A few months ago, I walked into the kitchen to find my mom staring at her phone, perplexed. She was scrolling through the Nextdoor app, trying to follow a tense argument about windows. Yes, windows. One neighbor was warning everyone to shut their windows to keep out bears while others were fiercely advocating for their right to do whatever they wanted. My mom and I both looked at each other, questioning just how neighborly Nextdoor is.

Nextdoor, a social networking app for neighborhoods, was originally described by board member Bill Gurley in 2011 as “different from other social networking sites because it was built from the ground up to help neighbors come together in a trusted environment.” My family consults the app often, with my parents usually aiming to understand how to deal with a local issue and my sister and I trying to reach out to neighbors to start a local tutoring business. The truth is, I really do want to build connections with my neighbors. However, when I’m on Nextdoor, I’m often overloaded by bickering between neighbors, information that doesn’t even apply to my area, and a tense digital environment. And, I’m not alone.

When I searched for others’ feelings towards the platform I came across comments about how, for some, Nextdoor has made them actively avoid their neighbors. This avoidance could be due to aspects like Nextdoor’s moderation model, which relies on volunteers who can apply bias to the process, and the concept of anonymity which has allowed for heated arguments over minor grievances, (like the window situation), without consequences. Also, the platform has an overwhelming number of advertisements, which has been seemingly ineffective for both local businesses who see minimal return from their paid ads and users annoyed by excessive advertisements on their feed.

However, the good news is people are starting to become aware of the importance of digital, connective spaces with neighbors. New Public, an organization reimagining digital conversations, has started designing Roundabout as an alternative to digital platforms like Facebook and Nextdoor. The platform’s aim is to connect individuals with immediate neighbors, creating communities of less than 50 people, where individuals can easily access information regarding various local events.

Mock-ups of Roundabout found on New_Public’s Substack

When New Public illustrated the thought-process behind their new platform, the team posed questions that touch on the fundamentals of digital spaces, like “Could part of the revenue generated go towards embedding local journalists to investigate the community’s most pressing questions? Could a local digital space link up with tools like Civic Sunlight that summarize long town hall meetings into bullet point takeaways? Could we make it easy for stewards to aggregate announcements and upcoming events from websites, newsletters, or other social feeds of local community organizations?”

Though Roundabout is still in its early stages, it will be interesting to see if this space has any impacts on our connection with our neighborhood communities. And, this conversation does highlight something important: healthy online spaces are key to healthy IRL communities! I mean, how much better would our communities be if neighbors notified each other about fun and impactful local events or sent out messages relating to safety? By immersing ourselves in digital platforms that emphasize our values, communities and support-systems can thrive!

Sprawled across our living room, my sister, dad, and I were engaged in heavy research, jotting down notes and exchanging insights to piece together the plot of one of the most confusing and rewarding movies I had watched in a long time: “The Rip.”

“The Rip,” a Netflix crime thriller starring Matt Damon and Ben Affleck, revolves around a narcotics team that discovers $20 million in cartel cash and must decide how to grapple with internal corruption and external threat. After my family selected “The Rip” for our Friday movie night, many of us started drifting to our phones, looking up only when action-packed moments tipped us towards the direction the film was headed.

However, at the end of the movie, all of us were surprisingly confused by the plot. We had caught the main events, yet unlike most action movies we watched nowadays, the bare bones of what had happened wasn’t enough.

Apparently, my experience is just what Netflix is attempting to change. As a guest on The Joe Rogan Experience, Matt Damon addressed the streaming platform’s increasingly common message to script writers: “and it wouldn’t be terrible if you reiterated the plot three or four times in the dialogue because people are on their phones while they’re watching.”

In an article written by The Guardian, the author drew attention to another instance of restating plot pieces in Lindsay Lohan’s film “Irish Wish” on Netflix. In the film, Lohan tells her lover: “I admit it was a beautiful day filled with dramatic vistas and romantic rain, but that doesn’t give you the right to question my life choices. Tomorrow, I’m marrying Paul Kennedy.” Here, Lohan reiterates a detail no one would actually include in everyday conversation, it’s clearly there to make sure even the most distracted viewer can follow along.

We can see similar emphasis on “casual watching” happening within social media platforms that are already capitalizing on shortened attention span. For instance, app researcher Alessandro Paluzzi highlighted how Instagram is experimenting with a “Short Drama” feature which would allow users to follow their favorite drama shows more easily. This development is building off of TikTok, which launched a Minis section in the app that shortens television episodes to align with TikTok’s short-form engagement.

So, with social media leaning even heavier on decreased attention span, is Netflix making the right call to shift from immersive and dynamic films to perfect “casual watching”? I argue not. Looking back to my experience watching “The Rip,” my moments of distraction and subsequent confusion were what I needed to rethink my film experience. As I reanalyzed the film with my sister and dad, this time watching parts all the way through, I recognized the pure genius and nuanced puzzles dispersed through the narrative and filmmaking, details which we too often overlook.

Now, I’m not saying we all need to become film critics, but I do think we need to start appreciating the adventure and patience necessary to deeply engage with movies. In Matt Damon’s words, leaning on restating plot points is “going to really start to infringe on how we’re telling these stories.” Film, after all, does have the ability to shift power-dynamics, question previous notions, and bring about meaningful change. So, here’s to putting our phones down, watching a film all the way through and tuning in to the moving stories that needed to be told.

The recent controversy around Grok’s image manipulation features has sparked an important conversation, one that goes far beyond a single AI tool or company. When artificial intelligence systems can alter images of real people without their consent, we’re forced to ask: who gets to decide what AI is allowed to do, and whose voices matter in that decision?

Grok, an AI chatbot, drew significant backlash for features that allowed users to create and manipulate images in ways that raised serious concerns about consent and safety. The response on social media was swift, with many users (particularly young women) sharing their concerns about how such tools could be misused. But here’s what makes this moment significant: this isn’t about one feature or one company. It’s about a pattern we keep seeing in AI development where technical capability races ahead of ethical consideration.

Think about it this way: just because we can build something doesn’t mean we should. Yet in AI development, there’s often a massive gap between what’s technically possible and what’s been carefully thought through in terms of real-world impact.

When image manipulation tools are released without robust safeguards, it’s not an accident or an oversight. It represents choices made throughout the development process:

• Choices about what to prioritize in development timelines

• Choices about which risks to assess and which to downplay

• Choices about whose safety concerns get heard and acted upon

• Choices about what’s “good enough” when it comes to preventing harm

Here’s a question worth sitting with: when AI tools are released with inadequate safeguards, who typically experiences the harm first and most severely?

The answer, consistently, tends to be marginalized communities, particularly young women and girls. Non-consensual image manipulation, deepfakes, and similar technologies disproportionately target these groups. This isn’t random. It reflects existing power dynamics in our society that get amplified and accelerated by technology.

When we talk about “AI harm,” we’re not talking about abstract technical failures. We’re talking about real people whose images, identities, and sense of safety are compromised.

So whose job is it to prevent this harm?

• Developers and companies build the tools and decide what features to include, what guardrails to implement, and when something is “ready” to release to the public.

• Platform leaders set the culture and priorities that determine whether safety is treated as essential or as an afterthought that might slow down innovation.

• Policymakers and regulators establish (or fail to establish) the rules and standards that companies must follow.

• Investors and stakeholders influence priorities through what they choose to fund and reward.

But here’s what often gets overlooked: all of us as users and community members have a role in holding these systems accountable. When we stay silent about harmful features, when we accept “that’s just how tech works” as an answer, we’re participating in a system that prioritizes speed over safety.

You might wonder: if the risks are this clear, why do ethical safeguards so consistently lag behind technical capability? A few patterns emerge.

• Speed over safety: In competitive markets, there’s pressure to ship features quickly. Safety testing and ethical review can feel like they slow things down.

• Homogeneous decision-making: When the people building AI don’t reflect the diversity of people who’ll be affected by it, crucial perspectives and concerns get missed.

• Outsourcing ethics: Sometimes ethical considerations are treated as a separate department’s problem rather than integrated into every stage of development.

• Assuming good faith: There’s often an assumption that users will use tools responsibly, even when evidence consistently shows otherwise.

If you’re a young person navigating digital spaces, this matters to you directly. The AI tools being built right now will shape your world (your opportunities, your privacy, your safety) for years to come.

But here’s the empowering part: you don’t have to passively accept the systems being built for you. Your voice matters. Your concerns are valid. Your experiences with these technologies hold crucial information about what’s working and what’s not.

When you:

• Question why certain features exist

• Push back on tools that make you feel unsafe

• Share your experiences with harmful content

• Demand better from the platforms you use

...you’re participating in the essential work of shaping what AI becomes.

As AI continues to develop at a rapid pace, here are some questions we should all be asking:

• About new features: Who benefits from this? Who might be harmed? What safeguards are in place?

• About companies: Is safety integrated into development from the start, or added afterward? Are diverse voices included in decision-making?

• About ourselves: Are we holding platforms accountable, or accepting harmful features as inevitable?

• About policy: What standards should exist? How do we balance innovation with protection?

At #HalftheStory, we believe digital wellbeing isn’t just about screen time or social media breaks. It’s about examining the systems and structures that shape our digital experiences, and recognizing that those systems aren’t inevitable. They’re the result of choices.

When AI tools are built without adequate consideration for consent, safety, and dignity, that’s not a technical problem. It’s a values problem. And values can change when enough people demand it.

The question “Who decides what AI is allowed to do?” doesn’t have a simple answer. But increasingly, the answer needs to include: all of us, especially those most affected by these technologies.

What do you think? How have you seen AI tools impact your digital well-being or sense of safety online? Your perspective matters in this conversation.

In eighth grade, I wrote my first ever article for the journalism unit about teens, phones, and mental health. It was the first time I realized how quickly technology shapes our behavior, even when adults may not fully understand the consequences. Years later, the debate has only grown more complicated, and the policies meant to “fix” it often create new problems of their own.

Policies create ripple effects: cultural, behavioral, and ethical. Sometimes those effects matter more than the policy’s stated goal. Australia’s under‑16 ban illustrates this, revealing a lot about how societies attempt to regulate teen life.

While the law sounds strict, enforcement may be uneven in practice. “The New Yorker” article shared data, “At the same time, less than half of the Australian public believes the ban will be effective—and, according to a recent poll published in the Sydney Morning Herald, fewer than a third of parents plan to enforce the ban in their households, by deleting the relevant apps off their children’s phone.” That gap between intention and belief is the first sign that the policy’s real impact won’t come from enforcement, but from the message it sends.

Many teens will still find ways around it. The article gives concrete examples that show how quickly young people adapt to restrictions, “What this means is that many young people will be able to get around the bans, for example by using virtual private networks, or V.P.N.s, which can make an internet user appear to be in a different country.” This isn’t just about loopholes. It’s about how teens respond when adults legislate their online lives without fully understanding how the internet works.

Even so, laws can shift norms even when they don’t fully work. The article makes this point directly, saying “... the social norm established by the law and its robust popularity among politicians and voters will lead to a significant downturn in social-media use by minors nonetheless.” This is the heart of the argument: the cultural ripple matters more than the rule itself.

That shift, not the rule, becomes the real byproduct. It’s the kind of change that happens slowly, through expectations and habits, not through fines or punishments. The article also argues that adults need to change their own digital habits. This is a crucial point, because teen behavior doesn’t exist in a vacuum, after all, “we all need to put down the phones.” The piece makes it clear that adult inconsistency weakens any policy aimed at kids. If parents and teachers can’t model healthier digital lives, the rules will always feel hypocritical. This debate sparks a broader cultural movement: schools tightening phone rules, parents pushing back, communities rethinking norms.

These aren’t isolated reactions. They’re signs of a national shift in how people think about youth, attention, and technology. The piece describes this as a wider pushback around youth phone use, “The signs of this quiet revolution…are already all around us.”

It’s not loud or dramatic. It’s slow, local, and driven by everyday frustration with how much time kids spend online.

Because we’re the ones immersed in these apps, teens often become the first to adjust our behavior and push back against how addictive they are. That quiet self‑regulation usually happens long before adults or lawmakers notice.

Welcome to Digital Wellness Unwrapped, Half the Story’s spin on Spotify Wrapped! We’ve been breaking down the top brainrot words, internet trends, and big tech moments that defined 2025. For our final installment, we’re diving into the Top 5 Internet Trends of the year and what they say about how we’re connecting right now.

1. Feminist Literature Meets Performative Male Competitions

This one caught everyone off guard. Feminist literature absolutely exploded on BookTok while, simultaneously, men started competing in increasingly over-the-top challenges to prove their masculinity. We’re talking college campuses hosting “how long can you carry your girlfriend” contests while bell hooks and Roxane Gay went viral on the same platform.

Here’s the wild part: these opposite movements actually started real conversations. TikTok comment sections turned into unexpected places for debates about toxic masculinity and feminism. Parks became gathering spots where people showed up to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Somehow, the contrast made both trends more interesting.

2. “Alexander, Come Back to Sleep” Returns

Hamilton turned 10 this year and had a cast reunion, which meant the internet had to bring back its favourite audio. “Alexander, come back to sleep” soundtracked everything from couple content to chaotic friend groups, and honestly? It felt good.

This trend was basically Gen Z and Millennials finding common ground. A shared reference that made nostalgia feel current again. It’s proof that some things just stick around in our collective digital memory and pop back up when we need them.

3. Lookalike Competitions Take Over

Spring 2025 = lookalike competition season. It started with a Timothée Chalamet doppelgänger contest in New York and spiraled into citywide events for Harry Styles, Zendaya, you name it. Timothée even showed up to his own lookalike contest, which was peak internet chaos.

But let’s be real, these weren’t actually about finding perfect lookalikes. They were excuses to get outside and do something silly with strangers who were in on the joke. In a time when it’s genuinely hard to build community, these competitions gave people permission to just... show up and have fun. Social media coordinating ways to get off social media. Kind of perfect.

4. Aura Farming Goes Global

One teenager in Indonesia posted videos with this unbothered, confident energy, and suddenly everyone was “aura farming.” The format got copied thousands of times, some genuine, some totally ironic, but all of it worked.

What’s cool about this trend is how it shows the internet can still amplify random voices. No industry connections, no production budget, just someone being themselves, and it resonates worldwide. Gen Z and Gen Alpha care way more about that authentic energy than they do about traditional celebrity polish. This trend proved it.

5. Charli XCX and MORE Brat

In the summer of 2024 Charli XCX dropped Brat, and the entire internet went lime green. But “Brat summer” wasn’t just an aesthetic; it was a whole vibe about being messy and not having everything together that carried well into 2025. Permission to be chaotic, try things, and embrace your imperfect self. That’s soooo brat.

This resonated because everyone’s tired of the perfect curated feed. Brat summer said, “Actually, it’s cool to be a mess.” That vulnerability packaged as confidence hit different for a generation exhausted by performing online, which is evident in its longevity!

What We’re Noticing

Looking at all five trends together, there’s a clear thread: 2025’s viral moments were about connection. Gathering in parks, sharing nostalgic references, and embracing authenticity over perfection. Social media actually bonded communities this year, even bridged some generational gaps (even when we didn’t totally get each other’s humour).

Gen Z and Gen Alpha spent 2025 gravitating toward authenticity and new experiences. Less polished content, less performance, more real moments. We’re using digital spaces to find each other and then actually meet up IRL. The best trends this year were the ones that got us off our phones.

What Would You Add?

These are our top 5, but there’s definitely more. What trends defined your year? What made you feel connected? What made you actually leave your house?

Drop your thoughts in the comments or tag us on Instagram and TikTok. Digital Wellness Unwrapped is all about reflecting on how we use technology, and we want to hear what mattered to you this year.

Thanks for joining us for Digital Wellness Unwrapped 2025. This wraps up our series breaking down the year in internet culture and digital wellness.

This year we saw the rise of a lot of new Brainrot terms. Many of them went viral, causing worldwide success, and the mix between the digital world into the real world.

67

You knew it was coming. 67, the term that no one seemed to know where it came from, but took the word by storm. It originates from an edit on Tiktok of the famous NBA player, Lamelo Ball, using the song “Doot Doot (6 7)” by Skrilla. Since Lamelo Ball is 6’7”ft tall, and the song was catchy enough to become a funny Tiktok, it went viral, and soon enough you couldn’t go a single day without hearing someone say “6 7”. Even though most people who know about the term don’t even know its origins, that didn’t stop the spread of the trend! With the 67 trend, we really got to see how digital culture can spread in person, and make for weird but funny moments with people of all generations coming to use the term.

Rage Bait

A term that snuck up on us, but still so prevalent, is “Rage Bait”. As seen as early as 2002, Rage Bait is the term for content online that is meant to elicit an angry response from the viewer, as the angry response typically means it will receive more engagement. Although this term originated from online trolling, it now has further grown into usage in real life, where rage bait can be when someone is messing with another person, trying to garner a response from them. Rage Bait has been used so much in conversation that the Oxford word of 2025 is Rage Bait.

Italian Brainrot

When you picture true brainrot, you probably think of this term. Italian Brainrot captured a lot of attention this year, with its nonsensical characters, lore, and humor. The true origins of this term is generally fuzzy, but most sources agree that it started in 2023 when internet users made Ai-generated memes of American actor and wrestler Dwanye Johnson saying “Tralaleo Tralala”(the original video is taken down, but from this user). In early 2025, this quietly but surely became so popular until you couldn’t go on TikTok or Instagram without hearing about the silly Italian characters. These videos are typically narrated in an Ai-generated Italian man’s voice, but when translated is often meaningless.

Jet2Holiday

Who would have guessed that a 2024 advertisement for the airline Jet2 would end up becoming a full-on brainrot term? But yes, Jet2Holiday made the list because of the massive wave of memes that came with it. Although the exact origins are unclear, the trend really took off when people began posting “fail videos” set against the overly happy, upbeat remix of the Jet2Holiday ad. The contrast between the cheerful vacation energy and clips of absolute mess is what made the trend so funny and why the sound got stuck in everyone’s head as it spread everywhere.

Flow State

Our last term on the list, but also the newest one; Flow State. The state where people are ‘locked in’ or so focused on the task at hand they can’t be distracted by anything else. This term was actually coined by psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihaly. It is the idea that deep focus boots happiness, which is exactly what this trend is all about. It’s very interesting how one of the biggest TikTok trends to come out of the second half of 2025 can be explained by a real psychological concept! The trend is generally a positive one, with users (often comedically) showing what routines and events allow them to “reach flow state”, and it looks like this trend will continue into the new year.

All of these terms show just how quickly trends can take off, and how the more people interact with something online, the more likely it is to spill into everyday life. This constant reinvention highlights the reality of 2025: our online lives are no longer separate from our offline ones. The internet does not just reflect culture anymore. It actively creates it, influencing everything from the humor we use with friends to the way we speak in everyday life.

What else would you add to this list? Come back next week for our Top 5 Digital Wellness in Pop Culture Moments!

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Some weeks ago, the White House announced an upcoming executive order that aims to deregulate artificial intelligence. If signed, the EO will target states for passing transparency laws and other limitations on AI.

As a teen and digital wellness advocate, I am personally concerned for the consequences of this executive order. I believe the draft EO will only restrict efforts to make AI safer for young people and the public as a whole.

As Artificial intelligence has become more ubiquitous, so too have the negative consequences of intensive AI usage. These consequences are considerable: from damaging our critical thinking skills to exacerbating mental health issues.

Over the past year, I’ve watched my school district scramble to limit AI usage in classrooms. Some teachers have banned it entirely, others have cautiously integrated it into their lessons. Most students and teachers will agree, however, that AI is still uncharted territory. I believe that as AI models improve, safeguards for users must improve as well. This is especially true for young people.

Adolescence is a crucial period for brain development, according to The American Psychological Association. This, in tandem with the fact that young people make up the majority of AI users, means that youths are especially vulnerable.

This is no hypothetical. AI is already affecting the physical, mental and social wellbeing of my generation. Research has shown that consistent AI use can erode students’ abilities to critically evaluate information. More and more teens are turning to AI for guidance and friendship, with as many as 50% of teens using AI companions regularly. This is extremely alarming, as AI chatbots are ill-equipped to provide mental health advice and companionship.

Moreover, there have been multiple cases of AI companies using the data of minor children to train their AI models. Last year, Meta admitted to using photos of children to train their AI models without obtaining consent from their families. While there has been some legislation passed to stop this exploitation, it has been relatively minimal.

All of these examples and more indicate an immutable truth: when it comes to protecting young people from the negative consequences of AI development, we still have a long way to go.

In order to protect the interests of young people, we need to encourage regulations on AI – not discourage them. By punishing AI regulation, the upcoming executive order will only stagnate the development of AI, and harm young people in the process.

We all have that one game from our childhood we will never forget. For me, this was Subway Surfers; it was satisfying to play and a bit addicting. Now, in 2025, we’re seeing a generation that’s playing it in real life— and while the app is free in the app store, a new way of playing it is not. In the last few years it has cost over 15 lives.

Fortune recently reported on the story of 15-year-old Ka’Von Wooden, who tragically lost his life after climbing onto the roof of a moving train in Brooklyn and falling onto an incoming track. Ka’Von acted upon a video he saw on social media, the trend known as “Subway Surfing” in real life. The Metropolitan Transportation Authority (MTA) reported that 300,000 New York City school children use the subway to get to and from school each day. MTA allegedly asked social media companies to take down videos glamorizing subway surfing, reporting earlier this year in June that in 2025 alone, more than 1,800 videos had been taken down.

Despite this effort, the Fortune shared the New York Police Department reported an increase of arrests of alleged subway surfers rising from 135 to 229 last year, most identifying as boys, with an average age of around 14, the youngest being only nine years old. This is something that ties to the psychological phenomenon of groupthink. When a trend goes viral, people often follow what others are doing without questioning the risks. Essentially, likes, shares, and comments act like social rewards, reinforcing participation even in unsafe behavior. Fear of missing out (FOMO) or being excluded pushes people to join in, even if they feel it’s dangerous.

We may think, “This would never be me,”, or, “Not my child.” Unfortunately, this is something that can occur to anyone—something that should have been preventable—and it ties back to the dangers of social media and the ways in which big tech prioritizes profit over people. It is one thing for content like this to be created. It’s another for platforms—such as the well-known Instagram or TikTok—to do little to regulate what content reaches its users, especially its most vulnerable users.

As a busy college student, I was ecstatic when fall break rolled around. After I spent the first two months at school busy with coursework, extracurriculars, and getting back into the swing of academic life… I was absolutely exhausted. Safe to say, going home for fall break, (even though for just a few days), gave me a much-needed reset.

It was on the train home from school that I got the idea: what if I deleted TikTok and Instagram until I got back? Now, this idea isn’t revolutionary: I, along with many others, routinely delete social media apps to help with productivity. What made this experience different though was that it wasn’t motivated by a desire for productivity. . Usually, I end up deleting TikTok or Instagram when I need to focus on work, as the easily-scrollable content distracts me from it. Maybe I have a paper due, maybe a quiz is tomorrow, or maybe I’m not paying attention in class. This time, however, I had none of those things. A week of study-free, essay-free relaxation awaited me: why delete now?

It comes down to the goals I set going into fall break: read more, think about others less, and spend quality time with loved ones. Here’s how they worked out.

Read more. This goal didn’t go exactly as planned… but it wasn’t too bad. Here’s what happened. Firstly, I didn’t read much. The books I brought home with me might have been a little too ambitious, or I might have just not felt like putting my eyes to the page over break, but regardless, I didn’t meet this goal. What I did notice, however, was a change in the type of content that I did consume. I still used technology a lot, but instead of scrolling on reels for hours, I supplemented that with longer, more meaningful viewing. Movies with friends, the TV show my mom loves, long video essays on YouTube explaining a country’s origin or debunking a common myth. Though I definitely used technology for a large portion of my break, the feeling was different, and it felt better. More informative, more substantive, and less addictive.

Think about others less. It’s easy to get lost in your own head sometimes. In an era where people are more connected than ever before via social media, online content can often have a negative effect on one’s self-esteem. By deleting Instagram and Tiktok, (the apps which most directly connected me to the latest fads and social constructs surrounding identity), I noticed I spent less time comparing myself to others and more time doing what I enjoyed. My break, without the constant whirrings of persuasive media, allowed me to seek answers inside myself and confide in those around me, rather than listen to a person on a screen.

Spend quality time with loved ones. This was by far the best and most refreshing change. From thrifting with my mom, to getting dinner with my closest friends, less screen time meant more opportunity for connection: something that is always welcome, and almost always beneficial.

So there you have it! Deleting shortform content over a break rather than just when you need to be productive might sound backwards, it definitely improved my leisure in ways I never thought about before. Often, we tend to use social media as a reward for being productive. After all, the dopamine released when online can wire one’s brain to view it as a reward, and encourage its use for longer and longer. Though I, too, enjoy a light scroll on TikTok during my downtime, it’s always something to keep in moderation. The next time you find yourself on a break from whatever it is you work on, I encourage you to consider putting shortform content aside; it might make your time away even more rewarding.

Everyone keeps saying AI will make life easier. But scrolling through LinkedIn, Instagram, or TikTok lately, it doesn’t really feel that way. The word layoff shows up more often than any of us would like. People are losing jobs, the economy feels uncertain, and while there are many reasons behind it, one thing people keep pointing to, sometimes jokingly, fearfully, is AI.

It used to be a distant idea, something for tech articles and startups. Now it’s quietly reshaping our everyday life. AI writes essays, helps people generate artwork, assists in design, and even edits videos. Online, you see talk of “AI-proof careers,” personal branding as a survival strategy, and often, the phrase jobpocalypse. It almost sounds like a meme, a fear wrapped in irony. But it feels real.

And for those of us who haven’t even entered the workforce yet, it’s terrifying. We’re supposed to be dreaming big, choosing majors, building portfolios, but how do you plan a career in a world where even creativity feels replaceable?

When I scroll social media, I see people saying, “CS (computer science) grads are cooked,” “designers are done,” “marketing is over.” At first glance, it seems over the top. But beneath the surface, there’s a deeper question: do the very skills we were encouraged to develop— creativity, innovation, and critical thinking— still matter when machines can replicate them in seconds?

That’s not just fear of losing jobs. It’s the fear of losing meaning.

Growing up, many of us were told to follow our passions, that creativity was one thing machines could never touch. We were encouraged to think differently, to innovate, to bring fresh perspectives. Now, those same qualities feel vulnerable. When an AI can generate a logo in thirty seconds or write a marketing campaign in minutes, what does it mean to be creative? When algorithms can analyse data faster than any analyst, what does it mean to be smart?

The goalposts keep moving. We’re the generation that was told to learn coding because that’s the future. Now, coding assistants write entire functions with a single prompt. We were told to develop soft skills, to be irreplaceable through human connection. But chatbots are handling customer service, therapy apps are offering emotional support, and AI is even conducting job interviews.

When I talk with my own friends, the fear and fascination mingle. One says she’s reconsidering studying graphic design; another is pouring hours into learning prompt engineering. Someone else jokes about becoming a plumber because “AI can’t fix a toilet.” We debate whether to lean into AI or rebel against it. We don’t want to lose what makes our work ours.

The uncertainty affects how we see ourselves. There’s a constant pressure to pivot, to stay relevant, to be adaptable. But adaptability has its limits. You can only reinvent yourself so many times before you wonder what’s left of the original you.

It’s hard to watch older generations dismiss our concerns with phrases like “every generation fears new technology” or “adapt or get left behind.” Yes, technology has always disrupted labour. But the speed and scale feel different now. Previous technological shifts created new industries, new roles, and new possibilities. This time, it’s not clear what those new roles will be or if there will be enough of them.

The question isn’t whether we’ll be replaced, but whether we’ll let our value be defined by what machines can’t replicate. AI can write, but it doesn’t understand context, nuance, or emotional weight. It can generate images, but it doesn’t explain why beauty moves us. It can analyse patterns, but it doesn’t carry lived experience.

We are still the ones who bring meaning to what’s made, the flaws, the choices, the soul. AI creates outputs. We create with intention. There’s a difference between something that works and something that resonates, between efficiency and empathy, between processing information and understanding it.

Perhaps being part of this generation means learning how to hold both truths: acknowledging the real threat AI poses to traditional pathways while refusing to reduce our value to productivity metrics. It means finding ways to stay human in systems designed for optimisation. It means building resilience not just through skills, but through community, creativity, and connection.

The jobpocalypse isn’t coming; it’s already here, unfolding in real time. But it doesn’t have to define us. We can choose to engage with AI critically, to use it as a tool rather than let it use us. We can choose to value work that machines can’t measure: care, nuance, ethical judgment, cultural understanding.

We can also choose to advocate for change, for policies that protect workers, for education systems that prepare us for uncertainty, for conversations about what kind of future we actually want to build.

This is our story too. How does the jobpocalypse make you feel: scared, hopeful, or somewhere in between?

Picture this: You wake up, grab your phone, and instantly feel... nothing. The same endless scroll, the same hollow dopamine hits that leave you feeling empty. Things can feel distant and boring, as if the colours and light you once saw are being drained away by an invisible force.

Sounds familiar?

I’ve been having this conversation with friends and family, and I’m hearing a similar thing: things are feeling less exciting, and it feels like we’re living in a collective fog. I’m wondering: is this a symptom of growing up, the world changing, or the glowing rectangle in our hands? Your phone promises connection, but often delivers isolation. It offers unlimited entertainment, but leaves you bored. It feels like having a dementor as a pocket companion, slowly but surely sucking life out of daily experiences.

At first, I thought it might just be me, but then I realised that the World Wide Web, formerly built to inspire and keep us in awe, is now sucking that very same inspiration out of me. If we’re scrolling more than we’re walking, and with rapid AI development and brain rot becoming more apparent, it makes sense that many of us are feeling bored, full, and too aware all at the same time.

I often notice that for me, there’s a weird fog that settles in after hours of scrolling. I see this in my peers too: a glazed-over look that flashes when we’re all sitting, technically together, but somehow still miles apart, buried in our individual digital bubbles. It’s like we might have become so used to constant stimulation that regular life can feel... flat.

What I’ve noticed in myself isn’t all in my head. We have data that reflects this “digital fog.” The average American now spends 4 hours and 37 minutes a day on their phone. A CDC study found that half of teenagers (50.4%) rack up more than four hours of screen time daily. It makes me think, how much time are we losing to our glowing rectangles?

The impact shows up in the data...A study cited by the U.S. Surgeon General found that kids and teens who spend more than three hours a day on social media are twice as likely to report depression or anxiety symptoms. According to Social Media Explorer, 10th-grade girls, nearly a quarter, are on social media seven hours or more every single day.

It’s easy to blame ourselves and think we are weak for not putting the phone down. But the truth is that Big Tech companies used persuasive design to make these devices “sticky” and hard to put down. These platforms use persuasive design: infinite scrolls, notifications, algorithm tweaks, all engineered to keep us engaged. Our attention has become valuable, and these systems are built to hold onto it.

We, as young people, want to choose our own entertainment. We want products that maximise well-being, not time spent on a screen. Yet we often find ourselves caught in slot-machine apps designed to keep us scrolling. The result is a generation with endless options but searching for meaning.

In my own friend group, social media can feel more like a chore than a connection. We’re all taking “breaks” from it, but somehow we always end up back. WHO research found that more than 1 in 10 adolescents show signs of problematic social media behaviour, struggling to control their use and experiencing negative consequences.

Meanwhile, Pew Research shows 34% of teen girls say social media platforms make them feel worse about their own lives, compared with 20% of boys. As they are designed now, these platforms are making us feel worse about our realities, instead of creating opportunities for us to connect with each other.

Apps like Mozi are aimed to address this. According to 9to5Mac: “The primary value proposition of Mozi is simple: It lets you know when you’re going to be in the same place as someone you know. The goal is straightforward: to connect more often - and in person - with the people you care about.”

Here’s the thing about dementors in Harry Potter - they weren’t invincible. You could fight them off with a Patronus, which required focusing on your happiest, most meaningful memories. Our digital dementors can be fought off, too, but it requires something similar: reconnecting with what actually brings us joy and meaning.

I’ve started experimenting with what I call “Patronus moments” – times when I deliberately put my phone away and do something that makes me feel alive. Sometimes it’s as simple as having a real conversation with a friend, going for a walk without headphones, or actually finishing a book instead of abandoning it for TikTok.

The video Why Nothing Feels Exciting Anymore by Johnny Harris explores this exact phenomenon - why so many people, especially young adults, feel disconnected, overstimulated, and yet underwhelmed by life. The boredom Harris talks about isn’t our enemy - it’s our brain’s way of saying “hey, you need something more meaningful than this endless scroll.” When we immediately reach for our phones every time we feel bored, we’re basically telling our brain to shut up and accept the digital noise.

The dementors in our pockets are powerful, but they’re not the whole story. This is exactly what we’re doing at #HalfTheStory.

#HalfTheStory’s mission is to empower the next generation’s relationship with social media through advocacy, education, and access to resources for youth. For the past ten years, it’s been leading the charge as the first youth-led non-profit of its kind, focusing on progressing education and advocacy work surrounding social media and tech use.

Through our evidence-based Social Media U program, we’re teaching young people across schools in the US and Canada skills for healthier relationships with their screens, not by demonising technology, but by helping them understand how it works and what it’s designed to do.

The life those digital dementors are draining? It’s still there. Sometimes we just need to remember where to look for it, and that might look different for everyone.

What made you feel truly present the last time you put your phone down? What would it feel like to have more of those moments?

The magic is still there. The question is: where do you find yours?

Tote bag. Book. Matcha. Headphones. Sweater. Can you tell where I’m going with this?

Recently, the Performative Male Trend has taken social media by storm. If you don’t already know, here’s a quick definition: Teen Vogue describes the performative male as “a man defined by how carefully he curates his clothes, tastes, and even political values all in the name of clout.” The trend cracks down on those presenting an inaccurate image of themselves to the public, rather than being authentic.

A few days ago, I met up with a friend. He was wearing a sweater, a satchel, and was holding a copy of Plato’s Dialogues. I immediately poked fun at his performative getup, but his confidence in how he presented himself, (and his remark of “I bought this bag before the trend happened”), made me start thinking: “Is this stereotype something to be avoided?”

With the semester kicking into overdrive, everyone on my college’s campus seems to be drowning in readings for class. In a conversation I had with someone else, he expressedhis hesitation to do his readings in public. “I don’t want to seem performative, but it’s literally for class.” Although it started as a way to poke fun at inauthenticity, it seems like the emerging trend has started to make ordinary people fear being perceived as performative.

Over the past twenty years, the percentage of people who read for fun has declined by 40%. This decline is often studied within the context of the rise of social media use, especially among teens, with some sources pointing to the modern teen’s usage of social media to be about 5 hours a day. This 5 hours of social media doesn’t even include the time spent using tech to communicate, do work or schoolwork, or consume other forms of content. It’s easy to notice a pattern between social media and the way today’s youth enjoys their time.

While social media trends can be fun to participate in, it’s important not to take them too seriously. I realized this after I saw how reading—something I love to do—became interwoven with the concept of performance. With the massive hold technology has on today’s teens, there shouldn’t be anything embarrassing about getting outside, grabbing a treat (maybe even a matcha), and sitting down with a good book. It seems social media urges teens not to enjoy themselves, but rather to stay inside and keep using social media.

Social media can often act as an echo chamber, making one think that certain things are uncool or embarrassing. However, by putting your phone down, taking a breather, and reconnecting with the outside world, it becomes increasingly clear how few eyes are actually on you in public. The next time you feel like reading at a cafe, or listening to music outside, or grabbing a fun drink with a friend, try to remember that the ideas you see online are just that: online.

So go get that Matcha, crack open that book, and put on a cozy fall sweater. I’m sure no one around you will mind, and I bet you’ll enjoy the much needed break from the internet.

For many people, there are shows they watched growing up that evokes overwhelming feelings of nostalgia. For me, that show was Dance Moms. As a young dancer, discovering a show centered around dancers my age, set just a state over, hooked me immediately. It became my gateway into reality TV.

At that time, I was quite young, and the show felt like the perfect form of entertainment. I would laugh, dance, and mimic almost everything I saw on screen. Dance Moms was one of the first reality TV shows that prompted me to dive deeper into the genre from TLC's Dr. Pimple Popper and Our Family's Crazy Life to Bravo's Real Housewives and Peacock's Love Island. I've probably watched nearly every single show in the Housewives franchise.

Watching reality shows became a form of escapism. I found that many scripted shows were highly produced and heavily edited, and I craved something that felt authentic, something that featured real people who weren't acting, or at least that's how I perceived it. I was also genuinely interested in the psychology and sociology behind these shows: how reality TV reflects interpersonal conflicts, friendships, and relationship dynamics. I would always view these programs through a sociological lens, analyzing the human behavior unfolding on screen.

Then the time of TikTok arrived, and I started seeing videos claiming that "the smartest person you know watches reality TV." I found that quite validating for me it meant, someone was acknowledging that there might be more depth to this guilty pleasure than people assumed.

I initially didn't consider the impact that being on a reality show had on the young girls featured on Dance Moms. Instead, I thought it was fascinating and wanted to explore more reality shows. After watching Dance Moms, my opinions completely changed after listening to Maddie Ziegler on Emily Ratajkowski's podcast, High Low with EmRata.

Maddie talked about how her mother, Melissa Gisoni, apologized for the tough experiences they had while on the show. Ziegler said, "Last year, I was having a really bad panic attack and I called my mom, and things were coming up from the past, and she apologized to me. She was like, 'I'm so sorry I put you through that.'"

Then summer arrived, and I found myself unable to escape one thing that brought me a strange sense of fascination: this season of Love Island. It was everywhere—think pieces were being published, memes were being created, and brands were incorporating it into their marketing campaigns. You couldn't escape the buzz surrounding this season.

What surprised me the most was seeing middle schoolers talking about it and hearing coworkers discuss it at the coffee bar. Curiosity got the better of me, and I decided to watch the new season. As soon as I did, I began to think about how this experience would affect the contestants once they left the villa. What was their mental state like during the show, and how would it change afterward? It didn’t take long to find proof of the serious issue of cyberbullying against reality TV contestants. The online harassment directed at the contestants of Love Island had gotten so bad that the show's producers had to publicly appeal to fans to stop.

These questions led me to look into the psychological impact of reality TV, and I discovered some troubling truths about what happens behind the scenes. As I researched this topic, I came across valuable advice from Isabelle Morley, Psy.D., author of "A Plea to Viewers of Reality Dating Shows" in Psychology Today.

Her message really hit home for me as I was considering these same concerns about reality TV. What she's asking viewers to do isn't complicated. She states that viewers can keep enjoying these shows, but watch them more thoughtfully. Yes, you're seeing real people, but the storylines are heavily manufactured and often misleading. But here's the most important part: if you end up hating someone you see on screen, keep it to yourself. Don't slide into their DMs with your opinions.

It’s important to remember that words matter and that there are real humans with feelings just like us behind the editing. So, take a moment to pause and choose compassion and kindness. If you feel compelled to reach out to contestants, choose the ones you liked and send them some love instead. At the end of the day, there are real human beings with real feelings behind all that editing.

Many people joke around about careers being taken over by AI, but is it becoming a reality? Recently, Duolingo replaced at least 10% of its staff with AI, a movement labeled an AI-first approach. For those who don’t know what Duolingo is, it’s an educational app aimed to help improve language proficiency and learn new languages. Duolingo has a large following base – partially due to its creative social media team and persuasive tactics to attract users (streaks, scores, leaderboards, etc). Recently, Duolingo has been making headlines after it announced its shift to an AI-first company, and there have been mixed responses to the decision.

Duolingo isn’t replacing all its staff, but the roles in which AI can work more effectively. Last year, 10% of contractors were cut. Notably, CEO Luis Von Ahn says that the AI-first approach is also to ensure that workers are able to focus on more creative and problem-solving work rather than repetitive tasks. One of the central goals for Duolingo’s switch to becoming AI-first is to create a “massive amount of content” and create a more productive work environment. It seems this goal is being met—Duolingo’s AI created 148 new courses in a single year, a task that previously took a small team several years to accomplish.

One thing about AI educators – it offers large amounts of accessible educational content. Duolingo won’t be the first company to use AI to educate children. According to the New York Times, Sal Khan, the Chief Executive of Khan Academy, predicted that chatbots may be teaching our children. Sundar Pichai, Google's chief executive, believes that, over time, children around the world, regardless of where they are, will have access to the most powerful AI-tutor. Mr. Pichai donated more than $10 million to Khan Academy.

According to some big tech companies, AI-powered education may just be the next step towards educational access. However, it’s a movement that comes with trade-offs. According to Harvard Business School, technology that is created to assist workers has often, throughout history, reduced the need for them .

Duolingo going AI First is one example of what the future of AI and the workforce might look like. More than ever, it’s important that we as students and future employees, discuss and educate each other about AI ethics.

This past week at HalfTheStory’s Digital Civics Academy, we heard from many passionate teens about AI in the classroom. Some great points were brought up, but one that stuck with me the most is that AI will not just disappear, we have to learn how to grow with it. The solution isn’t to ban AI but to educate each other on how AI can be used ethically and safely.

With efforts to improve its platform, AI provided Duolingo the opportunity to create material faster. Maybe AI can help future workplaces increase productivity and outcomes, but the future is unclear. This leaves the question of how future workplaces may look and how society will respond. Will society adapt? What regulations will be placed?

The best purchases are usually the ones that lead us back to the basics. And even with new iPhone models and crazy developments in AI, sometimes all we crave is a BlackBerry. That’s right– the phone that hit the stage in the early 2000s has made a comeback, at least in the minds of Gen Z.

All across TikTok, Gen Z users have started romanticizing the BlackBerry era, even though many of us weren’t old enough to have one. Though the love of Y2K fashion and aesthetics has long been established on social media, 2000s tech had never had a prominent place among these communities. After all, there is something a little ironic about wanting a phone that doesn’t let you install TikTok, the very app you glamorize the device on. But, many TikTok videos have connected the BlackBerry phone to the tangible feeling of vinyls and Polaroid pictures. And with the love of older tech flourishing on TikTok, the underlying theme of “nostalgic tech,” which refers to the revival of older technologies bringing back feelings of simplicity and ease, has started to become more prominent. In an interview with The New York Times, 25-year-old Victoria Zannino emphasized the iconic nature of nostalgic tech, exclaiming, “Growing up watching ‘Keeping Up With The Kardashians,’ seeing them driving with one hand on the wheel and a BlackBerry in the other hand was just such a slay of a moment.”

And, maybe the resurgence in demand for a BlackBerry and nostalgic tech isn’t just motivated by the Y2K style, but also overwhelm and stress from the rapidly evolving role tech plays in all of our lives. Dan Kassim, a 29-year-old writer, illustrated how “people are kind of burned out from the notifications and being always on, and BlackBerrys and early smartphones feel like a bit of a throwback to when phones were tools but not, like, the center of your life.”

Similarly, Gen Z has taken action in other ways to show that simplicity and IRL connection - not social media and screens - should be front and center in all of our lives. Recently, 24-year-old Harvard graduate student Gabriela Nguyen started Appstinence, a movement encouraging Gen Z and Gen Alpha to pull back from social media and become less attached to their phones. Nguyen grew up in Silicon Valley, the center of the Big Tech industry, and realized her addiction to her phone, so she created Appstinence, and with it, the 5D Method to rebel against the hyperconnected digital world.

The 5D Method is a gradual process to depart from the digital world, and it involves five steps: decrease, deactivate, delete, downgrade, and depart. Nguyen adds how tech should only serve the basic purposes of allowing you to text and call with family and peers, but other than that, you should be out in the sunshine, soaking in everything the real world has to offer.

Both the BlackBerry and Appstinence make one message clear: Gen Z is shifting priorities, becoming more cognizant of tech’s impact on their wellness and emphasizing how going screen free isn’t outdated or impractical, but cool and vintage.

So, what are your thoughts? Do you think bringing in a phone with a physical keyboard, or trying out the 5D method is worth a shot?

As someone who just finished the college admissions process, let me be the first to say: I’m so glad it’s over. I wouldn’t wish to go through it again — and I mean that with my whole heart.

For as long as I can remember, college has loomed in the background of my life. That little voice asking: Are you doing enough? Are your grades high enough? Is your SAT score good enough? As I got closer to actually applying, I began to realize something both comforting and frustrating: yes, those things matter… but also, they don’t.

Because here’s the truth: a big part of college admissions is out of your hands. Sometimes, no matter how hard you work, how perfect your application is, or how much you want it, it just doesn’t make sense. And that’s not your fault.

Let’s talk about why.

First of all: Class of ’25, you made it.

This was one of the most competitive years in college admissions to date. With a spike in the number of high school graduates, application numbers skyrocketed. Add to that the continued shifts in test-optional policies, and it made for a chaotic, high-pressure year.

But even beyond this year’s craziness, there are trends worth understanding — not to stress you out to help you understand there are factors here larger than your individual application.

What’s actually driving all these changes?

Let’s start with birth rates. Fewer babies means fewer future applicants. This was not the case for the Class of 2025. Some years see a dip in high school grads, which can affect admissions numbers — though this is usually a slow-moving factor. It’s worth noting.

What really stood out to me is how many schools students apply to now. My dad, for example, applied to four colleges. That used to be the norm. I applied to 19. Yes, you read that right — 1-9.

I’ll admit it: I didn’t even love all of those schools. Some were just there to make me feel “safe,” whatever that means anymore.

Platforms like the Common App and Coalition App have completely changed the game. With a few clicks, you can apply to 20 schools — and in some cases, you don’t even need to write a supplemental essay. Schools like Northeastern, Grinnell, and Middlebury don’t ask for one, which makes it super tempting to check the box and move on.

On top of that, accessibility plays a huge role. The Common App is designed to make applying easier. And it works. Take the University of Chicago, for instance: when they joined the Common App, their number of applicants jumped — fast. Why? Because it’s just easier. Compare that to schools like Georgetown, which still uses its own application system (and yes, it’s kind of a pain). I know multiple friends who didn’t apply just because the portal was confusing.

So what does this all mean?

It means the system is complicated — and sometimes feels unfair. But it also means you’re not alone if you’re feeling overwhelmed, confused, or even disheartened. You can do everything “right” and still not get the result you hoped for.

But you’ll also end up where you’re meant to be.

If you’re just starting your college journey, take a breath. Focus on telling your story, being honest about what you love, and trusting the process just enough to get through it — without letting it define your worth.

You are more than where you get in. Way more.

If you’ve been on Instagram the past few weeks, you’ve probably seen it—videos of people dumping ice buckets over their heads, tagging their friends, and using hashtags like #MINDChallenge and #MentalHealthMatters. Sound familiar? Yep, it’s giving major flashbacks to the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge that took the internet by storm back in 2014. That viral sensation drew over 17 million participants in support of ALS research. Now, a fresh twist on the idea is gaining traction, and this time, the spotlight is on mental health.

Enter the USC MIND Challenge—a social media-driven initiative created by students at the University of South Carolina to raise awareness for mental health issues and support organizations like Active Minds, which promotes mental wellness on campuses across the country. Instead of raising money, this challenge is about raising voices, starting conversations, and smashing the stigma around mental health, one icy pour at a time.

The impact of the USC MIND Challenge has been impossible to miss—especially on social media. In just a short time, the USC chapter of Active Minds saw their Instagram following jump from 30,000 to over 270,000, showing just how quickly the movement is catching on. It’s a clear sign that people are tuning in, sharing, and connecting with the mission in a big way. What started as a simple ice bucket moment has grown into a nationwide wave of awareness, proving that small actions can spark meaningful change.

Beyond just going viral, the challenge is inspiring students across the country to take action in their own communities. With more attention on Active Minds and its mission, there’s a growing hope that new chapters will start popping up at schools that don’t yet have one. The momentum is building, and many students are realizing that they, too, can bring this energy to their own campuses. Just like the ice buckets are being passed from person to person, the message of mental health advocacy is spreading—one campus at a time.

So next time you see a friend holding a bucket of ice over their head on your feed, know it’s not just for the views—it’s a call for change. And who knows? Maybe you’ll be the next one to make a splash for a cause that truly matters.

During COVID, I found myself in the same position as a lot of people: stuck inside, out of things to watch, and looking for something—anything—to do. I had always been a big TV and movie fan, but with Netflix feeling tapped out, I turned to books. Over the course of that year, I read more than 200 of them. Part of it was boredom, sure, but part of it was also the rhythm I got into.

It wasn’t that I suddenly became a better reader or more disciplined. It’s that the conditions were right. I had time. I wasn’t constantly switching between tasks. There weren’t ten competing demands pulling at my attention. There was enough stillness for me to get into that quiet, immersive state that reading requires.

When high school picked back up, things started to change. It wasn’t just that I had more work or less free time—it was that reading became another box to check. School reading, by nature, often feels like a task. It’s assigned. It’s timed. It comes with essays, quizzes, and expectations. And when you’re also juggling sports, clubs, homework, and a buzzing phone at all hours, it’s hard to find the space to fully engage with a book in the way it deserves.

What I’ve noticed—among my peers, but also in myself—is that it’s not the desire to read that’s missing. It's the practice. Reading a long book requires a kind of sustained attention and mental endurance that our digital environments are actively working against. We train our brains every day to prefer quick hits of information: short videos, snappy summaries, AI-generated answers. Everything we consume is designed to be as easy and efficient as possible. In that environment, reading a dense novel—especially one written in a style from another era—feels like wading through wet cement.

The Atlantic recently ran a piece about a professor at an elite college who discovered that many of their students had never been required to read a book cover to cover. He wasn’t talking about first-years either—these were juniors and seniors. Some were headed to grad school. They were bright, articulate, and successful by many metrics. And yet, they had mastered the art of getting by without fully reading. They had learned how to extract just enough from summaries, classroom discussions, and online tools to pass the test or write the paper.

It’s easy to point fingers—at students, at schools, at tech. But I think we need to ask a more systemic question: How did we allow reading to become optional in an education system that claims to value critical thinking?

Part of the problem is that we treat reading as a means to an end. “Read this so you can write that”. “Understand this passage so you can pass this test”. But reading isn’t just a skill—it’s a mode of thinking. It teaches patience, empathy, and ambiguity. You don’t always get a clear answer or a “takeaway.” You just sit with a character or a thought, and let it unfold. That kind of engagement is hard to quantify, so it gets deprioritized in systems that are increasingly focused on output and efficiency.

But we’re seeing the consequences. When students rely on SparkNotes, AI summaries, and shortcut culture, they lose the muscle for deep thought. They start to panic when a book doesn’t “make sense” on the first read. They think every paragraph should be doing something obvious. We’ve created an environment where reading feels like a performance, not a conversation.

So what’s the solution?

We need to reframe reading not as a moral good or academic chore, but as a deeply human practice worth protecting. That means:

• Giving students time and space to read without immediate pressure—sometimes just for enjoyment.

• Creating classroom cultures that value slow thinking and open interpretation rather than always racing toward a “correct” analysis.

• Talking honestly about the distractions we all face and building in moments of intentional disconnection.

• Modeling what it looks like to wrestle with a book—to be confused, challenged, even bored—and to keep going anyway.

And yes, tools like AI and summaries have a place. They can clarify, support, and even deepen understanding. But they should be supplements, not substitutes. Because reading a book in its entirety—especially one that’s hard—builds something that no shortcut ever will: stamina, curiosity, and the ability to think beyond the surface.

Dear Class of 2025,

Four years. Four years of laughter, late nights, early mornings, unforgettable friendships, and lessons learned both in and out of the classroom. As the Class of 2025 stands on the edge of this chapter, it’s time to reflect on the journey that has brought everyone here—the experiences, the challenges, the triumphs, and, most importantly, the people who have shaped this high school experience.

Friends, Teachers, and the Moments That Matter

High school isn’t just about academics; it’s about the connections made along the way. Friends have been the anchors, the adventure buddies, and the greatest supporters. Through every celebration, every setback, and every shared experience, these relationships have shaped what high school has meant.

Then there are the teachers—the mentors who pushed beyond what seemed possible. The ones who challenged, encouraged, and believed in their students, even when self-doubt crept in. To those who took the time to listen, guide, and inspire, the impact will be carried far beyond graduation.

Failures, Successes, and the Lessons in Between

Not every moment was easy. There were failures—tests that didn’t go as planned, goals that felt just out of reach, moments of uncertainty. But every stumble was a lesson in resilience, patience, and perseverance. And with those lessons came success. Winning competitions, leading initiatives, crossing finish lines, and pushing beyond comfort zones. Each achievement, no matter how big or small, is a testament to the strength and determination of the Class of 2025.

Surviving Senior Fall

Everyone talks about junior spring, but senior fall? That’s a whole different challenge. College applications, leadership responsibilities, trying to savor every moment while planning for the future—it was overwhelming. But with the support of friends, family, and teachers, we made it through. The chaos was navigated, priorities were balanced, and now, the finish line is in sight.

Gratitude and Celebration

As this chapter comes to a close, gratitude takes center stage. To the friends who have been there every step of the way, to the teachers who never stopped believing, to the families who have been the foundation—thank you. The journey wouldn’t have been the same without you.

Now, it’s time to celebrate. To be in the present moment. To dance at prom, bask in the sun, and enjoy every second of being recognized for the hard work that has led to this point. High school has been a whirlwind, but every challenge and triumph has been worth it.

The memories will always have a place in the heart, but the future is calling. And the Class of 2025 is ready.

As I look back on my own journey, I feel immense gratitude for the people who have stood by me—the friends who lifted me up, the teachers who challenged me, and the family who never wavered in their support. These years have shaped me in ways I never expected, and while I will hold onto these memories forever, I also look forward to the future with excitement and hope. High school has been a chapter I’ll always cherish, but now it’s time to turn the page.

We did it.

After seeing Adolescence pop up again and again on my TikTok and Reels feed, I finally gave in and watched it. The clips alone hinted at how intense and raw the show was, but the full experience blew me away. People online had talked about the quality of filming, the acting, and the importance of the message—and honestly, I agree with all of it. It’s one of those shows that doesn’t just sit with you after it ends; it lingers.

The story follows Jamie, a 13-year-old boy accused of killing a classmate. The rest of the plot you’ll have to see for yourself — I’m not going to spoil the plot because I genuinely think everyone should watch it. But what makes Adolescence stand out isn’t just the crime or the mystery of whether or not Jamie did it. It’s about the why. Why would a kid do something like this? What would get him there??

One of the first things that struck me is how each episode is filmed in a single take. There are no cuts, and no traditional scene changes–just one, continuous shot. . The camera weaves through different locations and perspectives in real time, which creates this constant feeling of unease and urgency. You’re not just watching events unfold—you’re being pulled through them, almost like you’re part of the chaos. The third episode especially stands out: an uninterrupted, hour-long conversation between Jamie and a psychologist. It’s just the two of them, building this emotional tension in real time. It’s probably one of the best-acted episodes of TV I’ve seen in a while.

But what Adolescence really nailed—and what makes it so important—is how it tackles online radicalization, specifically in the manosphere. That term might feel a little academic, but if you’ve ever seen clips of Andrew Tate or heard phrases like “alpha male” or “high value men” thrown around in your feed, you already know what it’s about. These toxic online spaces can be subtle at first, packaged as self-help or “male empowerment.” But they quickly spiral into something more insidious: misogyny, extremism, and a warped view of gender roles and power.

The show doesn’t try to shock you with these ideas—it shows how normal and even appealing they can look to a teenage boy who feels lost. That’s what hit hardest. Jamie doesn’t come across as evil. He comes across as a kid who’s confused, insecure, and searching for some kind of identity—like so many boys are today. And the internet is more than ready to give him one.

One of the creators and actor, Stephen Graham, said they weren’t interested in whether Jamie did it, but in exploring what led him to that point. That really stuck with me. Because a lot of people still see this kind of radicalization as something that only happens to grown men in fringe corners of the internet. But Adolescence makes it clear: this starts young. Younger than we think. And if we’re not paying attention, it festers.

While the show doesn’t offer clean answers, it asks the right questions. What are we doing for boys who feel invisible or angry? What role do adults, schools, and digital platforms play in shaping how young men think about themselves and the world? What happens when the only “guides” they have are viral influencers feeding them a steady diet of power fantasies and gender resentment?

There’s already talk about showing Adolescence in schools—and I get why. It’s not preachy or sanitized. It feels real, urgent, and uncomfortable in the right way. Even UK Prime Minister Keir Starmer watched it with his teenage kids, and said he thinks it should be part of the conversation about toxic masculinity and online influence.

For anyone interested in digital wellness, this show is essential viewing. It forces you to think about how screen time isn’t just about hours on a device—it’s about what is being consumed and how ite’s shaping our identities. For boys especially, that influence can be deeply formative, and in the wrong online spaces, deeply damaging.

Adolescence isn’t easy to watch—but that’s exactly why you should.