Stories In The Dark: Teen Suicide

A few days before I was scheduled to do a show, I got a call from the principal of the elementary school.

Principal - "We're looking forward to your visit."

Me - "Great! I can't wait to be there!"

Principal  - "Oh, there is something you should know. On Monday, we had a tragedy."

Me - "I'm sorry to hear that."

Principal - "Yes, one of our sixth graders at the middle school committed suicide. I know you are seeing them the same day. I thought I would let you know. I don't know more than that, you will have to ask the other principal when you get here."

That stopped me in my tracks. I couldn't for the life of me imagine a sixth grader committing suicide. My brain began to try to find reasons a kid that young would do such a thing.

"Bullying" came to mind at once.

"Problems at home" was my next thought.

I was left sitting with thoughts about this situation.

I went to the school and told to the k - 2 and 3 - 5. We had a great time.

I went to lunch, returned, and met the principal of the middle school. I asked about this student who had taken their life. I did this because lots of my stories for sixth grade are gory, and they are about the challenges of dealing with peer pressure. There are also ghost stories.

I gave the principal a run down of the stories I was planning. I was told not to do the ghost stories, and we decided we'd go with the Greek set.

Then, I got some background on the child. Apparently, this person was well liked, was a fine student, and everyone got along with the child. I also found out that this person had attempted suicide before...in fourth grade.

That also shocked me. What kind of kid tries to commit suicide in fourth grade? Clearly, this was an unusual situation.

Absolutely nobody knew the child was planning to do this. The person was chipper, spoke to everyone as if nothing was going on at all. The parent left the kid home and ran out to pick up pizza for dinner, only to return to find the body.

The parent is distraught, and the shock and grief are apparently being compounded because other parents are trying to figure out what this person "did" or "didn't" do that contributed to the death of their child.

When the sixth graders arrived, I asked what they wanted to hear. Well, they'd been online and they had been watching me tell for a couple of days. They wanted The Monkey's Heart. They also wanted Tongue Twisters. Then, they asked if I would do a scary story.

I looked over and the principal started laughing, "You called it! Go for it!"

Source

So, I told the Boo Hag.

I finished up with Argos of the Thousand Eyes.

Telling during dark times is a thing that every teller has to face.

I was in schools after 9/11. I was in schools in Illinois after the arrest of Jeffery Dahmer. I was in schools after Katrina.

There are a number of things I've learned about going into schools when there is some tragedy or darkness going on internationally, nationally, or communally.

1 - I always speak to the administrators and find out what their comfort level is.

- The comfort level of the children and the grown-ups usually have nothing to do with each other. Still, the grown-ups are paying me so....


2 - I always offer the administrators an array of options for storytelling and bridging pieces so that the material can be used by the classroom teacher or counselors later if need be. I let the administration decide what they think their kids can handle. They know their kids better than I do.

3 - I make sure I'm talking to the kids informally and setting the mood before I get into the telling. I create the space we are going to tell in by the choices I make. That is my job, and I try to make the space where we can find each other and create some community.

I left the school after sharing tales, and everyone had a good time. The principal was pleased, the educators were pleased, and the kids told me, as they often do, that I was the best storyteller in the whole world. (I fully expect they tell every single storyteller they encounter this exact same thing.)

After this telling, I started doing research on teen suicide. I learned a great deal about this subject. I learned so many things that I realized I didn't know much of anything useful or true about this topic.

My assumptions were so erroneous as to be sad. I went to some of the websites that talked about adults and suicide and discovered that some of what they were saying didn't jibe with what I was reading about in children.

So, this is a short list of the reading and information I got in the last couple of weeks that made me rethink what I thought I knew about children and suicide.




Youth Suicide Stats

• Suicide is the SECOND leading cause of death for ages 10-24. (2015 CDC WISQARS)

• Suicide is the SECOND leading cause of death for college-age youth and ages 12-18. (2015 CDC WISQARS)

• More teenagers and young adults die from suicide than from cancer, heart disease, AIDS, birth defects, stroke, pneumonia, influenza, and chronic lung disease, COMBINED.

• Each day in our nation, there are an average of over 5,240 attempts by young people grades 7-12.

Most teens who commit suicide begin thinking about it around the ages of eight or nine. Many have failed attempts before actually committing suicide.

So, my being really shocked at the young person attempting suicide in fourth grade stemmed from my immense ignorance, not because it was out of the ordinary.

Thoughts of Suicide Start Young


Here is the website for the National Suicide Prevention Hotline

Here is the number: 1-800-273-8255  It operates 24 hours a day 7 days a week


Here is the website for The Society for the Prevention of Teen Suicide

Here is a link to a national suicide prevention campaign called You Are Not Alone for teenagers.

There are articles about signs that your teenager might be contemplating suicide.  Here is one that offered seven ideas for parents facing a suicidal child.

And of course, I could not leave this subject without posting some warning signs.

Four out of five teens who attempt suicide give clear warning signs.
Warning Signs of suicidal ideation include, but are not limited, to the following:

• Talking about suicide

• Making statements about feeling hopeless, helpless, or worthless

• A deepening depression

• Preoccupation with death

• Taking unnecessary risks or exhibiting self-destructive behavior

• Out of character behavior

• A loss of interest in the things one cares about

• Visiting or calling people one cares about

• Making arrangements; setting one’s affairs in order

• Giving prized possessions away

Along with these warning signs, there are certain Risk Factors that can elevate the possibility of suicidal ideation.

• Perfectionist personalities

• Gay and Lesbian youth

• Learning disabled youth

• Loners

• Youth with low self- esteem

• Depressed youth

• Students in serious trouble

• Abused, Molested or Neglected Youth

• Genetic predisposition

• Parental history of violence, substance abuse, or divorce

You may be the first and last person to see these signs in a young person.


After reading that list, I was really depressed. Lots of teenagers fall into these categories. It does not mean they are all suicidal. I guess you just have to keep the lines of communication open as best you can and watch for variations in behavior...which, as far as I can tell is par for the course for teenagers.

I would like to reiterate that the child who took their life at the school I visited exhibited no signs at all that anybody noticed.

If you have lost a child, friend, or loved one to suicide, it does not mean that you are at fault or that you did anything to cause it. It does not mean that you could have stopped it if only....

I wasn't sure I was going to write about this at all, but after visiting this school and doing some intense reading I heard about another young person who took their life earlier this week in my community, and a friend of mine has a teenager who is struggling with this demon.

It is common. Far too common, and there is no reason NOT to write about it, share stories, and try to learn all we can.


Stories find you when you need them. I know that is a cheesy thing to say, but sometimes it is true. About a week before all of this broke loose, I got a facebook chat from an artist who I only know virtually. She sent me this link, and right in the middle of it was an inspirational story that had to do with suicide.



Over the last couple of weeks, this video keeps coming back to me. I keep thinking about how stories changed someone's life.

I think about the suicide hotline and what those people do twenty-four hours a day.

I think about all of the teen programs that focus on helping kids overcome suicidal ideation, and there is one thing they have in common...

Every single one of these organizations is working as hard as they can to change the story playing on a loop in the dark. They are trying to reframe the tale. They are trying to turn on the lights and reframe the person as the hero of their own story. The words that I am seeing that these organizations are trying to imbue in the stories of young people sing in my heart, and I wish I could make them part of everyone's story.

You Are Not Replaceable
You Are Loved
You Are Needed
You Are Wanted
You Are Worthwhile
You Are Strong
You Are Beautiful
You Are Amazing

We need your stories. We want to be part of the stories you will write in this world.

We need you to help us dream of the future. You are valuable.

You Are Not Alone

Yours In Story -

All I Have Are Stories...I Know It Is Not Enough - Telling in The Schools of America

I am often unaware of the stories going on around me until they slam into me in such a way that I cannot avoid them.

One lovely spring evening in my early twenties, I was sitting in my apartment in Evanston, Il;  knitting. I used to do that quite a bit. I was listening to a Broadway album, and drinking tea. The phone rang. It was my mother. My parents lived in South Korea at that time.

Mom: (Panicked) Are you okay?

Me: Yes. Why?

Mom: Why?

Me: Yes. Why?

Mom: You aren't caught up in the riots?

Me: The what? What are you talking about?

Mom: The Riots! They are burning everything down! How could you not know about this?

Me: (Laughing) Mom, I have no idea what you are talking about. There are no riots.

Mom: This is about Rodney King!

Me: Who?

Mom: Turn on the news!

Me: I don't even own a television.

(This was before the internet)

Two days later a television arrived in the mail. That turned into a story.....but I don't tell it on stage. 

One lovely fall morning I was sitting at the table with my almost two-year-old daughter. We'd dropped my son off at pre-school, and we were playing language games at the kitchen table. The phone rang.

Aunt Anna Fae: (Panicked) Where is your father?

Me: What?

Aunt Anna Fae: Where is Milton? (my baby brother) Your mom?

Me: I don't know. Why don't you call them?

Aunt Anna Fae: The lines are all down.

Me: Well, I haven't spoken to them in a few...

Aunt Anna Fae: Doesn't your father work in the Pentagon?

Me: Yes, but....

Aunt Anna Fae: (Calmly) The World Trade Centers have come down, and a plane hit the Pentagon.  Where are your father, mother, and brother? Are they safe? Are they alive?

It took my two days to reach my family members. That turned into a story...but I don't tell it on stage.

I have become much more plugged into the world since my children are older. I follow politics, get involved in local events, and I often have an opinion or two about events both national and international. 

Even so, I am not always ready for the moments when what I know from the news intersects with the actual world.

This last Thursday I left my hotel, headed out to a school in Charlotte, and met my PTA contact. I set up in the gym. While I was waiting for the three hundred fifty kindergartners, first and second graders who were going to spend forty-five minutes with me, I asked a standard question about the population.

Me: What can you tell me about your kids?

Principal - We have a very diverse school. Over half of our children have undocumented parents. We also have a high population of refugees. I have some babies who came here from Syria, but I guess we won't have the opportunity to save any more of those precious children. Our school has over twenty-five different languages. Almost none of the students have English as a primary language at home. Most of them will become polyglots just so they can converse with their new friends. They are learning quickly, and most of them are doing really well with English. By fifth grade, they are ready for middle school. You'll see some kids who you might assume are African American, and they are, but all of them are Somalian, most of them just got here. We have only a smattering of children who were born in Charlotte, and they are speaking other languages too in order to make new friends.

I looked out over a sea of little faces. They were laughing, talking to friends, wiggling, just being kids. Every possible shade of human skin was sitting in front of me. Every type of hair, every type of smile, eye, and body shape. 

Me: How are they doing with what's going on in the current administration?

Principal - Not well. The children are so stressed. The teachers are also stressed. Anytime a policeman comes to the school, the children cry and shake. They come to school with their coats even when it this warm because they are afraid they are going to be taken away, and they want to keep some of their things with them. If someone is absent, they are scared that they will never see them again. What is happening now is the worse thing that could be happening to these babies. They are terrified.

The principal thanked me for coming and told me that even though the children might have some trouble with the language, they were going to love it. 

Before I began, an older white lady came into the gym where I was doing the telling. This one group of kindergartners went crazy when they saw her. They waved, started bouncing up and down, and couldn't contain themselves. She came to the front of the room. The entire class got up and swarmed her under with hugs and patting. 

I wondered who she was. Maybe she was the ESL teacher? I went over and asked her.

"I'm just the assistant in the classroom. I love my students and they love me. I've been out for a couple of days. I'm very attached to them, and they are very attached to me."

She looked fierce.

I don't think I've ever started crying before a set. I wanted to hold all of them in my arms. I wanted to say, 

"I am so sorry that we are failing you. I am sorry that we have created a country in which you are not safe. I am sorry that we have created a country in which you are not able to just be children. I am sorry that we have created a country that makes you afraid, turns you away, and marks you as "less than". You are just children. We are failing you."

I don't have anything to give anyone. 

I can't promise them that their families won't be ripped apart. 

I can't promise that they won't be sent back into war.

I can't promise them that they will be able to become part of the story that is America.

I can't promise them that bright future that America is supposed to stand for.

All I have are stories.

For forty-five minutes those children laughed. 

For forty-five minutes nobody in that room was scared.

For forty-five minutes the horrors of the lives they fled were forgotten.

For forty-five minutes there was nothing to do but be children and play with language and be silly.

That's all I have to give.

It isn't enough...but it is all I have.

I've often thought that instead of History it should be called Ourstory. 

To love that fiercely, to share with passion, to hold onto the best of what we can be, to face a child who is afraid and say to them, I will fight for you if you let me...that is what it is to be part of Ourstory. 

That is what it is to teach.

I didn't really know anything about what was happening with the Rodney King incident. It happened all the way across the country and didn't really know anyone involved in it.

I became aware of 9/11, but there was nothing I could do to stop that. I was across the country. it was over before I knew it had happened. 

What about now? What can I say now?

All I have are stories.

I can share them

I can make safe space for a little while

I can help build some community

I can offer comfort for a little while

All I have are stories....Ourstory

Despite how hard some things hit me....they never end up on stage.

I hope you find someplace to share your stories.

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me:
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”

― Emma Lazarus


Tell Fiercely!