Editor’s note: This is the first in a three-part series written by Elainah Elkins and Jill Hoppe, born in 1999 and 2000, respectively. There is growing discourse surrounding Gen Z, but the voices of Gen Zers themselves are often missing from the conversation. This is their response.
Do you remember New Year’s Eve 2000, when people weren’t sure if the world was going to end? We don’t. We’ve heard the stories, of course, but Elainah was too young to remember, and Jill wasn’t even born until August of that year. We are part of Generation Z, more commonly known as Gen Z, defined as those born between 1997 and 2012.
Nearly every day, we see a new headline criticizing what is “wrong” with Gen Z. “Gen Z is dating less. The result is one of the most unprepared workforces,” “Gen Z has ‘workplace anxiety’. Here’s what employers need to do,” and “Gen Z is the loneliest generation. Here’s what can help.” The message is consistent: Something about our generation is off.
Of course, this kind of narrative is not new. Every generation has been critiqued by the one before it—Gen Xers were labeled as slackers and millennials were viewed as entitled. Though the phrase “kids these days” has persisted forever, the intensity of these critiques feels different now, and data confirm that Gen Z’s work ethic is vastly different than the generations before it.
While some of the critiques about Gen Z feel exaggerated, others are somewhat grounded in reality. Most tend to fall into three broad categories: we struggle with mental health and interpersonal connection, we are overdependent on technology, and we are unprepared for the workforce.
But these critiques rarely ask a more important question: Why?
To understand Gen Z, you have to look at the systems and experiences that shaped us, including school. As members of the older end of this cohort, we recognize that our experiences may differ from those of younger Gen Zers, especially those just now entering high school. Still, we believe that our personal reflections will help illuminate the broader trends many young adults have experienced.
This post will focus on the first of these claims, the struggle with mental health and connection, and explore how and why Gen Zers came to be this way.
Test-taking culture contributed to an anxious learning environment
The signing of No Child Left Behind (NCLB) in 2002 marked a turning point in U.S. education. Driven by concerns over widening achievement gaps and fears that the country was falling behind globally, NCLB expanded the federal government’s role in education and ushered in an era of accountability and standardized testing.
By the time we entered elementary school in the late 2000s, this approach was deeply embedded in day-to-day classroom life. Jill’s experience with the New England Common Assessment Program (NECAP) and Elainah’s experience with Virginia’s Standards of Learning (SOLs) reflect how widespread and integral testing had become. Like many students of our generation, we began taking standardized tests around age eight, in a peak NCLB culture when performance on those exams was often treated as the primary measure of success.
Though we grew up in different states, our recollections of standardized testing share striking similarities. Regardless of how confident we felt about our test performance, schools drastically increased the stakes by entirely transforming classrooms and policies for test day. Desks were spaced evenly apart and makeshift dividers made from folders and binders created an environment reminiscent of a voting booth. Students waited in line at the pencil sharpener to ensure their two (in case one broke) No. 2 pencils were perfectly prepared. Even bathroom breaks were tightly controlled, requiring a teacher to escort us to prevent any possibility of cheating. You also weren’t allowed to ask for help of any sort, including asking for help sounding out a word you might not know.
Most teachers spent the entire year discussing the end-of-year test. There was no learning that didn’t reflect something that we’d be tested on, and it was instilled that whatever we learned was for the sake of performing well on the end of year test. In fact, after the passage of NCLB, 44 percent of school administrators confessed to cutting physical education and recess to focus on test prep. To be clear, the tests themselves weren’t the issue so much as the high-stakes test-taking culture. The culture communicated, implicitly and explicitly, that performance on the test was what mattered most.
Research from the NCLB era supports this experience. In one of the first studies specifically examining elementary students’ responses to high-stakes testing under NCLB, researchers found that children reported significantly higher levels of anxiety during standardized tests than during typical classroom assessments, including both emotional stress and physical symptoms like nervousness and tension. Moreover, a 2019 study found that, on average, students had 15 percent more cortisol (a hormonal indicator of stress) in their systems during the homeroom period before a standardized test than on days with no high-stakes testing. A significant amount of anecdotal evidence from scholars and former teachers and administrators confirms these experiences, as well.
Growing up in this education environment likely contributed to a stronger sense of perfectionism for many of us, fueled by stress, anxiety, and a heightened awareness of evaluation. While these traits are not unique to Gen Z, the systems we experienced may have reinforced them in ways that shaped how we approach risk, failure, and uncertainty.
School aren’t safe
Schools were not only a place that came with academic pressure, as concerns about school safety became an ever-present part of Gen Z’s educational experience.
The Columbine High School shooting in 1999, in which 12 students and one teacher were killed, marked a turning point in how Americans understood school safety, signaling that schools were no longer immune from gun violence. More than a decade later, when we were 12 and 13, the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting, where 20 young children and six educators were killed, underscored this reality, bringing the fear of school violence into even the earliest years of education.
In the years since these pivotal tragedies, gun violence has become an increasingly visible backdrop of our upbringing. We grew up in schools where lockdown drills became routine: doors locked, blinds drawn, students huddled together in corners or by cubbies. We learned where to go, how to stay silent, and how to respond, often before we were old enough to fully understand why these precautions were necessary. In this context, it should not be difficult to understand a contributing factor to why we are “so anxious,” and multiple studies confirm this. Gen Z is the first generation to grow up with the constant looming possibility of gun violence as a defining feature of education.
The pandemic disrupted socializing
We must also acknowledge the impact of the Covid-19 pandemic on Gen Z’s mental health and ability to connect. How it affected Gen Z can vary significantly across different ages, but whether it was during college (as for us) or middle school, Covid disrupted education for nearly all Gen Zers.
The shift to remote learning and virtual interaction fundamentally changed how young people build relationships—with peers, teachers, and institutions. For many, connection became mediated through screens, making it harder to form social bonds and a sense of belonging that schools and universities typically provide. At the same time, rates of anxiety, depression, and other mental health challenges rose sharply, as isolation, uncertainty, and disruption took their toll on developing brains.
These experiences also drastically altered how students show up to school. In many cases, this has translated into higher rates of chronic absenteeism, not simply as a matter of logistics, but as a reflection of deeper disengagement. When students feel disconnected, overwhelmed, or unsupported, showing up, both physically or mentally, becomes that much harder.
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So where do we go from here? If Gen Z’s challenges are, in part, a product of the systems we moved through, then schools have an opportunity—and a responsibility—to respond differently moving forward. That does not mean abandoning accountability, rigor, or high expectations, but it does mean rethinking how those priorities show up in students’ daily experiences.
First, schools should consider the role of assessments. While end-of-year tests and other assessments remain necessary, how teachers and schools talk about these tests to students and integrate them into their classrooms can change. While standardized scores do not typically carry direct consequences for students until high school, the tests did carry consequences for schools, districts and teachers. School ratings, public report cards, state interventions, and teacher evaluations and effectiveness are often all tied to test scores. When everything feels high-stakes, it often trickles down to the students, who learn to equate their worth with performance. Prioritizing growth is a key way to reduce the implications these tests have on the system. Revision, feedback, engagement, and learning for the sake of learning can also help rebuild a culture where learning is the main goal. Students need opportunities to take risks without fear that a single assessment will define them.
Second, school safety requires outside policy intervention, but schools can make small efforts to help their students. For example, access to school-based mental health professionals can help ensure students receive support consistently, rather than only in moments of crisis. At the same time, schools should actively include student voices in decisions about safety policies and practices, including rethinking how drills might be impacting student mental health. Finally, educators and school staff must feel equipped and supported with the training and resources needed not only to respond to emergencies, but to recognize warning signs.
Lastly, connection has to be treated as foundational, not some sort of “extra.” The disruption of the pandemic made clear how essential relationships are to learning. Re-engagement efforts, especially in response to chronic absenteeism, must go beyond compliance. If disengagement is rooted in disconnection, then solutions have to focus on rebuilding trust and community. Many schools have already begun to tackle this, engaging in creative efforts like creating tasks force that do home visits, or providing gas cards or other incentives to encourage attendance. Solutions should also include considering how to get students involved in extracurricular activities, especially prior to high school.
None of this is simple, and none of it is quick. But if we want to better understand Gen Z—and support the generations coming after us—we have to move beyond asking what’s “wrong” with students and start examining what they’ve been asked to navigate. The path forward begins there.
Next in this series we will turn to two other forces shaping our generation: the role of technology in how we learn and interact and the growing disconnect between how we were educated and what the workforce expects.
