Irish Teacher: Asking children to wear masks isn't abuse — they are learning to care about their communities
My nine-year-old daughter was asked to name her hero for a school project last week; she decided without hesitation.
“My hero is my Great Grandma Margaret,” she wrote, “because she lived through World War Two and had to go live with strangers because people were bombing her city.”
I wondered afterwards if she picked her hero, 94-year-old Margaret Clarke, because she recognised a connection. The project wasn’t the only thing happening last week; she also started to wear a mask to school because of rising cases among her age group in a global pandemic.
I suspect, though I’d never say it, that she also sees herself as a little heroic. Or maybe I just hope she does.
From my experience of young people, one thing I’m certain of (granted, there isn’t much!) is that they respond to respect, responsibility and generally, being taken seriously. This goes from the small stuff to the universal. They earnestly protect their classmates with nut allergies. They enjoy recycling, coming up with ways to save their planet. My own students are campaigning for a school building. They’re out there in the media asking for basic facilities and they’re amazing at it.
It’s such a shame when us adults short-change them by under-estimating them.
National commentators this week have framed my daughter’s mask wearing as something to be angry about. Children are being abused and silenced, they suggest, gagged by the fabric across their mouths. They accuse adults of failing them; us poor parents are being gaslit by schools and politicians.
I object to this misrepresentation of my daughter and her actions. She doesn’t want her friends to get sick. Or her family. Or herself. She’s happy to make a small sacrifice. Hopefully, this is a sign of the empathetic adult she’s set to become.
My children also understand that other children are less fortunate than them, locally and globally. They understand that children eighty years ago were also less fortunate. They hear stories about my father being shipped off to West Cork to avoid the polio epidemic in the 1950s. I heard the same stories. And rightly so.
The anti-mask commentary out there, presented as pro-children, makes me worry about the kind of citizens we’re producing. Do we want our children to be global citizens or not? Do we want them to grow up thinking only of themselves? As chartered counselling psychologist Zara Flynn powerfully asserted online, “Children learn skills when mask-wearing in a safe & familiar environment. Skills such as empathic attunement to those in wider local & global communities; skills of compassion & kindness for the vulnerable; problem-solving skills & critical thinking; asking questions “Why exactly am I wearing this mask?”’
In an age-appropriate way, we should always remind loved children how lucky they are, so that they can live a life of gratitude, anchored in feelings of empathy and compassion.
The sad truth is that many children in Ireland are abused. Far too many. Many are homeless or in long-term direct provision. Many suffer extreme neglect. Physical abuse. Sexual abuse. Many await long-overdue surgeries and assessments. Many are forgotten in our education system, without school places or basic adequate supports. Globally, children are hungry, stateless, and trafficked. These are the children we should write about, the children we’ve really failed.
I’m willing to accept criticisms of the Department of Education for asking schools to turn children away for arriving at the school gate without a mask. We all need to be patient and understanding here, and a child should never be the fallout in an argument between adults. I’ll also echo what every teacher knew before the condescending reminders: certain children should not be asked to wear them.
But both points are separate to my main concern.
My child is not a victim. She is not being abused. She is learning what it means to care for her community. Her great grandmother is her chosen hero for a reason. My girl understands how hard it must have been, to travel on that train to an unknown place without the comfort of parents or friends. On a deep level she recognises her own privilege.
It’s disappointing that a lot of grown-ups out there can’t recognise theirs.
