There are certain times when your phone rings and you know instinctively this cannot be good. Such was the feeling I had when answering my cell one early evening in April. The call was one I hoped I would never have to take. Max Scotti, an angelic first grader who had been diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor just five months earlier, had died.
Unfailingly, an event like this puts everything in proper perspective. The ongoing worldwide discussions about an economic “crisis” just did not seem to deserve that moniker any longer. The true crisis for us was how to help the Scotti family. How would we communicate to six- and seven-year-old children about the death of their friend? How could we help Max’s brother, Trey, and his classmates in the second grade? How would we help our teachers, who were devastated? How could we help a community heal?
Though no effort on the part of any school can erase the deep sense of loss felt by family and friends when a child dies, we sought to respond in a way that was supportive and healing. At the core of our efforts was care and communication. Good communication not only prevented the crisis from being compounded by misinformation and undue anxiety, it was the foundation upon which all positive efforts to help were built.
In the months following Max’s death, parents and trustees have remarked how supportive the school was in traversing this most sensitive and difficult time, and many urged us to share our story with other administrators and faculty. Thus, I offer here, with the permission of the Scotti family, an overview of our response to this crisis in the hope that it might be helpful to others.
Receiving Bad News
When we learned that Max had cancer, our first priority was to communicate with the Scotti family in order to learn how we could best support them. We established two primary contacts at the school: the student’s teacher and the head of the lower school. The lower school head was to oversee all of the school’s efforts to assist the family. The teacher kept in touch with the parents on a daily basis, receiving updates from home and relaying information from the school day.
Crucially, effective communication enabled the school to act in alignment with the family’s wishes. In addition, we always obtained the family’s permission prior to any schoolwide communications related to their situation.
Coordinating Community Efforts to Support the Family
In my experience, when faced with tragedy, an independent school community comes together like none other. Repeatedly, I have witnessed faculty and parents extend extraordinary generosity — of resources, of time, of caring — when a member of the school community faces illness or personal tragedy. And this time was no exception.
When people received the letter informing them of Max’s diagnosis, everyone wanted to know what they could do to help. One of the many ways our school offered support to the Scotti family was for a teacher, staff member, or parent to deliver dinner to their house every night beginning in December. By coordinating efforts through the school, the family in crisis was able to receive help while maintaining their privacy and concentrating on their highest priorities.
Communicating with Faculty, Staff, and Parents
Timely and thorough communication with faculty and parents was critical in our efforts to help young students cope with the illness and subsequent death of their classmate. We were committed to providing parents with accurate information and to informing them prior to discussions we had with the children. It was essential never to assume that elementary-age children would relay information to their parents. A number of parents indicated that our communications greatly reduced the strain of the situation.
Through email, we sent letters to our families and faculty as joint communications from the lower school head and the headmaster. In all of our letters, we sought to accomplish the following:
1. Offer a clear description of the present situation.
2. Include specific information the student’s family wanted to share.
3. Explain how and when information would be discussed with the children at school.
4. Convey that parents would be kept updated and would always be informed before any further information was shared with their children.
5. Offer suggestions on how to move through the situation with their children.
6. Indicate that efforts to support the student’s family would be coordinated through the school.
7. Outline additional information parents could expect to receive.
8. Encourage parents to contact the lower school head or headmaster with questions or concerns.
Talking with Young Students
When addressing students in the lower school, we focused on presenting the information in a sensitive and age-appropriate manner. We found it most effective to make simple yet truthful statements and not to offer more information than needed.
In December, after word of the diagnosis first reached us, the lower school head spoke with the students in Max’s first grade class. They knew he had not been feeling well and that he had been dizzy. She told them that he was sick and would be visiting doctors who were trying to make him better. She also told the children that what Max had was not contagious. For the time being, that was enough. We encouraged both teachers and parents to avoid lengthy explanations if the children had further questions. Specific and brief answers are often the best responses.
The use of clear language was even more important when telling classmates that Max had died. Death is a difficult topic at any age, and one we certainly wish we could delay discussing with our students. As a school, however, we understood our responsibility to inform the children. We spoke with students in first, second, and third grades the day following his death. For children in nursery, pre-kindergarten, and kindergarten, we felt it was appropriate for their parents to decide what, if any, information to share with them.
In preparation for these difficult talks, the lower school head and I called an early morning faculty meeting, giving an overview of the plans to inform the children and what would be discussed. We also provided the teachers with advice and guidelines on answering student questions and suggested that they review a useful resource on the Internet: “Hospice: Talking to Children about Death” (www.hospicenet.org/html/talking.html).
Throughout the morning, the head of the lower school and I met with the children by grade level, enabling us to tailor our comments to the age of the children.
In each of our discussions with the children, we communicated the following:
• Max died yesterday at his home and his parents were present. (We were careful to use the word “died” and avoided euphemisms such as “passed away” or “is in a better place.”)
• Max had a serious condition — he had cancer.
• Max had very good doctors, who discovered that this cancer was unlike other types and was difficult to cure.
• Cancer is not contagious. (We emphasized the difference between the common cold or a virus and a disease such as cancer. You cannot “catch it.”)
• This is not something that happens often. It is extremely rare.
• Teachers might cry and hug each other. It is okay to be sad.
We found it beneficial to anticipate questions the children might ask in order to reflect on our answers in advance. This included any questions we would deflect. For example, sometimes children will ask where people go when they die. We felt this was personal and related to the values and religious beliefs of individual families, and should be addressed by parents.
Ultimately, however, it is not feasible to anticipate every question. Having thoughtfully prepared, we felt it best to bring ourselves to the moment and listen carefully to the children’s questions.
During our meetings, the children comfortably shared their emotions, experiences, and questions. The following is a sample of the children’s questions and our answers, which we emailed in a letter to lower school parents immediately after meeting with the students:
What happens when you die? How did his parents know he was dead?
When you die, your heart does not pump blood to parts of your body and you do not breathe. These were signs that his parents were able to see and feel.
What causes you to have cancer? Can it be cured?
We are lucky to be living today when we have many good doctors and researchers trying to find the answers to these questions. We know that certain things seem to be connected with having cancer (such as smoking). Eating a healthy diet and getting plenty of rest and exercise keeps our bodies healthy, but we do not have all of the answers to these questions. Researchers will continue to help solve these problems. (In several groups, we talked about diseases that are not as prevalent today as a result of research and medicine — e.g., polio.)
Does it hurt the minute you die?
As the head of the lower school thought for a moment, a student quickly offered: “She may not know this answer because she is alive. And you can never ask someone this question after they are dead.” That is certainly true, but it gave us the opportunity to tell the children that Max died while he was napping and that he probably did not hurt when he died. However, we quickly followed up with an explanation that falling asleep does not mean you are going to die. Falling asleep is a natural process of our body and helps our body refresh itself for the next day.
Am I going to die?
All living things on earth will die at some time. Life begins when we are born and ends when we die. We have had pets die, grandparents die, and flowers die. These are all living things whose lives have come to an end. We do not know when we are going to die. While this is something we might think about, it is not something that you should worry about.
At the end of our discussions with the lower school students, we told them we were proud of how well they handled some very difficult information and how thoughtful their responses were. Knowing that children need time to think about things and that they may not have questions immediately, we encouraged both teachers and parents to expect that they might ask something a week later, or even a month later.
Attending the Funeral
A number of parents had specific questions about the appropriateness of bringing their children to the funeral. We felt this was a personal decision for families to make. We encouraged parents to talk to their children about what to expect if they attended — to let them know it was a funeral, that there would be a casket in the church, and that people would be speaking about Max. We advised that children should not be coaxed to attend if they were not comfortable. On the other hand, in this instance, the occasion was to be a celebration of Max’s life. The parents requested that relatives and friends wear bright, spring colors, as Max was full of life. Attending a funeral may help a child accept the reality of death while being supported by family and friends. For those, however, who felt concern about bringing children to the service, there was a reception at the parents’ home, which had been planned with children in mind.
Creating Opportunities for Closure
As a school, we wanted to create an opportunity for closure for the students in Max’s class — something that would be both meaningful and appropriate for first grade children. We chose to hold a tree-planting ceremony in dedication to Max, followed by a balloon release, where the children attached notes to biodegradable balloons and watched them ascend on a beautiful spring day.
Though planned for the children, the event was equally important for the adults. Max’s parents, parents of the children in his class, his teachers, and administrators all attended. In the words of his first grade teacher, “Max gave us so much and has made us all better people, and we will always try to carry on his goodness and grace.”
This fall, I gathered with the Scotti family, along with several teachers and the lower school head. We met at “Max’s tree,” and his siblings placed a commemorative plaque at its base. We all cried a bit and laughed a bit. As we walked away, Max’s father, a strapping, 6'6" gentle giant, turned to me and said, “I am still devastated and have not been able to say thanks to so many people. Let me start here and now. We are so grateful to be part of this wonderful school. Thank you.”
Max’s life and death taught all of us at Greenwich Country Day School a great deal. While we hope no school should suffer such a loss, we share this difficult experience in the hope that it might be helpful to others.