With more children experiencing the death of a parent, sibling, or other close person—whether due to illness, violence, overdose, suicide, or other causes—teachers are increasingly on the front lines of supporting grieving students. You may not have signed up for this part of the job, but your role in a child’s healing can be powerful.
The good news is: you don’t have to be a therapist to be a meaningful support. You just need a little awareness, a bit of intention, and the willingness to show up with care.
1. Start by learning who’s grieving.
Grief doesn’t always look how we expect. Some kids act out, others shut down. Some become model students, trying to control what they can. You likely won’t just sense who’s grieving. That’s why it’s helpful to connect with school counselors or administrators early in the year and ask: “Are there any students in my classroom who’ve had a recent loss?” Knowing ahead of time helps you offer care from day one, without relying on assumptions.
2. Reach out to the caregiver.
If you do have a grieving student, a short call or email to their caregiver can make a huge difference. You might ask:
“I know this has been a tough time. Is there anything you’d like me to know about how your child is doing, or what’s been helpful for them lately?”
This simple check-in opens a channel of trust and reminds caregivers they’re not navigating this alone.
3. Acknowledge the loss — quietly, kindly.
Don’t underestimate the impact of naming the loss. A grieving student might go through the entire school day without anyone acknowledging what they’re carrying. A quiet moment can be deeply grounding. You could say something like:
“Hey Jordan, I heard about your dad. I just wanted you to know I’m here if you would like to talk about how you’re feeling or tell me about him.”
Always do this privately. Most students don’t want to be seen as “the kid whose parent died,” and public attention can feel alienating, not supportive.
3. You don’t need the perfect words.
There’s no magic sentence that makes grief feel better. And trying to say the right thing often leads to saying something that accidentally hurts. Instead of trying to fix it or relate it to your own experience, you can say:
“I’m really glad you told me.”
“I’m here for you if you ever want to talk.”
“That sounds really hard.”
Simple is best. And silence is okay too.
4. Let them lead, and be flexible.
Grief doesn’t follow a timeline, and every kid grieves differently. Some will want to talk a lot. Some won’t bring it up at all. Let your student set the pace. One day they might want to participate like nothing’s wrong. The next day, they might be overwhelmed. Offer consistency without forcing conversation. A gentle check-in might sound like:
“You’ve seemed a little quieter than usual. Totally okay, I just wanted to let you know I’m here if you would like to share how you’re feeling.”
5. Build in small breaks and choices
Grieving kids can benefit from knowing they have permission to step away when needed. You might offer options like visiting the school counselor, taking five minutes to sit in the hallway or a designated calm corner, or drawing or journaling quietly instead of joining a group activity. These “release valves” can be lifesavers when big feelings hit during class.
6. Remember, you’re not alone either.
Teachers carry a lot. You’re supporting dozens of students, juggling demands, and often doing emotional labor no one sees. Supporting a grieving child can bring up your own feelings too—especially if you’ve experienced loss. So make sure you have outlets and support systems in place.
Talk with a trusted colleague, debrief with your counselor or principal, and take care of yourself in whatever ways refill your tank. You are not expected to do this perfectly. But your presence, your steadiness, and your willingness to care? Those can be life-changing for a student who’s grieving.
Brie Overton, PhD, FT, LPC-S, NCC, is the Chief Clinical Officer at Experience Camps, a nonprofit that runs free, transformative grief camps for kids who’ve lost a parent, sibling, or primary caregiver. She’s a licensed counselor specializing in grief, anticipatory loss, and life transitions, and serves on the boards of the Association for Death Education and Counseling and the National Alliance for Children’s Grief.
