By: Lisa Marshall
At the peak of the pandemic in 2021, teenagers from Sackets Harbor, New York, got certified as ambulance drivers and took over running the local emergency medical service when the usual, much older, volunteers had to step away due to COVID-19 concerns.
In Los Angeles, youth with the nonprofit Teen Line fielded texts and calls around-the-clock from peers struggling with mental health issues amid isolating school lockdowns.
Elsewhere, kids as young as 5 years old assembled care packages for community members in need, while teens fired up their schools’ 3D printers to churn out face coverings for essential workers.
“It is true that the pandemic was a very difficult time for many young people. But there is also a quieter, equally important story that needs to be told,” said sociologist Lori Peek, director of the Natural Hazards Center at CU Boulder. “For some young people, it was also an awakening—a realization that they had the capacity to do something in the face of a crisis.”
In a new paper, published in the Journal of Hazard Literacy, Peek and her colleagues tell that story, analyzing more than 115 pandemic-era news articles to offer a fresh take on what some have referred to as the COVID generation.
Having grown up in the shadow of a global pandemic, with increased threats of natural disasters and mass shootings, today’s kids and young adults have often been framed as victims. But through her latest research, Peek who has spent her career studying how disasters impact children and youth—illustrates the oft-overlooked strengths they bring to bear in times of crisis.
They can relate to young people in ways that adults can’t. They are fluent in digital technologies. And they often have more available energy and free time than busy adults can muster, she said. They’re also, as the paper concludes, more “disaster literate,” meaning they can identify who needs help and come up with creative solutions.
“With the rise in the number of disasters globally, we are growing a more disaster-literate generation,” said Peek. “The question now is, how do we harness what these young people have to offer?”
‘Disasters are not equal opportunity events’
“Ring” by 17-year-old Shashank Salgam. “Me and my peers were hit hard by the isolation of quarantine, but we’re rebounding with a resolve to connect beyond boundaries,” wrote the young artist in the caption of his painting.
For the study, Peek worked with Zoe Lefkowitz and Melissa Villarreal, both research assistants at the Natural Hazards Center and doctoral candidates in the sociology department, to develop a database of pandemic-related news articles from 2020 to 2023.
Most of the thousands of articles they found focused on kids’ vulnerabilities and what adults were doing to help them. They then conducted a qualitative analysis of 115 stories that included children’s voices, analyzing and coding them.
They found eight distinct ways kids behaved altruistically.
They ranged from making or collecting and distributing supplies, money and food, to creating art and offering emotional support for peers, to participating in vaccine research.
Peek noted that the children featured in the stories tended to, almost instinctively, recognize that some groups—like the elderly, people with disabilities, the unhoused and lower-income families—were hit harder than others.
“Disasters are not equal opportunity events, and kids realize this,” said Peek.
Lefkowitz was particularly moved by the story of 10-year-old Kaylan Park, who stood at a podium before a booing crowd at a school board meeting near Akron, Ohio, to support extending the district’s mask mandate after the omicron variant emerged.
“My teacher tells me when you do something for other people, they can do it back,” Park told the school board that day, wearing a mask reading “masks save lives.” “You’re showing kindness.”
Lefkowitz also pointed to other “micro” acts of altruism. Around the country, children painted rocks with messages like, “The best is yet to come,” and “This will pass,” and placed them along sidewalks around their neighborhood. Another put on a “mini prom” for his babysitter to help her celebrate the milestone she missed during school lockdowns.
Lasting impacts
It’s unclear how these experiences are shaping children’s lives today, but research on adults offers clues.
One study looked at adults who volunteered to help after the 9/11 attacks in New York City. Years later, they reported that the experience had helped them heal from their own trauma and made them feel more connected to their community and empowered to create change.
“I would like to think that these children in our study understand the impact they made and that it changed their opinion of themselves,” said Lefkowitz. “I also hope they will remember the empathy they felt and, as they grow older, that will encourage them to address other inequalities that they see.”
Peek cautioned that she does not intend to “romanticize” the pandemic. It had real, negative impacts on children, their families, their schools and their communities. Oftentimes, kids had to step up because the institutions created by adults failed them.
But, if we overlook their agency, she said, we might undermine an opportunity to build a more resilient generation that is ready for the next disaster. She advises policymakers to create and support youth advisory boards to give young people a voice on pressing community issues and crises.
For parents who may be uncertain how to talk to their children about an ongoing disaster, she offered this advice: Ask them what they would like to do to help.
