Why Kids Have Awkward Social Interactions When They Care About Privacy (And What Works)
The entryway of the laser tag arena smelled like old pizza and artificial cherry slush when the birthday mom herded all 12 seventh graders toward her to exchange Snapchats. My 12-year-old Mia froze immediately. She stuffed her phone deeper into the pocket of her oversized hoodie, stepped back so her shoulder pressed against my back, and wouldn’t make eye contact with anyone. The birthday mom laughed, wiped pizza grease off her jeans, and said “No worries, some kids are just shy!” The room went quiet for two beats before everyone drifted off toward the snack table, and I could feel Mia’s face burning against my back. On the drive home, she stared out the window picking at a loose thread on her jeans, and didn’t say a word until we pulled into our driveway.
I expected her to say she was embarrassed about being shy. Instead, she blurted out that it wasn’t shyness at all. “I don’t even know half those kids,” she said, leaning against the kitchen counter while I got her lemonade out of the fridge. “Why would I let them see all my dumb cat videos and the rants I post only for my cousin? What if they screenshot something and send it around the whole grade?” She went on to tell me about a girl in sixth grade who had her private draft TikTok videos leaked the year before—everyone made fun of her off-key singing, and she ended up switching schools. A week before the birthday party, she said, her science teacher had made her open her private text messages to check if she was passing notes during a quiz, and it felt just like someone opening my diary and reading it out loud.
I’d never thought of it that way before. I used to be the parent who nudged Mia to “just add her, it’s just social media” when other kids asked. I’d bought into the narrative that she was just awkward or a little anti-social, that she needed to push herself to be more outgoing. But after that conversation in the kitchen, I started noticing how many of her “weird” social interactions were really just her protecting her privacy. Her homeroom teacher mentioned she was “disengaged” from class because she always claimed her phone was dead when asked to join the class Instagram icebreaker chat. Relatives commented that she was rude because she’d turn off her camera during big family Zoom calls. Other kids called her stuck up because she doesn’t accept their follow requests. None of that fits what I know of Mia—she loves having her best friend over to bake cookies and go on walks, she just doesn’t want every person she’s ever sat next to in homeroom having access to her personal stuff.
The first small thing we tried that worked was coming up with a short, polite script she can use when she gets put on the spot. We didn’t want it to be confrontational, so we landed on: “I actually keep my socials just for family right now, but I’ll see you at school!” It’s short, it doesn’t require her to explain herself or overshare her boundaries, and it almost always ends the conversation right there. She’s used it three times now, and no one’s pressed her for more after it.
Next, I talked to her homeroom teacher about what was going on, and we worked out a small, easy adjustment for class. Instead of requiring kids to share personal cell numbers or social media accounts for group projects, the teacher now sets up a temporary group on the school’s learning platform that gets deleted when the semester ends. For kids who need to communicate outside of that, we set up a free Google Voice number for Mia that she can give out for school use only, so she never has to share her personal cell with people she doesn’t know well. It took 10 minutes to set up, cost nothing, and it took a huge amount of pressure off her.
The last change I made was for myself: I stopped pushing her to connect with people before she’s ready. I used to say things like “The new neighbor’s kid is your age, why don’t you add her on Instagram?” and I never realized that put her in a no-win situation—she either has to say no and look rude, or give up access to the space she uses for herself. Now I just stay out of it. If kids want to exchange info, they’ll do it on their own time when they feel comfortable.
Last week, a new girl joined Mia’s science class, and she asked for Mia’s Snapchat after class. Mia used her script, and the new girl just grinned and said “Ugh, same, I only add my old friends from my old school, it’s so annoying when people ask.” They ended up sitting together at lunch that day, and they’ve been hanging out after school twice now, no social media exchanged yet, and that’s fine. It works for them.
There are still awkward moments, of course. Last Thanksgiving, my aunt asked Mia why she never accepts her friend request on Facebook, and Mia just got up and went to the other room instead of answering, which made my aunt think she was being bratty. I explained it to her later, and she still didn’t really get it, said “It’s just Facebook, what does she have to hide?” Some people don’t get it, and that’s okay. We’re not here to convince every person that Mia’s boundaries make sense. We’re just here to give her the tools to handle the weird interactions that pop up, and to make sure she knows her need for privacy is okay, not rude, not weird. It’s still a work in progress, some weeks are smoother than others. But so far, it’s working a lot better than when we just told her to be more outgoing.
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