On 29 October 2024, Valencia was hit by one of the worst natural disasters in its recent history. A powerful DANA (Depresión Aislada en Niveles Altos, or “cold drop”) brought torrential rain, with some areas receiving more than 300 mm of rainfall in just a few hours. Entire neighbourhoods were submerged.
The human and material cost was devastating. Across the region, 232 people lost their lives, with towns such as Paiporta experiencing dozens of fatalities. More than 60,000 homes, 105,000 vehicles, and 10,000 shops were either destroyed or severely damaged. Thousands of residents were displaced, many losing not only their homes but also their belongings, schools, and livelihoods.
The financial toll reflected the scale of destruction. The Spanish government initially approved a €10.6 billion emergency relief package, followed by an additional €3.76 billion for cleanup, housing, and support to farmers. Estimates suggest that rebuilding public infrastructure—including schools, libraries, and sanitation systems—could cost €1.7 billion or more.
Against this backdrop of loss and upheaval, one school community began the difficult task of supporting children and families through both the practical and emotional aftermath.
In the immediate days after the floods, the school atmosphere was described as “quiet and sombre”, punctuated by moments of intense emotion from both staff and pupils.
While some families faced the trauma of losing their homes, others were overwhelmed by the practical burdens of temporary accommodation, lack of transport, and financial strain. Even those not directly affected struggled with what staff referred to as “survivor guilt”: why them, and not me?
Teachers themselves faced their own challenges. One staff member explained that their greatest difficulty was “to keep composure in front of the children,” knowing that the stability they provided was essential.
In response, the school developed a careful plan. Children most directly affected were identified and staff checked in regularly with families. Those struggling emotionally were offered either Drawing and Talking or Sand Play, depending on their age and needs.
Some children engaged immediately, while others began to show the emotional weight of the floods months later—long after the homes were cleared but when the sense of loss truly began to sink in.
Staff felt that these interventions were particularly appropriate in this context.
“For some children, they were tired of talking about it directly. Perhaps they didn’t want to relive it. Drawing and Talking allowed them to process it in a non-intrusive way.”
Each session provided a safe, contained, and predictable environment—an invaluable gift at a time when life outside felt unstable and frightening.
The scale of the disaster meant that changes were not always immediately visible. Yet within sessions, children began to express the trauma in ways words alone might never have allowed.
One of the most striking examples came from a four-year-old girl, initially referred for unrelated reasons. When she began her Sand Play sessions in February 2025—four months after the floods—she was almost mute. In her tenth session, she carefully built a scene of houses, cars, and people in the sand tray before suddenly tipping the sand across everything and saying: “The country had a DANA.”
In her final sessions, she abandoned the sand tray altogether, creating elaborate scenes on the carpet while narrating her play confidently. A child who once struggled to speak was now able to tell stories, process events, and take control of her narrative.
Other children rarely mentioned the floods directly, but the collective trauma emerged subtly. A nine-year-old boy, for example, spoke of collecting money for charity, explaining that it was for those “afectados por la DANA”—echoing a phrase that had become part of everyday life across the city.
Even when the floods were not explicitly mentioned, staff noticed quiet but powerful shifts: children who had once avoided eye contact now waved in the corridors, smiled, or offered hugs. The interventions provided not only healing but also reconnection.
For teachers, the interventions were just as valuable. Drawing and Talking removed the pressure of having to push children into discussing traumatic events directly.
“Often, I can feel like I’m pushing for information, or children can feel uncomfortable if we’re talking directly about tricky feelings,” one teacher explained.
“With Drawing and Talking, the sessions are led by the children themselves. They take it where it needs to go, and what they need in that moment. It’s amazing to see the trust build so quickly.”
The school also noticed a wider cultural shift: emotional wellbeing was no longer an add-on, but central to the way staff engaged with children and one another.
As the one-year anniversary of the floods approaches, staff know that memories will resurface. Already, storms in the past year have forced the school to close twice due to severe weather warnings, keeping the sense of vulnerability alive in the community.
Drawing and Talking and Sand Play will remain central to the school’s wellbeing strategy. Staff have seen that the true impact of trauma sometimes emerges months after the event, meaning sustained support is essential.
Their advice to other schools is clear:
“This is an amazing intervention that is so easy to employ if resources permit. Especially the whole-class intervention that can reach a wider audience.”
Asked to sum up the impact in one sentence, a teacher responded:
“This is an amazing child/adult intervention that unobtrusively builds resilience and trust over a relatively short period of time.”
And their message to other communities recovering from crisis is both compassionate and practical:
“People of all ages show their distress in many different ways. Support networks should be channelling in to find the most appropriate approach to giving emotional support. Some people do not show upset at all—gentle enquiry should still be made.”