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Pandemic
Have We All Forgotten How to Socialize?
My family is really out of practice.
Written by Andrea Wells
Feb. 23, 2022
Image Source: dowell/Moment/Getty Images
When the doorbell rang, my partner gave me a startled look and whispered, “I don’t remember how to answer the door.” We were hosting friends for dinner for the first time in two years, and as we awkwardly greeted our guests, it became evident that we were out of touch with social interactions. If I, an adult with years of life experience, am feeling anxious about socializing in this post-pandemic world, how are my children coping?
For two years, I was so focused on managing COVID safety protocols and virtual schooling that I failed to recognize the more subtle social effects on my kids. Gradually, I noticed that, influenced by COVID—along with increased access to technology, social media, and altered family dynamics—my kids’ social habits have changed significantly compared to the pre-pandemic era.
While they enjoy being in school and interacting with peers there, they seem less enthusiastic about making plans outside that setting. My middle schoolers appear uncertain about how to initiate get-togethers with friends. It’s as if they missed the lesson on socializing, but in reality, everyone has been absent from that lesson.
Realizing we had all lost our social skills was a bit alarming. I initially calmed myself down by reminding myself that I hadn’t failed as a parent—we were simply dealing with the bizarre consequences of the pandemic. Moving forward, I focused on how to help my kids regain the social skills necessary for enjoyable interactions with friends (on their terms, not mine).
Remove Judgment and Assumptions
My kids can have just as much fun hanging out with their friends online, whether through FaceTime or gaming on XBox. Initially, I found it disheartening that they view these experiences as comparable. However, when I stepped back and removed my judgment, I felt grateful they have various ways to connect with friends that resonate with them. I previously had a hierarchy that placed in-person interactions above online ones, but I’ve had to reconsider this perspective as their realities differ from what I expected.
Call Them Hangouts, Not Playdates
Recently, when discussing plans with my tween, I asked if he wanted me to arrange a playdate for him. He looked at me in disbelief and said, “Please don’t call it a playdate. It makes me sound like a little kid.” When I shared this with his older brother, he responded with shock, saying, “Mom, it’s ‘hangout,’ not playdate! Playdate is so embarrassing.”
This moment made me realize that my choice of words reflected a larger issue: I was still treating him like he was in 4th grade (when the pandemic began) instead of recognizing him as a more mature 6th grader. Language is crucial when it comes to helping our children feel acknowledged and understood.
Walk Before We Run
During the pandemic, I spoke with my friend Dr. Sara Thompson, a psychologist at a local hospital. We discussed how to guide children back to some form of “normal,” and Dr. Thompson suggested that since kids have been out of practice in various ways—emotionally, academically, socially, and physically—they need a gradual reintroduction to normalcy. As she put it, before they can run a mile, they might need to start by walking it.
Before they can tackle grade-level math again, they need to revisit the basics. Similarly, before jumping back into socializing, they might benefit from smaller, more manageable interactions. Instead of diving straight into sleepovers and weekend trips, consider starting with a quick outing for hot chocolate or a game of catch in the park. We need to recalibrate our expectations regarding what feels comfortable for our kids rather than imposing where we think they should be.
Get Curious About Their Challenges
When I worry about my kids’ social lives, my instinct is often to project my own experiences or those of their siblings onto the situation. I strive to resist this urge and allow my children to navigate their own adolescent journeys. I focus on being curious about their perspectives and aspirations.
For example, instead of asking my 11-year-old, “Why don’t you want to hang out this weekend?” I could say, “I’ve noticed you seem uninterested in hanging out with friends outside of school. What’s going on?” If my child expresses a desire to make plans but struggles to move forward, I might ask, “It seems like it’s hard to finalize a plan. Would you like some help or advice?”
Ultimately, my primary goal in guiding my family’s social reintegration is to understand that there isn’t a universal approach—each of my kids has unique aspirations and paths to reach them. My role is to show patience with their starting points and remain curious about their experiences.
Likewise, I’m applying this approach to manage my own discomfort with socializing again. I’m taking the time to notice my reactions: Is my heart racing before I go out? Am I uncertain about what to wear because nothing feels right? Am I engaging with others out of obligation instead of desire? Does staying home feel more comfortable? I have similar goals for myself as I do for my kids: take small steps, give myself a gradual path, be patient, and avoid judging how others navigate their social lives. And perhaps one day, my partner will remember how to answer the door.
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