I was talking with a local school principal recently about the epidemic of teacher stress, and he explained that schools are no longer just places of education; they have become the front line for solving deep-seated social problems. A staggering number of children are entering Primary One without the most basic foundations. Some aren’t toilet trained. Many have never had a book read to them or learned a simple nursery rhyme. Teachers are seeing significant speech delays and behavioural issues rooted in a simple lack of early-years communication. Those of us who are parents know that managing one or two children is a full-time challenge; imagine being a teacher expected to “parent” twenty-five of them at once while still trying to teach the curriculum.
The principal noted that parents are increasingly turning to schools for advice on things that used to be passed down through family or neighbours, such as sleep hygiene, managing screen time, and navigating basic mental health or bullying. This isn’t what teachers signed up for. They entered the profession to teach, not to serve as surrogate parents and social workers. From a policy perspective, the government views schools as the perfect intervention point. The logic is cold and practical: if the state doesn’t intervene at school, the parents won’t do it at home, and the situation will spiral. We can’t simply say kids shouldn’t be in school until they are ready, because the alternative is often a child left alone in front of a screen, where the developmental rot only accelerates.
The natural reaction, and the one schools are currently demanding, is more budget for mental health workers and support services. It is a completely understandable request. If the government expects schools to provide these social services, then the schools need the financing and support to do it. I completely support the schools and teachers but part of me is deeply concerned by this trajectory. In my experience, when the state colonises a role previously held by the community, it usually does a joyless job of it.
I remember bringing my son to various playgroups around Belfast years ago. The contrast was stark. The Sure Start programmes, the official, government-funded ones, were often officious and cold. The atmosphere was sterile, governed by a petty regulation. Conversely, the playgroups run by local churches were transformed by the spirit of the people there. The volunteers were welcoming, the atmosphere was vibrant, and crucially they had better coffee and home-baked scones. The church groups felt like a neighbourhood; the state groups felt like a waiting room.
We see the same pattern in our overloaded GP surgeries. Doctors tell me that people are presenting with basic life problems that previous generations would never have dreamed of taking to a medical professional. A common example is the “worried new mother” calling the GP for reassurance over every minor hiccup. In the past, that mother would have had a grandmother, an auntie, or a neighbour across the street to lean on. That traditional support structure has fractured. Now, we feel we must consult an ‘expert’ for the natural ebb and flow of human life. I say, in all seriousness, that what every GP surgery needs is not more clinical staff, but a “Community Grandmother.” Someone who brings you in, makes you a cup of tea, and listens politely to your worries. Often, people don’t need a diagnosis; they need a kindly, experienced ear.
But our modern world can’t permit such simplicity. The health and safety culture and the media would have a field day with such a practical solution. Everything must be professionalised. We hire a trained mental health practitioner instead, which further medicalises and pathologises normal human experience. We have created a vicious circle: as community ties weaken, we turn to the state, and as the state takes over, the community’s muscles atrophy further. We need to think about how we re-engage grassroots support. Look at Parkrun. As a run director, I’ve seen how this movement has transformed the health of millions. Its budget is a microscopic fraction of the NHS budget, yet its impact on physical and mental well-being is arguably more effective than many clinical interventions. The same goes for the Couch to 5k app, minimal cost, maximum social return.
In Northern Ireland, we are lucky to have the GAA and various sporting clubs that act as the glue for our society. The challenge is how to seed and promote these efforts without killing them with bureaucracy. When the state gets involved, things become structured, formal, risk-averse, and expensive. Even our existing community groups can be part of the problem. Too many are gatekept by people with links to political parties or have power hungry bosses who think everything in ‘their community’ has to be routed through them. You cannot easily engineer a community from the top down; if the government tried to build something like a Parkrun from scratch, they usually end up with an expensive, bureaucratic mess.
Ultimately, people and communities need to build up their own support networks and have more confidence in their own autonomy, but the issue is that some people interpret these things as a right-wing, “everyone for themselves” approach. This is not where I’m coming from. It’s an argument for interdependence. We are all better off when we have deep friendships, reliable neighbours, and a community structure of support. Loneliness is the silent engine driving our mental health crisis, affecting everyone from primary schoolers to pensioners. It is at the core of almost every issue I have talked about. If we want better long-term results, we have to move upstream. Instead of just funding more services to catch people when they fall, we need to rebuild the social scaffolds that stop them from falling in the first place. We don’t need more experts we need each other.
The cynical will argue it is too late, that we are witnessing a society becoming hopelessly fractured and hyper-individualised. Between the anxiety of AI displacing our livelihoods and the erosion of traditional human connection, it is easy to feel that the situation is beyond repair.
Yet, hopelessness is a choice, not a destiny. We possess far more agency than we realise. It is often said that it is better to light a single candle than to sit and curse the darkness.
While the phrase “be the change” is frequently dismissed as a cliché, its core truth remains. The antidote to isolation starts with us. Whether it is speaking to a neighbour, meeting up with friends in the pub, organising a local event, joining a sports team or walking group, or supporting community arts, these small acts build.
The South African philosophy of Ubuntu – “I am because we are” reminds us that our humanity is inextricably bound up in one another. Simply put, we need each other, and we are only at our best when we are together.
Managing Editor of Slugger O’Toole. I help to manage Slugger by taking care of the site as well as running our live events. My background is in business, marketing and IT. My politics tend towards middle-of-the-road pragmatism; I am not a member of any political party. When not stuck in front of a screen, I am a parkrun Run Director.
Discover more from Slugger O'Toole
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
