In the novel I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter by Erika Sanchez, the teenage protagonist, Julia, faces a mental health crisis. Coming of age in modern-day Chicago, Julia, the daughter of undocumented immigrants, also grapples with poverty, racism, and normal teenage problems. She is also like many of the students I teach at my high school, which is why I teach it every year.
At one point in the book, Julia harms herself. When we approach this moment in my class I warn my students and give them space to read at their own pace. I also provide the option to skip the section or engage in an alternative activity. Some students read alone, others in pairs, some read outside in the sun. Afterwards, we reflect. We refrain from judgment and instead discuss the context that led to the moment. We review best practices if something like this ever happened to a loved one. What do we say? Who do we tell? Students’ most overwhelming reaction, in the end, is gratitude. They start to share their own battles with anxiety or depression. And then they all reflect on how these topics are rarely talked about in schools.
But then the unit ends. We normally move on to the next book, or next topic, or next subject. As is common, we spend time discussing a problem but take little action to address it. What if we started from a place that was user-centered and problem specific? What if we could actually do something for Julia? Or, at the very least for someone like her? Last year, in my class, we chose to find out. We attempted to address the teenage mental health crisis — while studying the skills and content of an English and 11th grade U.S. History course along the way.
But before we could even begin, I had to evaluate the systematic issues present in our youth mental health system, and dream up a project that might address it. Most importantly, I had to consider who I could collaborate with to make it all happen.
Finding a Single Thread
Before the school year began, my student teacher, Dr. Jennifer Wilson, and I decided we wanted students to build something physical that might address mental health. After a year spent learning on computers we felt the way to activate students’ minds, and support their hearts, was by starting with their hands.
I met Dr. Wilson at her son’s little league game, and we brainstormed under the shade of a large eucalyptus tree. Between the clangs of the metal bat and cheers from the stands, we discussed our audience. Who exactly did we want to make something for? I had a connection to the local adolescent psychiatric hospital and they were open to a partnership, but what kind of product might be meaningful to them?
At one point Dr. Wilson mentioned the role sewing played in her life–a skill gifted from her mother, that she now used as a form of self-care and recreation. And like that, we had it.
Our students would learn to sew! We would make bags for the adolescent psychiatric ward and fill these “totes of hopes” with “notes of hope.” The bags would serve as a kind reminder for anyone going through a hard time that they were not alone. We shared the idea with psychiatrists at the hospital to gain their perspective, and they agreed about its potential impact.
But before we put needle to thread we wanted to make sure that the mental health system and sewing were authentically linked so our students could engage with a cohesive curriculum. We wanted the tote bags to feel like the heart of the project in a practical sense, but also an academic one. As Dr. Wilson and I began to brainstorm content, we soon realized the connections between sewing and mental health were as long as a spool of thread.
We first shared with our students that the act of sewing itself is an opportunity to practice mindfulness and reach a state of flow. Research shows that mindfulness activities can reduce students’ stress and negative emotions. At a time when the whole education world was discussing learning loss and the need for accelerated learning, we wanted our students to slow down. If we were going to study mental health, we needed to practice it as well.
We also recognized that sewing has traditionally been labeled as a gendered activity, and our project opened the door for potentially problematic assumptions about who sews and who doesn’t. As a class, we examined traditional images of women sewing and discussed the men in modern society who broke down these stereotypes. Soon, our male students became some of our most excited sewists. Many of them had prior experience as well, and we made sure to put them in leadership roles from the start. A lot of high school anxiety comes from feeling you can’t be yourself. We intentionally tried to create a space where you could be whoever you wanted.
And as we went deeper into the subject, we realized the way thread is used today is tied up in unfair labor practices and environmental malpractice. So students discussed the Chinese Garment Workers strike of 1982 and Greta Thunberg’s argument against fast fashion. We studied the history of cotton, and how its early production in the United States was inextricably tied to chattel slavery and the oppression of African Americans.
These issues and others impact our students’ mental health from a macro level. Students read how gun and immigration policies could all impact a person’s mental health–and how it could be changed.
We realized the meat of the project was students giving something authentic to someone else. But at the same time, we didn’t want students to walk away believing mental health problems could be solved with something as simple as a bag. So students wrote letters to the fashion industry demanding them to change their practices. Students spoke on panels about how schools needed systematic change in order to improve their mental health services.
As students grappled with the macro issues at play, their sewing took on new meaning to them. They really began to understand the importance of gifting a bag, but also its limits in addressing the whole issue. They also learned that solving large problems –much like sewing – takes time and continuous improvement.
Making Each Week Better
The project excited me, but it also scared me. What if the topic of mental health bored students? Or offended a parent? How would we read a book and sew simultaneously? To succeed I knew I would need to give myself lots of grace. The project didn’t need to be perfect the first day, but I would need to commit to making it better each week.
And there were plenty of opportunities to get better. I surveyed my students many times about their skill level with sewing and about their own well being. I also surveyed students to learn how much voice they felt they had in the classroom. Adapted from a survey by the educational research organization PERTS, the results provided me with data on how much ownership students felt in the classroom. The data helped as I attempted to co-create the project with students. After lessons, I would also conduct empathy interviews and focus groups with students, seeking their opinion on what went well and what could be improved. Using the data, I would then identify strategies for improvement.
The students and I found a problem with our process early on. At the beginning of sewing lessons, we would have 12 machines plugged in at once. The room was a cacophony of whirring and snipping. At the end of these sessions I learned that many students didn’t get much time at the machines, and felt like their sewing skills weren’t progressing. Not only were we not on track to achieve our goal of gifting tote bags to the hospital, but my students were feeling stressed – far from the mindful vibe we were attempting to create. From this feedback, Dr. Wilson and I implemented a change idea to improve the lack of sewing time students received and moved to a small group format. While some students sewed, the other students read our class novel about mental health. From this shift, students’ sewing times increased and engagement improved.
Where’s the Emergency Red Backpack for Mental Health?
In October 2021, the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP), the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry (AACAP), and the Children’s Hospital Association (CHA) declared a National State of Emergency in Children’s Mental Health. But my students didn’t need these statistics in order to become immediately engaged. They shared second-hand stories about family members or friends who had faced similar struggles. Some students even bravely opened up about their own challenges.
One of the rules for field trips at my school is to bring a red backpack full of first aid materials: band-aids, gauze, water, masks, gloves, and more. But there’s nothing inside this bag to support students with psychiatric emergencies. Twice in my career, I’ve had students experience panic attacks on a field trip. In these circumstances, it usually comes down to adults, and in some cases student’s peers, who can talk the student through their anxiety. The red backpack is just one example of how schools were structured to attend to students’ physical health. Meanwhile, we’re still trying to catch up to support students’ mental health.
Although our project didn’t solve the entire issue, I admired how my students were excited to scale our work. After the project was completed, myself and two of my students were invited to present our project at several conferences focused on continuous improvement and project based learning. We shared many of the approaches discussed in this article.
The students spoke of the importance of understanding an issue before trying to address it. They talked about partnering with others, such as the children’s hospital, in order to focus efforts. They even laughed, reminiscing about the sewing mistakes along the way.
I explained how using data helped me better understand my student’s progress, and plan next steps. I also explained how important it was to normalize mistakes, study them, and grow from them.
I also spoke with other teachers about giving yourself grace–something my students I asked practiced throughout this project. Accepting grace for oneself didn’t just aid us when machines broke or seams ripped, but any time our personal lives got hard. It was a reminder that being kind to yourself during challenging times was critical to getting through them. In a project about mental health, no lesson was more important.
In the novel I Am Not Your Perfect Mexican Daughter by Erika Sanchez, the teenage protagonist, Julia, faces a mental health crisis. Coming of age in modern-day Chicago, Julia, the daughter of undocumented immigrants, also grapples with poverty, racism, and normal teenage problems. She is also like many of the students I teach at my high school, which is why I teach it every year.
At one point in the book, Julia harms herself. When we approach this moment in my class I warn my students and give them space to read at their own pace. I also provide the option to skip the section or engage in an alternative activity. Some students read alone, others in pairs, some read outside in the sun. Afterwards, we reflect. We refrain from judgment and instead discuss the context that led to the moment. We review best practices if something like this ever happened to a loved one. What do we say? Who do we tell? Students’ most overwhelming reaction, in the end, is gratitude. They start to share their own battles with anxiety or depression. And then they all reflect on how these topics are rarely talked about in schools.
But then the unit ends. We normally move on to the next book, or next topic, or next subject. As is common, we spend time discussing a problem but take little action to address it. What if we started from a place that was user-centered and problem specific? What if we could actually do something for Julia? Or, at the very least for someone like her? Last year, in my class, we chose to find out. We attempted to address the teenage mental health crisis — while studying the skills and content of an English and 11th grade U.S. History course along the way.
But before we could even begin, I had to evaluate the systematic issues present in our youth mental health system, and dream up a project that might address it. Most importantly, I had to consider who I could collaborate with to make it all happen.
Finding a Single Thread
Before the school year began, my student teacher, Dr. Jennifer Wilson, and I decided we wanted students to build something physical that might address mental health. After a year spent learning on computers we felt the way to activate students’ minds, and support their hearts, was by starting with their hands.
I met Dr. Wilson at her son’s little league game, and we brainstormed under the shade of a large eucalyptus tree. Between the clangs of the metal bat and cheers from the stands, we discussed our audience. Who exactly did we want to make something for? I had a connection to the local adolescent psychiatric hospital and they were open to a partnership, but what kind of product might be meaningful to them?
At one point Dr. Wilson mentioned the role sewing played in her life–a skill gifted from her mother, that she now used as a form of self-care and recreation. And like that, we had it.
Our students would learn to sew! We would make bags for the adolescent psychiatric ward and fill these “totes of hopes” with “notes of hope.” The bags would serve as a kind reminder for anyone going through a hard time that they were not alone. We shared the idea with psychiatrists at the hospital to gain their perspective, and they agreed about its potential impact.
But before we put needle to thread we wanted to make sure that the mental health system and sewing were authentically linked so our students could engage with a cohesive curriculum. We wanted the tote bags to feel like the heart of the project in a practical sense, but also an academic one. As Dr. Wilson and I began to brainstorm content, we soon realized the connections between sewing and mental health were as long as a spool of thread.
We first shared with our students that the act of sewing itself is an opportunity to practice mindfulness and reach a state of flow. Research shows that mindfulness activities can reduce students’ stress and negative emotions. At a time when the whole education world was discussing learning loss and the need for accelerated learning, we wanted our students to slow down. If we were going to study mental health, we needed to practice it as well.
We also recognized that sewing has traditionally been labeled as a gendered activity, and our project opened the door for potentially problematic assumptions about who sews and who doesn’t. As a class, we examined traditional images of women sewing and discussed the men in modern society who broke down these stereotypes. Soon, our male students became some of our most excited sewists. Many of them had prior experience as well, and we made sure to put them in leadership roles from the start. A lot of high school anxiety comes from feeling you can’t be yourself. We intentionally tried to create a space where you could be whoever you wanted.
And as we went deeper into the subject, we realized the way thread is used today is tied up in unfair labor practices and environmental malpractice. So students discussed the Chinese Garment Workers strike of 1982 and Greta Thunberg’s argument against fast fashion. We studied the history of cotton, and how its early production in the United States was inextricably tied to chattel slavery and the oppression of African Americans.
These issues and others impact our students’ mental health from a macro level. Students read how gun and immigration policies could all impact a person’s mental health–and how it could be changed.
We realized the meat of the project was students giving something authentic to someone else. But at the same time, we didn’t want students to walk away believing mental health problems could be solved with something as simple as a bag. So students wrote letters to the fashion industry demanding them to change their practices. Students spoke on panels about how schools needed systematic change in order to improve their mental health services.
As students grappled with the macro issues at play, their sewing took on new meaning to them. They really began to understand the importance of gifting a bag, but also its limits in addressing the whole issue. They also learned that solving large problems –much like sewing – takes time and continuous improvement.
Making Each Week Better
The project excited me, but it also scared me. What if the topic of mental health bored students? Or offended a parent? How would we read a book and sew simultaneously? To succeed I knew I would need to give myself lots of grace. The project didn’t need to be perfect the first day, but I would need to commit to making it better each week.
And there were plenty of opportunities to get better. I surveyed my students many times about their skill level with sewing and about their own well being. I also surveyed students to learn how much voice they felt they had in the classroom. Adapted from a survey by the educational research organization PERTS, the results provided me with data on how much ownership students felt in the classroom. The data helped as I attempted to co-create the project with students. After lessons, I would also conduct empathy interviews and focus groups with students, seeking their opinion on what went well and what could be improved. Using the data, I would then identify strategies for improvement.
The students and I found a problem with our process early on. At the beginning of sewing lessons, we would have 12 machines plugged in at once. The room was a cacophony of whirring and snipping. At the end of these sessions I learned that many students didn’t get much time at the machines, and felt like their sewing skills weren’t progressing. Not only were we not on track to achieve our goal of gifting tote bags to the hospital, but my students were feeling stressed – far from the mindful vibe we were attempting to create. From this feedback, Dr. Wilson and I implemented a change idea to improve the lack of sewing time students received and moved to a small group format. While some students sewed, the other students read our class novel about mental health. From this shift, students’ sewing times increased and engagement improved.
Where’s the Emergency Red Backpack for Mental Health?
In October 2021, the American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP), the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry (AACAP), and the Children’s Hospital Association (CHA) declared a National State of Emergency in Children’s Mental Health. But my students didn’t need these statistics in order to become immediately engaged. They shared second-hand stories about family members or friends who had faced similar struggles. Some students even bravely opened up about their own challenges.
One of the rules for field trips at my school is to bring a red backpack full of first aid materials: band-aids, gauze, water, masks, gloves, and more. But there’s nothing inside this bag to support students with psychiatric emergencies. Twice in my career, I’ve had students experience panic attacks on a field trip. In these circumstances, it usually comes down to adults, and in some cases student’s peers, who can talk the student through their anxiety. The red backpack is just one example of how schools were structured to attend to students’ physical health. Meanwhile, we’re still trying to catch up to support students’ mental health.
Although our project didn’t solve the entire issue, I admired how my students were excited to scale our work. After the project was completed, myself and two of my students were invited to present our project at several conferences focused on continuous improvement and project based learning. We shared many of the approaches discussed in this article.
The students spoke of the importance of understanding an issue before trying to address it. They talked about partnering with others, such as the children’s hospital, in order to focus efforts. They even laughed, reminiscing about the sewing mistakes along the way.
I explained how using data helped me better understand my student’s progress, and plan next steps. I also explained how important it was to normalize mistakes, study them, and grow from them.
I also spoke with other teachers about giving yourself grace–something my students I asked practiced throughout this project. Accepting grace for oneself didn’t just aid us when machines broke or seams ripped, but any time our personal lives got hard. It was a reminder that being kind to yourself during challenging times was critical to getting through them. In a project about mental health, no lesson was more important.
