empathy.” For a teen, you might say something as simple as, “I know this is a lot to take in,” and then give them time to pause and absorb and continue the discussion when they’re ready.
Remember: you don’t need to be an expert
When I write about a subject like residential schools, I suppose I am somewhat of an expert. I’ve done a lot of research, and I have lived experience: I am an intergenerational survivor. But you don’t need to be an expert. Your kid just needs you to be human.
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Young people are perceptive. They know when an adult is faking certainty – I’ve seen it at a school, and I’ve seen it with my kids. There’s no harm in telling your teen that you don’t have the answers, but you’re trying to understand, too. It’s an invitation to learn together, rather than setting up a hierarchy where you are the teacher and they are the student. And it models something important: Nobody stops trying to make sense of the world.
Focus on agency
A hard feeling for anybody, especially teens, is a feeling of helplessness. This emotion is especially real when we are witnesses to devastating global events. When the world is unsteady, kids need to feel that they are not powerless and that they have agency to help in some way.
Agency doesn’t need to mean activism on a global scale, although kids are certainly capable of it. It can be as simple as showing compassion (that all-important empathetic response), writing in a journal, creating art, or working to learn more about an issue. Knowledge equals agency.
Stay closely connected
Conversations that matter happen within relationships. Whether I’m writing for young readers or speaking with my own kids, I remember that connection is primary. The point isn’t to deliver a perfect explanation, it’s letting them know that even in difficult times, they aren’t alone.
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Ask them how they’re doing, check in again later, and let them know they can come back to the conversation if they have to pause. When I finish writing a book for young people, I want it to be something they return to as they learn and grow. Hard chats with teens work similarly. Understanding takes time. Healing takes time.
And the world keeps spinning and shifting underneath our feet.
David A. Robertson is a two-time Governor-General’s Literary Award winner and has won the TD Canadian Children’s Literature Award and the Writers’ Union of Canada Freedom to Read Award. He is a member of Norway House Cree Nation and lives in Winnipeg.