For many reasons, this has been a very trying several days. But I want to take a moment to carve out a few points that are hitting a lot of families with teenagers, like mine.
This is the time of year when many high school seniors find out the results of their early-decision applications for college. The move by universities to switch to “binding ED” is yet another factor turning up the heat in the pressure cooker our kids inhabit these days. For some of the most exclusive schools, teens must commit before they even find out if they’ve been accepted anywhere else. If they don’t take this route, their odds of getting into that first choice drop dramatically.
As if this process weren’t stressful enough, more and more schools have entire social media accounts devoted to celebrating these students’ college acceptances. On its face, this viral new tradition is just that: a celebration. But at a time when people of all ages are using glamorous social media filters to showcase every purchase, every party attended and, yes, their well-earned early-decision slots, it only drives home who’s in — and who’s not.
At a time when people of all ages are using glamorous social media filters to showcase every purchase, every party attended and, yes, their well-earned early-decision slots, it only drives home who’s in — and who’s not.
I’m about to turn 50. When I didn’t get invited to a Sweet 16 on a Friday night, I’d be sad for a while — and then I’d just go downstairs and play gin with my parents. When I didn’t get into my first-choice school, I talked to a few friends on the phone and spent a few nights floating in the tub feeling sorry for myself. Sure, I was jealous of the kids that did get in, but like everyone else, I applied to a bunch of schools. Even if my first choice was off the table, I didn’t have to spend Christmas break frantically applying to backups and holding my breath until the regular-decision letters were sent out in March.
There are parents who have asked schools to take down these social media pages. I’ve heard administrators may deflect, and use the excuse that the accounts are student-run. But I think that’s a pretty hollow response. I doubt those same schools would let students run pages with inappropriate or offensive comments.
I am also sure no one means to be hurtful or offensive. We should be able to post photos from our own events and parties and our favorite fashion pictures. We should not have to walk on eggshells out of fear of offending someone, somehow, somewhere. We cannot, however, ignore what is happening to our teens.
As we all collectively doomscroll our days away, bookmarking and saving all those parenting, educational and leadership influencers’ videos on YouTube, TikTok and Instagram, we are unintentionally contributing to the problem.
No doubt, I’ve sent my own teens a dozen posts with headlines like “Coveted high school internships that will make your college application pop!” and “What to know about the December SAT.” Meanwhile, my youngest has absconded with my phone to “heart” outfits from tween-geared shops to put on her Christmas list. (Sure, these stores sell soft, fuzzy pajama pants and oversize sweats, but keep scrolling, and they’ve got pleather corsets and skintight strapless minis just a few rows down. I know why I struggle to keep a strapless dress up, but I’m truly mystified as to why tube top dresses are being marketed to girls shopping for sixth-grade dances.)
My point is, nothing good is coming from these clicks and swipes. Two young teens lost their lives to suicide in the last several weeks just 10 blocks from where I live. I cannot fathom the pain their families are enduring, or understand what caused these tragedies. What I do know — from the children I parent, the news stories I cover and the hours I shamelessly spend scrolling — is that the internet is crushing our kids. We may be armed with the best intentions, but we’re flooded by the algorithms. What is going viral is making us sick, or worse.
And the days of late feel especially dark and heavy.









