Heading childhood anxiety off at the pass

Untreated anxiety in children is associated with all sorts of bad things later in life. The good news is, if you do treat it, it can usually clear up.

Untreated anxiety in children is associated with all sorts of bad things later in life–mood disorders, alcohol and drug abuse, suicidality, underachievement in school, and low earning potential. The good news is, if you do treat it, it can usually clear up.

It’s usually easier to prevent something than it is to treat it, so it would be great if we could predict which kids are likely to develop chronic problems with anxiety, and head it off at the pass. That might actually be plausible, since anxiety has a trajectory of development. As Strawn et al. put it, “…the adolescent with panic and generalized anxiety disorders was once a boy with separation anxiety disorder and…a toddler with extreme shyness…”

But, how would one do that prediction?

(If you’re mainly here to improve your English, you will find an explanation of head it off at the pass in the English notes at the end of this post.)

I am a happy practitioner of the write-about-what-you-don’t-know approach to scribbling. Right at this moment I am realizing that I don’t know very much about the development of anxiety in children and adolescents. So, I am reading the paper Research Review: Pediatric anxiety disorders–what have we learnt in the last 10 years?, by Jeffrey Strawn, John Walkup, and a bunch of other folks. It describes a number of risk factors for the development of a variety of anxiety disorders. The risk factors fall into categories of cognitive bias, behavioral tendencies, family environment, parental disorders, substance abuse, and environmental exposure.

When I’m trying to understand a new disease, I sometimes play this game: walk into a restaurant, look around, and pick out the person most likely to suffer from it. (At my advanced age, that is often me, but that’s another story.) For the kinds of risk factors that are related to pediatric and adolescent anxiety disorders, that’s not really an option, so instead, I’m trying something different: I’m writing about some kids who I would expect (based on my limited knowledge) to develop anxiety–or not. So, here’s what we’re gonna do today: we’ll look at my little vignettes, say for each one whether we think the kid is at high risk or low risk of developing an anxiety disorder, and then explain why. I have written these vignettes in the style of the notes that a physician (doctor) writes when they examine a patient. That’s why it sounds odd. (We’ll talk about some of those oddities in the English notes.) Ready? C’est parti.

John is a 5y3m-old male with an uneventful medical history. He is referred to the psychiatry clinic because of bursts of tears and screaming when dropped off at school, persisting into the third week of the school year. He is in his third foster home since his mother was hospitalized for anxiety and depression six months ago.

Reminder: this is not the story of a real child. I have made it up myself for educational purposes.

Likely outcome? John is at high risk of developing an anxiety disorder. His behavior at school–not wanting to be dropped off even after three weeks from the beginning of the academic year–is a kind of behavioral inhibition, and behavioral inhibition is a risk factor for later development of anxiety disorders. Childhood separation events are, too, and John has experienced these multiple times–first with the long and continuing hospitalization of his mother, and then due to repeated changes of foster care placements. Having a parent with an anxiety disorder or depression also increases a child’s risk of developing an anxiety disorder, and John’s mother has both of those–that’s why she’s been hospitalized for so long.

Mary is an 8 year old healthy-appearing female. She is referred to the environmental health clinic after routine screening at her school suggested a high probability of lead and mercury exposure.

Mary lives with her paternal grandmother since her mother was imprisoned for sale of controlled substances and child endangerment and her father died in an automobile accident soon after. The grandmother seems quite controlling, but reports that she has changed household routines in response to Mary’s fear of sleeping alone.

Reminder: this is not the story of a real child. I have made it up myself for educational purposes.

Probable outcome? Mary is at high risk of developing an anxiety disorder. Exposure to environmental contaminants increase a child’s likelihood of developing subsequent problems with anxiety. Like John, she has experienced multiple separation events, with her mother being sent to prison and her father dying soon after. Over-controlling parenting, such as she is getting from her grandmother, also increases the risk of developing an anxiety disorder. “Family accommodation,” or changes made to group behavior in response to a child’s early anxiety symptoms, also increase the likelihood of developing an anxiety disorder, so despite the use of “but” in the example, this is not a good thing for this kid.

Harry is a cheerful, outgoing adolescent who presents in the Emergency Department with exquisite point tenderness in the right femoral area after a fall experienced while practicing his newly-discovered passion for rock-climbing. His father died in Iraq when John was six months old. His mother remarried two years later, and she reports that John has been close to his stepfather ever since. He denies alcohol, drug, or tobacco use.

Reminder: this is not the story of a real child. I have made it up myself for educational purposes.

What does the future hold? Harry is at low risk of developing an anxiety disorder. He clearly does not have a fear of trying new things, and is not shy. Although he lost his father, it happened so early in his life that he probably did not experience it as a separation event–recall that his father was deployed to Iraq–and he has always had a close relationship with his stepfather. The lack of alcohol, drug, or tobacco use is relevant in that these kinds of substance abuse (and I say that as someone who cheerfully enjoys fine American tobacco products) are often associated with anxiety disorders.


English notes

To head something off at the pass: to take action in order to prevent something from happening. This is a cowboy thing: a pass is a narrow path at a low point in a mountain range that lets you get through the mountains without having to climb them. You can prevent someone from getting somewhere that they’re trying to go if they have to go through a pass to get there–they’re narrow, and therefore easy to block. Some examples of the use of this expression:

  • Dilbert tries to head off criticism of Trump at the pass by defining it as coming from some “other side.” (Source: Twitter)
  • The apologists for Trump & Trumpies sure managed to tone down his rhetoric & head off his bigotry at the pass, didn’t they. (Source: Twitter)

How I used it in the post: It’s usually easier to prevent something than it is to treat it, so it would be great if we could predict which kids are likely to develop chronic problems with anxiety, and head it off at the pass.

Now let’s look at some of the odd aspects of medical English:

to refer to: in this sense, to refer someone to a treatment facility is to send them to that facility for consultation by a specialist. Your insurance company will usually require you to have a referral from your primary care provider for this kind of thing. How I used it in the post:

  • He is referred to the psychiatry clinic because of bursts of tears and screaming when dropped off at school
  • She is referred to the environmental health clinic after routine screening at her school

to present with something: this expression is used to describe a patient’s state when first meeting with a health care provider. How I used it in the post:

Harry is a cheerful, outgoing adolescent who presents in the Emergency Department with exquisite point tenderness in the right femoral area after a fall experienced while practicing his newly-discovered passion for rock-climbing.

Burstiness in language and the liberation of Paris

In which language displays interesting statistical properties, some people get fired, and I learn a few words about the Army.

Twenty-plus years ago, I got my first job as an actual, card-carrying linguist, working for a company that did things with big collections of linguistic data, using them to improve computer programs that did speech recognition, i.e. figuring out what words a person is saying.

One fine day the people that gave us the vast majority of our income sent their big-collection-of-linguistic-data specialist to visit us. We demonstrated to him the computer program that we had built to answer the question how can you tell when a big collection of linguistic data is big enough? We pointed out how to spot the tell-tale sign on a graph that means “it’s big enough.” “Oh, that just means that linguistic data is bursty.”

The blue line shows a big collection of linguistic data that is not nearly big enough. The other lines show big collections of linguistic data that are big enough. The telltale sign: a line that has gotten flat. Picture source: Irina Temnikova, Negacy Hailu, Galia Angelova, and K. Bretonnel Cohen. “Measuring closure properties of patent sublanguages.” In Proceedings of the International Conference Recent Advances in Natural Language Processing RANLP 2013, pp. 659-666. 2013.

What did he mean by “bursty?” We had a guess, but weren’t exactly sure, and given that his company paid us a lot of money and he was their expert, my boss thought it best not to push back. A few months later, they declined to renew our contract, and our owner laid everyone off and went away to do something else. Was it because we didn’t push back on the big-collection-of-linguistic-data expert’s dismissiveness? Probably not–our little company committed far bigger errors, and on a sadly regular basis. Whatever–the job market for computational linguists was not terrible in those days (it’s pretty wonderful now), and I found my second job as an actual, card-carrying linguist pretty quickly. But: burstiness is pretty important, and it continues to bump into my life today, in various and sundry ways, some of which will be of interest to readers of this blog.

What burstiness means: per Wikipedia,

In statisticsburstiness is the intermittent increases and decreases in activity or frequency of an event.

Wikipedia, Burstiness

In plain English: burstiness is present when something doesn’t happen for long periods of time, but then happens a lot, and then goes back to not happening very often. Some things that have this characteristic: hurricanes, and pandemics. Statisticians care about burstiness because bursty things are difficult to characterize with normal statistics, so you have to come up with new techniques to work with them; people like disaster planners and public health experts care about those statistics because it is difficult to predict, and therefore to plan for, things that have weird statistical properties.


From a computational linguist’s perspective, burstiness is important because in big collections of language, you don’t see new words very often, but when you do, sometimes you see a lot of them at once. If you’re trying to do something like build a dictionary for a computer program, you typically do that by finding all of the words in a big collection of linguistic data. But, how do you know when your collection of linguistic data is big enough? See above; the problem is that if you kept growing the collection, you know that there will be bursts of new words, but you can’t keep growing your collection forever–at some point, you have to stop and work with what you have at hand.


Many of our dear fellow readers are engaged in learning a language that they don’t already speak. I am one of them–if you have been reading this blog for a few years, you have followed my feeble attempts to learn la langue de Molière, also known as “French.” By now I know the language well enough that I can pick up a book in it and not have to turn to a dictionary very often. But, when I do, it typically happens like this…


Right at this moment, I’m reading Paris brûle-t-il ?, “Is Paris burning?,” the work of reference on the liberation of Paris. I typically get through about three pages before I have to look up a word. But, then this morning, I’m reading about the French 2nd Armored Division rolling from Normandy to Paris when I come across this sentence. I had to look up all of the words in bold face:

Glissant en silence sur leurs six roues de caoutchouc, les automitrailleuses des spahis à calots rouges, “chiens de chasse” de la division, ouvraient la marche.

Dominique Lapierre and Larry Collins, Paris brûle-t-il ?, published by Robert Laffont in 1964.
  • l’automitrailleuse: a light armored vehicle.
  • le spahi: native cavalry trooper of the Maghreb.
  • le calot: garrison cap in English; when I was in the Navy, we called them “cunt caps.” A calot has no brim or visor, and therefore can be folded flat and tucked under the epaulet of a military jacket.
A Russian garrison cap, or calot in French, pilotka in Russian.

After that, it was back to my normal rate: about one word every three pages. That certainly counts as “not very often,” and is pretty good for a non-native speaker. To then jump to three words in a single sentence, and then go back to my base rate of one word every three pages, is a good example of burstiness. Once again, we see why one might right a blog like this one–a blog about the statistical properties of language and their implications for people who are trying to learn one. What happened to the dismissive big-collections-of-linguistic-data expert? I don’t know for a fact, but I do know that people who are dismissive of the opinions of others don’t typically have much professional success. Personally, I took what I learned from the experience of working at a failed software start-up to do a better job of being a computational linguist, and have had a wonderfully fun time with it. Want to try a career in computational linguistics yourself? Start here if you are not a graduate student, or here if you are, and I hope you have as much fun with it as I have!

French notes:

Despite what its name would lead one to think, an automitrailleuse does not necessarily carry a machine gun. Here some pictures of modern automitrailleuses. You’ll notice that some of them look a lot like tanks. The salient differences are that (1) they weigh less, and (2) they have wheels, not treads.

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