The Conversations Schools in Saudi Arabia Cannot Afford to Avoid
The responsibility of schools towards children during uncertain times in Saudi Arabia.
Children need more than “Everything Will Be Okay”
Children are listening. They are watching. They are noticing far more than we sometimes give them credit for.
In Riyadh, where recent events have brought uncertainty, frightening news, changes to school routines and concerns about safety, we need to ask an important question. What are our schools doing to help children understand what is happening around them? And perhaps more importantly, what are they doing to help children feel emotionally safe while the adults around them are trying to make sense of it themselves?
We talk a great deal about school safety. Emergency procedures, evacuation plans, security protocols, communication with parents and decisions about whether children should attend school physically or remotely. All of these are necessary. But there is another part of safety that deserves just as much attention. The emotional safety of the children living through these circumstances.
A child may not understand the politics, the conflict or the reasons behind what is happening. But they understand when their parents are worried. They notice when adults suddenly become quiet, when conversations stop as they enter a room, when school closes unexpectedly or when familiar routines change. Some children are hearing frightening information from friends, older siblings, social media or conversations at home. Others may have heard loud sounds themselves. And some may not have heard anything at all, but can sense that something is different.
Silence does not necessarily protect children from fear. Sometimes it leaves them alone with their imagination.
This does not mean schools should sit young children down and explain every political development or frightening incident. Nor does it mean turning classrooms into places where distressing news is repeatedly discussed. It means recognising that children may already have questions, fears and misunderstandings, and that schools should be prepared to respond to them with honesty, sensitivity and reassurance.
One of the most important things schools must understand is that these conversations need to be age-appropriate. A five-year-old does not need the same explanation as a fifteen-year-old. Younger children need simple words, familiar examples and reassurance about who is looking after them. They do not need frightening details or explanations they are not developmentally ready to understand. Older children and teenagers may have more complicated questions about what is happening, why it is happening and what it could mean for their families. They deserve honest, factual conversations that respect their ability to think, question and form opinions without overwhelming them with information.
And even within the same age group, children will understand and respond differently. We cannot assume that because a conversation has taken place, every child has understood it or feels reassured. Some children will ask questions immediately. Others may come back with the same question tomorrow, or ten times throughout the day. Reassurance is not always a one-time conversation. Sometimes it is the same conversation, repeated with the same patience, until a child feels ready to move on.
The first responsibility of a school is to create an environment where children feel comfortable asking questions. Not every child will walk up to a teacher and say, “I’m scared.” Some will ask whether something bad is going to happen. Some will ask if their parents are safe. Others may become unusually quiet, restless, irritable or reluctant to separate from their families. Some will carry on playing as though nothing has happened. None of these responses should automatically be dismissed or treated as evidence that a child is coping well or badly.
Teachers do not need to have every answer. They do, however, need to be willing to have the conversation.
A teacher might begin by asking, “Has anyone heard something recently that they are wondering about?” or “Is there anything happening around us that you would like to understand better?” With younger children, the conversation can be much simpler. “Have you heard anything that made you feel worried?” These questions should be invitations, not demands. Children who do not wish to participate should not be pressured into speaking, and those who need a private conversation should be offered one.
And when a child asks, “Are we safe?” we need to be careful with our answers.
Telling children that nothing will happen, that there is absolutely nothing to worry about, or that everything is completely safe may sound reassuring, but these are promises adults cannot always make. Children deserve reassurance that is truthful. A teacher can say, “I understand why you’re asking. There are people working to keep us safe, and our school has plans to follow if we need them. My job is to help you and tell you what to do.” We can be honest about uncertainty without passing the weight of that uncertainty onto children.
Being truthful does not mean telling children everything. It means not misleading them about what matters.
Schools also need to think carefully about the activities they offer during these periods. Children do not always process fear through conversation. Some process it through play, movement, drawing, storytelling or simply being close to a trusted adult.
A classroom could begin with a gentle emotional check-in. Children might choose a colour, draw a face or point to a picture that represents how they feel that morning. There is no need for every child to explain their choice. The purpose is not to collect information for another school worksheet. It is to help teachers notice who may need a little more attention and to let children know that their feelings have a place in the classroom.
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Another meaningful activity could be called “What Helps Me Feel Safe?” Children could draw or talk about people, places, routines and small things that bring them comfort. For one child, it may be sitting with their mother. For another, it may be a favourite teacher, a familiar story, a soft toy, a quiet corner or knowing exactly what will happen next. Teachers can then talk about the trusted adults children can approach at school and what they can do when they feel worried.
For older children, schools can create opportunities to separate what they know from what they have heard. A discussion about rumours, frightening videos and information shared online can help them understand that not everything circulating on social media is accurate. Rather than showing disturbing footage or repeatedly discussing possible dangers, teachers can help students identify reliable information, ask questions and recognise when they need to step away from the news.
Children also benefit from understanding what adults are doing to protect them. Safety procedures should not exist only in staff manuals. Students need calm, age-appropriate explanations of what happens if there is an alert, where they should go, whom they should listen to and how they will be supported. These conversations should be practical and rehearsed without unnecessary drama. Knowing what to do can reduce the helplessness that comes from not knowing what is happening.
But we must be equally careful not to turn every school day into another emergency drill. Constant reminders of danger can make the world feel even less predictable. Children need ordinary childhood experiences to continue wherever safely possible. They need to laugh, play, learn, talk to their friends and enjoy activities that have nothing to do with the situation outside. Reassurance is not always a conversation about fear. Sometimes it is the comfort of an ordinary school day.
This becomes particularly important for children with additional needs, including autism, ADHD, sensory processing differences, learning disabilities, communication difficulties and children who already experience heightened anxiety. Unexpected changes, unfamiliar sounds, disrupted routines and uncertainty can be especially overwhelming for some of these children. Their distress may not always look like fear. It may appear as restlessness, withdrawal, emotional outbursts, repetitive questions, refusal to participate or a sudden change in behaviour. Teachers need to recognise that what looks like difficult behaviour may actually be a child struggling to cope with something they cannot fully understand or communicate.
These children may need extra time, simpler explanations, visual support, predictable routines, sensory accommodations and, above all, patient adults around them. A child who asks the same question repeatedly is not necessarily refusing to listen. A child who cannot sit still may not be deliberately disruptive. A child who withdraws may not be uninterested. This is not the time to demand perfect behaviour from children who may already be working incredibly hard just to feel safe.
And patience must be more than something we ask teachers to demonstrate. Schools must make it possible. Teachers need guidance, emotional support, flexibility and access to specialist staff when necessary. They need permission to slow down, to put an academic task aside when a child is visibly distressed, and to recognise that emotional regulation may need to come before learning. For some children, the most meaningful support a teacher can offer that day may be sitting beside them, answering another question or simply allowing them a little more time.
Children do not all need the same conversation, the same reassurance or the same amount of time. But every child deserves an adult who is willing to understand what they need.
There is also the question of how schools communicate with families. A message announcing that classes will move online or that certain precautions are being taken may address the logistics, but what about the child’s emotional experience? Are schools providing parents with simple guidance on how to speak to their children? Are teachers checking in with students during remote learning, beyond attendance and assignments? Are school counsellors available to children who are struggling? Is there a clear process for identifying students who may need additional support?
Distance learning may help address immediate physical safety concerns, but it should not mean that emotional connection disappears. A child joining an online classroom is still a child who may be frightened, confused or missing the familiarity of school. A few minutes of genuine human connection may matter more on some days than completing another academic task.
We must also remember that Riyadh’s classrooms are filled with children from different countries, backgrounds and family circumstances. Some may have relatives living in areas affected by conflict. Some may have experienced displacement, violence or frightening events before. Some may have parents whose work places them closer to emergency situations. Others may have no direct experience of conflict but are frightened by what they see and hear. Schools cannot assume that every child is experiencing the same situation in the same way.
This is why teachers need support too. We cannot expect educators to provide emotional reassurance if they themselves have received no guidance about what to say, what not to say, how to recognise distress or when to refer a child for additional help. Schools should be having these conversations with their staff, preparing age-appropriate responses and ensuring that teachers are not left to manage difficult questions entirely on their own.
And there is something else we need to acknowledge. Children do not need adults to perform calmness while dismissing their fears. They need adults who can remain steady enough to listen. A child who says, “I’m scared,” does not need to hear, “Don’t be silly, nothing is going to happen.” They need to hear, “I can see that this is worrying you. Would you like to tell me what you’ve heard?” There is a significant difference between shutting down a feeling and helping a child through it.
The responsibility of educational institutions to protect children extends beyond physical safety. Their emotional wellbeing, dignity and right to feel supported must also be part of how schools respond during difficult circumstances. This should not simply depend on the kindness of an individual teacher or the initiative of a concerned parent. It needs to be part of the school’s approach to child protection and wellbeing.
And that responsibility cannot begin and end with sending instructions to parents or ensuring students complete their lessons.
Schools have a unique place in children’s lives. For many children, their teacher is one of the most familiar and trusted adults outside the home. The classroom is where they spend much of their day, form relationships, learn about the world and begin to understand their place in it. During uncertain times, that relationship becomes even more important.
We cannot remove every frightening event from a child’s world. We cannot guarantee that children will never hear troubling news, ask difficult questions or feel afraid. But we can decide how we respond when they do.
We can make room for their questions without overwhelming them with information. We can acknowledge their fears without feeding them. We can prepare them without frightening them. We can protect their routines, their relationships, their right to play and their need to feel connected to the adults responsible for them.
Because protecting children is not only about knowing what to do when an alarm sounds. It is also about knowing what to do with the child who remains frightened long after the alarm has stopped.
And perhaps this is the question every school in Riyadh should be asking itself right now:
Are we only preparing our buildings and procedures for what might happen, or are we also preparing our teachers to care for the children who are living through it?
