Student Drama Production Sets Off Concerns About Themes of Suicide

How the controversy over a one-act play in Whitehall speaks to the chOn a Friday morning in late January, the University of Montana's Montana Theatre echoed with the fragmented thoughts and self-conscious soliloquies of the teenage mind. Over the course of half an hour, the student chorus giving life to each line stood fanned out across the stage, their backs to the audience and faces averted as if to impart embarrassment, indifference or shame.

"It sucks."

"It hurts."

"How can I fit in?"

"How can dreams survive high school?"

The dozen members of the Whitehall High School drama club had spent months preparing for this appearance at the Montana Thespian Festival in Missoula, forging personal connections with a grab bag of characters and familiar themes including anxiety, depression, bullying, break-ups and grief. In the performance, each round of rapidfire exclamations gave way to a spirited sketch centered on one of the student actors, and the audience swung between scattered laughter and rapt silence. The play's final moments built to a crushing climax delivered by Whitehall senior Lele Martin, her bullied and outcast character Maggie proclaiming, "I couldn't take it anymore!"

"Right in the middle of my own story ... with so much left to say ... I closed the book."

With the ring of heckling peers around Martin repeatedly shouting "bang," few could mistake the scene's insinuation of Maggie's suicide, underscored by the festival's pre-performance trigger warning directing the audience's attention to information on Montana's suicide hotline.

It was clear the content of the play - a 2012 script called "I Don't Want to Talk About It" by playwright Bradley Hayward - struck a chord with onlookers. One student seated in the theater turned to another as the house lights came up and whispered, "I cried," and judges later granted the Whitehall cast an impact award.

It was exactly the reception the cast was hoping for, Whitehall drama coach Elizabeth Pullman told Montana Free Press later, noting that "the kids wanted to do something that left an impression."

"I felt like they were seen more this year," Pullman continued, "because it was something that everyone goes through in one way or another."

But the production that stirred judges and festival-goers in Missoula was blocked back home. In early January, administrators at Whitehall Public Schools expressed concern about the play's themes and informed Pullman that a performance for the student body would be inappropriate. Initially the district rooted its opposition in Senate Bill 99, a 2021 law that set up new restrictions around public school discussions about sex and relationships, but administrators quickly dropped that concern and shifted their objections to the suicide at the apex of "I Don't Want to Talk About It."

"The district determined that public and school performances of the play would not proceed as the content was not appropriate for student audiences," Superintendent Hannah Nieskens told MTFP in an email last month, citing guidance school leaders received from Montana's Office of Public Instruction and Department of Public Health and Human Services after reaching out about the script.

Deciding when, where and how to engage students in conversations about suicide involves professional, legal and cultural considerations, and state agencies like DPHHS advise schools to take deliberate steps to avoid causing trauma or harm. While Whitehall's student cast acknowledged the delicacy of public school discussions, they were nonetheless troubled by their district's resistance to the play they'd spent months rehearsing.

Clustered on the carpeted floor outside the theater after their Missoula appearance, the troupe spoke at length about the resonance of Hayward's writing in their own high school experiences and the importance of talking openly with their peers about the issues they're facing. As one student after another cut in excitedly, their comments often overlapping, it became clear they couldn't wait to talk about "I Don't Want to Talk About It."

"The school is saying this deals with suicide and mental health and things that are difficult to talk about, which is basically the entire point of the play," Whitehall sophomore Rolan Leonti said. "But I feel like this needs to be addressed and heard by teens - or literally anyone - just to know that they're not alone, because some people don't know that."

'A TIGHTROPE': Suicide is a difficult subject for Montana public schools to broach. With teen rates of anxiety, depression and thoughts of suicide on the rise nationally, there's scant disagreement among education leaders about the need to engage with students about mental health issues. But the challenge is how to appropriately have those conversations. State law strongly recommends school-based education and training in suicide awareness and prevention, but there's no firm requirement.

For Tina Boone, executive director of the Montana School Counselor Association, talking to students about suicide and related mental health concerns is "imperative."

"It's literally life and death," Boone said. Roughly 20% of Montana students who participated in the state health department's Prevention Needs Assessment in 2024 reported having considered attempting suicide one or more times in the past year, and more than 30% reported feeling sad or depressed every day for two weeks straight or longer.

Over the years, state agencies and nonprofits have sought to give local school districts more direction in responsibly navigating the issue, crafting guidance documents and toolkits and ensuring school staff have access to suicide awareness and prevention training. Round-the-clock hotlines like Montana 988 provide free, confidential support to individuals in crisis, and students are encouraged to be familiar with such resources not just for themselves but their peers.

"Any program implemented in a school needs to be researched and evidence-based to ensure that it is safe for students," Karl Rosston, state suicide prevention coordinator at DPHHS, told MTFP via email last month. "Routine screening [of students for mental health risks] is recommended, and education is critical. Much of the research has shown that education increases help-seeking behavior by other students, who may be friends of the student at risk and to whom the student may have disclosed information."

Paying for such initiatives doesn't come easy, and federal assistance for student mental health has become increasingly inconsistent in recent years. Schools have some flexibility in using state funds to help at-risk youth, and lawmakers have sought to open other avenues including allowing districts to direct revenue from locally approved school safety levies toward mental health staff and interventions. But those needs often must compete in tight budgets with a litany of other pressing educational demands. Mental health advocates in this legislative session are actively promoting measures that further aid schools in addressing the issue.

"Discussing suicide awareness and prevention in Montana's public schools is vital for early intervention and building support systems," said Katie Levine, executive director of the Montana and Wyoming chapters of the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, which is hosting an advocacy day at the Capitol in Helena on Feb. 11. "It's crucial for students to recognize warning signs among their peers and understand that talking about mental health and suicide is OK. Breaking down the stigma around these conversations can save lives, as discussing suicide does not put the idea in someone's head."

Rosston said while educating students about suicide prevention can be valuable, it comes with a few caveats. DPHHS does not recommend suicide-prevention-specific education for elementary school students, suggesting instead a focus on developing resiliency and coping skills. And once students cross the threshold into middle and high school, Rosston wrote that a primary concern becomes the risk of "suicide contagion" - a term that refers to increased suicidal behavior occurring in an individual after learning about or witnessing the suicide of a friend, family member, classmate or community member.

DPHHS recommends schools limit group discussions about suicide to "psychoeducation" - researched, evidence-based information - about warning signs and how to assist others who are at risk.

"An example that often occurs in schools is having an assembly by a motivational speaker or a presentation concerning the topic of suicide to a large group of students. This is strongly discouraged," Rosston wrote, emphasizing the point in bold font. "This is because when considering a large audience, there is no way to gauge or predict how the presented message and topic could trigger those in the audience. Any school-based program should be done in a classroom where students are assessed before they leave, and resources are available."

That's precisely the feedback Rosston said he shared with Whitehall Superintendent Nieskens in challenges of discussing mental health issues in Montana's K-12 schools.

early January. However, Rosston did note that there have been examples of community theater productions in Montana with suicide as a central theme. In one case, he wrote to MTFP, Helena's Grandstreet Theatre included an audience warning about a play's content ahead of the performance along with information about Montana's 988 suicide hotline. Rosston added that the theater also trained its staff in mental health first aid and arranged for mental health professionals to be available for post-performance consultations.

Such steps underscore the efforts community venues have taken to foster responsible, adequately resourced discussions about suicide. When it comes to public institutions catering to minors, the level of caution ratchets up considerably.

"I've not seen educators not want to do the right thing, but it's a tightrope," Boone said. "There could be threat of lawsuits, there could be threat of your certificate getting taken away. It's a very emotionally charged topic and every parent handles it differently."

State Superintendent Susie Hedalen, Montana's top education official who was sworn in this January, concurs that school officials need to approach sensitive topics such as suicide and social media safety with openness and transparency. In a recent interview with MTFP, Hedalen declined to speak directly about the situation in Whitehall in deference to the local school board and administrative authority. She did share an anecdote from when the Townsend School District, under her tenure as superintendent there, hosted a "family night" to preview student-oriented suicide prevention and school safety materials. The event, she said, illustrated the benefits of opening a dialogue not just with students and staff but with the broader community.

"The grandparents that came, their comments really stood out to me," Hedalen said. "They were like, 'Wow, we didn't know about the dangers of some of these apps that you shared with us, or the way that social media can create anxiety.' ... They had a lot of takeaways themselves and were able then to have those conversations as a family and with their students."

While Levine agreed suicide is a sensitive topic, she also believes it's "not one we should shy away from." And, in an email to MTFP, she stressed the important role student voices play in normalizing such conversations, empowering youth and fostering a supportive community. Peer support, she noted, can be "incredibly powerful."

"By involving students," Levine added, "schools can better address their needs and create an environment where everyone feels safe to talk about mental health and seek help when needed."

DISTRICT RESISTANCE: In Whitehall, the ethical tightrope walk Boone referenced has only gotten shakier with each passing week of 2025. Despite supporting letters from playwright Hayward and the national American Civil Liberties Union submitted during the administrators' deliberations on the script, school officials still scuttled plans to perform "I Don't Want to Talk About It" for the Whitehall student body. Instead, in an email later shared with MTFP, high school principal Jason Slater suggested to drama coach Pullman and other Whitehall school officials that the play be moved to the nearby Star Theatre - operated by a nonprofit co-founded by Pullman - and billed as a community production.

"Having read the script, I want to emphasize that I would not have approved this performance for our middle/high school," Slater wrote Jan. 1. "Beyond compliance with law and policy, it is critical that we consider our school's climate, culture, and the broader community."

Pullman is also the owner and publisher of the Whitehall Ledger newspaper, and on Jan. 2 contacted MTFP regarding issues with the school play, explaining she could not ethically cover the situation herself.

In a Jan. 10 email to MTFP explaining the district's position, Nieskens confirmed she'd reached out to both DPHHS and the Montana Office of Public Instruction about the script and was directed to review national recommendations for depictions of suicide in entertainment. Based on that guidance, Nieskens - who was appointed last month to the Montana Board of Public Education by Republican Gov. Greg Gianforte, pending state Senate confirmation - said she and Slater determined the play was "not appropriate for student audiences." Neither administrator lodged an objection to Whitehall students performing it at the Montana Thespian Festival, an annual gathering of Montana high school drama clubs organized by the nonprofit Montana Thespians, which is an affiliate of the national Educational Theatre Association.

Montana Thespians Director Sarah DeGrandpre had no objection, and the drama club's rendition of "I Don't Want to Talk About It" debuted for hundreds of parents and fellow high school students from across Montana on Jan. 24. As they prepared to take the stage, the cast showed little, if any, signs of anxiety or stage fright, applying makeup and gathering their props. During her pep talk, Pullman coached them to "project through your peaks and valleys" and joked that she was "way more nervous than you guys."

When the house lights went down, a pair of festival representatives prefaced the production by cautioning the audience about the play's content and directing their attention to information about Montana's 988 suicide hotline - steps Pullman had suggested the Whitehall district take in order to accommodate a local performance. The cast returned home victorious, having won not only Outstanding Impact and Best Supporting Performer awards but a perfect score as well from the festival's judges.

"Whitehall's play contains a suicide, but that's really not what the play is about," DeGrandpre told The Boulder Monitor. "We have had lots of plays here like that over the years. I've had to warn schools, in past years, where I've known they've had a recent suicide, that they should consider doing something else instead of seeing a particular play. And we make sure to have abundant resources available, should anyone need them."

Despite the accolades Whitehall's drama club received at the festival, Pullman called MTFP the following week to inform a reporter she'd been escorted out of the school pending an investigation. The following day Nieskens distributed an email to Whitehall parents and guardians claiming Pullman had granted "unauthorized media access" to the drama club students and that she had resigned as drama club advisor. The email specifically cited MTFP and The Boulder Monitor as the media outlets that had attended the Missoula performance and interviewed the students.

On Feb. 3, Pullman repudiated the claims in a follow-up interview, countering that she had not yet resigned and reaffirmed that parents had consented to media interviews and photographs during their appearance at the festival. Both MTFP and The Boulder Monitor were granted press credentials by festival organizers, and several drama club parents were present for a group interview after the performance. The interview focused on the play's personal resonance among the cast, their reaction to the district's position and their thoughts on how to effectively connect with teens regarding mental health issues such as suicide. MTFP followed up with the parents of students directly quoted in this story to confirm their consent.

Nieskens did not respond to an email seeking additional comment or an interview following the Whitehall drama club's festival performance.

In a recent email response to MTFP, playwright Hayward said this isn't the first time "I Don't Want to Talk About It" has gotten pushback from school administrators. But, he added, it is the first time a performance of the play has been canceled.

"The point of theatre, literature, artwork, and music is to shine a light on the world," Hayward wrote. "Only when we see that light reflected back to us are we able to appreciate our experiences, whether they be distressing or joyful. Turning the lights off on the students performing this play does not protect anyone. Instead, it leaves everyone in the dark."

According to Pullman, the cast is now scheduled to perform at the Star Theatre for 1 p.m. matinees on Feb. 15 and 16, and has been approached for potential appearances in at least one nearby Montana city.

OPEN YOUR EARS: For four decades, Montana's suicide rate across all age levels has consistently ranked among the worst five in the country. There's no single culprit lurking behind that statistic. Rosston and other health leaders point to a wide range of contributing factors, from geographic considerations such as altitude and isolation to societal issues like alcohol abuse and poverty. Stigma lands high on the list too, with prevailing views around depression and mental health support making it that much more challenging to facilitate open dialogue.

Boone noted that stigma seems to have lost its power with young people. In her interactions with students over the years, she said she's seen an increased openness in talking about mental health issues and a recognition of the importance of speaking up when someone is at risk. Boone attributed the shift in part to the conversations and lessons Montana's K-12 system has fostered around mental health and suicide. Forging relationships with students is a key component in promoting such openness, she continued, though she acknowledged that when a student comes to a counselor or teacher in crisis, it's "flat-out scary."

"Having been in education for 33 years, there is no way I could prepare for many of the things that walked in," she said. "And it's not just school counselors. Obviously, great educators build rapport with students, and those students come in and want to talk to them and they want somebody to listen. Bus drivers, coaches - it's everybody."

The resounding advice Whitehall's drama club had for the adults in their lives last month was simple: open your ears. Instead of feeling heard, Whitehall students were welcomed home from a successful festival performance with the news of an investigation by the district into alleged employee misconduct related to the play. The district has so far declined to discuss its claims against Pullman with the media or substantiate its concerns about drama club members engaging with the credentialed press while in Missoula. Superintendent Nieskens did not respond to multiple requests for comment including a Wednesday email seeking clarity about its recent allegations and investigation, but she and Slater did consent to an interview with Montana Talks radio host Aaron Flint that aired Feb. 4.

"A 40-minute play is not the right way to tackle serious issues in a school setting," Nieskens told Flint. "This isn't about shutting down conversations about mental health, there's appropriate ways to do that in school. It's about ensuring that the conversations happen in a safe way, a structured way, an effective way that truly supports students, not through some brief unmoderated student performance."

The situation has soured one parent's relationship with the Whitehall schools. In a letter published by the Whitehall Ledger on Feb. 5, Chiara Schober accused school leaders of a "disturbing pattern of censorship and administrative overreach" culminating in the cancelation of the drama club's production. Schober explained that as a result of the decision to "suppress difficult conversations," she had decided to pull her children - one being a performer in "I Don't Want to Talk About It" - from the district.

"If our schools refuse to be a place where students can think critically, engage in meaningful dialogue, and express themselves freely, then we will find or create an educational environment that does. This is not a decision we take lightly, but it is one we feel is necessary," Schober wrote, signing the letter as a "concerned parent and advocate for student voices."

Circled up outside Missoula's Montana Theatre last month, Whitehall's student cast agreed conversations about mental health and suicide should be handled responsibly, but voiced a shared desire not to see emotions completely swept under the rug. They spoke of wanting to feel trusted, respected, supported and in shared control of their conversations with authority figures, and indicated that peer interest in their production had actually intensified as a result of the administration's response.

More than anything, the cast of "I Don't Want to Talk About It" wanted to talk about the very issues deemed too sensitive for them to talk about. And they made it clear it wasn't too late to listen.

"Please, please do not make it a big deal," Leonti said. "If someone comes to you and is talking to you about this, just listen to them. Don't brush it off, and don't make it a big deal, because then everyone's going to know it and it's just going to make it worse."