The rituals that mark the end of high school have multiplied since I was a senior.

Granted, I graduated in an era so long ago that we had to call our friends on a phone attached to a wall and deal with a busy signal if the line was engaged.

Those were primitive times. It makes sense that students who can take professional-quality photos and shoot videos from phones in their pockets have more events to document.

Our daughter had the misfortune of graduating from high school during the height of the global pandemic two years ago. Her commencement was in the parking lot of a dead mall. There were few senior traditions because most of us were just trying to stay alive.

But this year, for our son's graduation, all the pomp-and-circumstance is back. By the end of the month, his school and the parent organization will have hosted: a Senior Sunset, where the class gathers on the football field on the last day of school to watch the sun go down (a bookend to the Senior Sunrise they had on the first day); a class photo; a senior field trip; a last-day senior picnic; an honors night; the prom; a senior parade and an after-graduation party.

Back in the landline days, we had a senior skip day and a senior prank, both unsanctioned. My former classmates reminded me that our prank involved dumping buckets of water off the roof of the school onto the administrators during our senior picture. The principal was not pleased.

Allegedly, class pranks were outlawed after a student hired a stripper one year.

Gen X was built differently.

I can't imagine my kids, part of do-gooder Gen Z, involved in anything like that. Their school's Instagram feed is filled with student testimonials about their favorite teachers. I have to admit that teachers also seem to have more compassion and patience these days.

I had a chance to think about all the educators who have taught our kids when I showed up for the best senior tradition, which was also new to me: the elementary school walk-through. The seniors put on their caps and gowns, got on the school buses and headed to the elementary feeder school they had attended. Before they entered, the high school teacher who accompanied them told them to hand a sticker to any little kid who reminded them of themselves at that age. The kindergartners through fifth graders lined the hallways with congratulatory signs and chanted, "Let's go, seniors," cheering as the older ones sauntered through the halls.

I kept myself together through all the other "lasts" -- the last tennis match, the last band performance, the last day of school. But when I saw those tiny kindergartners gazing in awe at these giant kids walking through their school, I fought back tears. In that instant I saw the highlight reel -- the school plays, the strings concerts, the end-of-year assemblies and class parties -- that took place in that building. The little ones saw a glimpse into the future; the older ones, a reflection of their past.

My son said his former third grade teacher spotted him in the walk-through and tackled him in a hug. Mrs. Powell had adored him, and I adored her. I don't know if their teachers know how much they shaped them into the young adults they are now or how grateful I am for their effort and care. I don't know if the parents of those kindergartners realize how quickly it will be their babies' turn to walk these halls in caps and gowns.

"What a journey," my son's elementary school chess coach said to me as we walked out. I could only nod, afraid that any words would release the torrent of emotions I was trying to keep under control. As I walked to my car, I ran into the mom of another senior, whom my son has stayed friends with throughout the years.

"I'm trying not to break down in front of my kid," she said. Her voice caught as she held back a sob.

I could hardly speak.

The elementary school looked so much bigger when they used to go there. It seems to have shrunk. Now, they scarcely fit in the hallways. How had they outgrown this place that had helped shape them into young men and women?

I watched from my car in the parking lot, where I used to wait in the pickup line, as the seniors loaded the buses.

Slowly but surely, they left the school behind.

Tasha Turner learned how to change her mom's wound dressings and give her medication when she was in second grade.

Turner's parents divorced when she was 2 years old, and a year later, her mom, Tannette Hunter, got sick. Doctors diagnosed her with cardiomyopathy and other heart afflictions.

Turner was an only child and stepped up as a caregiver. By the age of 7, she could cook a full meal, clean the house and take care of her mom's daily needs.

Hunter, knowing her time was limited, tried to make as many memories with her daughter as possible. "She loved to laugh," Turner said. "She loved to dance, when she could."

When Hunter was too sick to get out of bed, Turner would lie next to her and play with her hair to help her fall asleep.

Hunter died when she was 29 and Turner was 11.

"I remember her being very loving. She was an all-around fun mom," she said.

There's no official count of how many children in America lose a parent before the age of 18. A 2020 study published in the American Journal of Orthopsychiatry estimated that about 4% of U.S. kids under age 18 -- roughly 2.9 million children -- had already experienced the death of a parent or sibling, and projected that about 1 out of 14 would lose a parent or sibling by the time they turned 18. The COVID-19 pandemic escalated child bereavement, with more than 200,000 children losing a parent or primary caregiver to the virus.

Turner, now 35, says she didn't allow herself to really grieve after her mom died. She was sent from her home of Overland, Missouri, to California to live with her father and his family. She struggled to adjust. Halfway through her junior year of high school, she came back to live with her mom's sister in St. Ann, Missouri. Her aunt nurtured her during those turbulent teenage years.

Experts say that having a strong support system is critical to helping children heal from the loss of a parent. Having a ritual or memorial to honor the deceased parent also can be helpful for healing. Turner made a point to visit her mother's gravesite every Mother's Day and lay roses on her grave.

Turner graduated from high school, and a year later, met the man who would become her husband. Richard Turner, then 25, saw her in a car when she was stopped at a light near her church. He followed her to the church and asked if she wanted to hang out. They met up with some friends later and went on a few dates.

"It was almost like a 'love at first sight' type of thing," she said. He was working as a carpenter at the time. A few weeks after they met, he was in a serious accident that nearly severed four of his fingers. Turner moved in with him to help take care of him.

"It's always been a natural role for me," she said. In fact, she went on to become a nurse, until the COVID-19 pandemic burned her out.

She and Richard have now been together 16 years and are raising three daughters. Back when she first moved in, she met her future mother-in-law, Debbie Grafeman.

"I don't know what to call you," Turner said to her.

"You can just call me Mom," Grafeman said. From that point on, Grafeman treated her like a daughter. Turner describes her as "funny and wild and amazing at everything."

Grafeman was in a car accident in September 2018. While she was in the hospital and then in rehab, Turner helped take care of her.

"She didn't trust anyone else to dye her hair but me," Turner said. Grafeman had been recovering, but suddenly passed away in April 2019 from a blood clot.

"Losing her was like losing my own mother all over again," Turner said.

Over the years, she's come to terms with grieving. Despite losing her mom at a young age, she focuses on being grateful for all the love she gave her.

But holidays, especially Mother's Day, are still tough.

That day, she visits two cemeteries. First, she goes to talk to her mom. She tells her about her daughters, how much she misses her and that she loves her. Whenever she can, she takes her daughters with her because she wants them to know about their grandmother.

Turner's eldest, Tiffany McMahon, 17, said she loves the tradition.

"I never met my grandma, but it still makes me emotional," she said.

Turner tells her mom that she can't wait to see her again, and then she drives 10 minutes to where her mother-in-law is buried.

She remembers the first Mother's Day without Grafeman. She cried while she spoke to her.

"Thank you for loving me like a daughter," she said. "I miss you. I'll take care of everyone the best I can."

Then, she heads back home to tend to her family.

Ever since February, when the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention shared its survey data on teen girls' skyrocketing anxiety, sadness and suicidal thoughts, the focus has been on what might be causing this level of suffering. But there's an answer in the data, staring us right in the face.

According to the 2021 Youth Risk Behavior Survey Data, nearly 3 in 5 U.S. teen girls (57%) felt persistently sad or hopeless in 2021. That's the highest level reported over the past decade and nearly twice what boys reported. Thirty percent of teen girls said they have seriously considered dying by suicide -- a percentage that's risen by nearly 60% over the past 10 years.

It's useful to note that this survey was taken while there were still significant disruptions in teens' lives from the pandemic. But let's explore some of the other factors involved.

To find out what might be driving this rise in mental health troubles, especially for teenage girls, I turned to two experts on the St. Louis Regional Suicide Prevention Coalition. Liz Sale, research associate professor for the Missouri Institute of Mental Health at the University of Missouri-St. Louis, studies and tracks suicide data in the state. Elizabeth Makulec is the executive director for Kids Under Twenty One, a nonprofit that works to improve the emotional well-being of young people.

Research has documented that frequent social media use has a detrimental effect on teen mental health, particularly for girls. Makulec pointed out that while social media also offers some positive aspects, like exposure to new ideas and connection with others, it carries risks like deteriorating self-esteem and bullying.

"I can't tell you the number of times that social media comes up as an issue," Sale said in agreement. Parents often don't even realize that their young children can access sites without their knowledge.

Other factors that Makulec and Sale agree have made adolescence more challenging: increased competitiveness, pressure and schedule demands on high school students; stress and anxiety among caregivers, parents and teachers; and awareness of bleak social and political realities, such as school shootings and climate change.

"There's an overwhelming uncertainty of what the world is going to look like when (a young person) becomes an adult," Makulec said. "There's a lot of uncertainty, ugliness and hatefulness going on, and there's only so much that people can tolerate."

Teaching children at all ages how to cope with difficult feelings and challenging circumstances has to be a fundamental part of education. Learning coping skills should start at the youngest possible ages, building on that knowledge and training as children grow, they said. Young people have become more comfortable talking about mental health and can learn strategies that become a part of their everyday wellness.

There were two other statistics in the survey data that immediately jumped out at me:

-- Nearly 1 in 5 teen girls (18%) said they had experienced sexual violence in the past year -- up 20% since 2017, when the CDC started monitoring this.

-- About 1 in 7 teen girls (14%) reported having been forced to have sex -- up 27% since 2019, when the CDC began monitoring this.

Some of these increases may be attributable to a growing willingness to talk about sexual violence, but these are unacceptably high levels, regardless. Consider that in a classroom of 20 girls, two have reported being raped.

It makes sense that a population experiencing rising levels of violence and trauma would report higher levels of anxiety and sadness.

"Any time you don't feel safe, feel you may be victimized, it causes you to be on edge and fearful," Makulec explained. Remaining hyperattentive or hypervigilant in an effort to keep oneself safe from sexual violence feeds a cycle of anxiety.

The solutions to address this issue go beyond teaching coping skills.

Unlike the internal work required by girls to build resilience, reducing their exposure to sexual violence demands external work -- from parents, educators, school administrators and law enforcement. From boys and men.

If parents and schools fail to educate boys about what consent looks like, boys will instead pick up cues from a toxic culture: politicians who brag about grabbing women's crotches, YouTube influencers who spout a hatred of women, and porn that fetishizes violence and degradation.

Too many parents are in denial about these messages their sons are constantly given. And too many educators are dismissive of the threats, harassment and violence girls say they've experienced.

If we are truly concerned about girls' mental health, we have to look outside their internal emotional world and also fix the broken real world.