Interesting entry into the debate about kids and mental health.
www.theatlantic.com
Last week, columbia university became the latest school to announce that it would no longer require SAT or ACT scores for undergraduate admissions. The school’s decision was “rooted in the belief that students are dynamic, multi-faceted individuals who cannot be defined by any single factor,” the college said in a defense of its policy change.
The SAT has faced heavy scrutiny for privileging rich families, which can pay for test-prep classes for their kids. Some believe that dropping the test is an ethical move toward equality in selective college admissions. Others argue that Columbia is replacing one metric skewed toward rich students with a bundle of metrics that are even more stratified by socioeconomic status, such as high GPAs, internships in Nicaragua, and expensive traveling soccer teams.
My concern is that this elite-college policy—carried out in the name of equity—might billow the embers of a teen-anxiety firestorm. After all, when a college makes one test the core of your application, you’ll cram for that test. When the same school says your assessment is based on an infinitude of talents, it’s a tacit suggestion that ambitious students spend 100 hours a week cultivating as many résumé-stuffers as possible.
For the past few weeks, I’ve been thinking a lot about the extraordinary rise of teen mental distress in the United States. I’ve studied the literature on social-media and smartphone use and considered the rise of loneliness among young people. But the Columbia news made me think I’ve overlooked a key factor that helps explain why adolescent distress is rising not only in the U.S. but also in many rich countries. It’s pressure-cooker schools.
A 2022 paper by Dirk Bethmann and Robert Rudolf, both professors at Korea University, points out a curious paradox: In the 21st century, rich countries are beset with sadder adolescents. This finding runs counter to one of the fundamental rules of economics. Global data strongly associate wealth and happiness for adults, because citizens of richer countries tend to have higher subjective well-being than those of poorer countries. But Bethmann and Rudolf found a “paradox of wealthy nations,” because advanced economies seem to manufacture happier adults and unhappier adolescents.
One explanation might go like this: Richer and more complex economies require more rigorous and intense education, putting more pressure on kids to be high-achieving perfectionists. Adolescents go through a kind of happiness slingshot, in which stress early on springs them toward greater wealth and well-being later in life. Bethmann and Rudolf wink at this notion, writing that although “a higher learning intensity tends to increase a student’s academic achievement,” it tends to reduce leisure time, sleep, and subjective well-being.
Bethmann and Rudolf also found that higher standardized-test scores and student assessments of academic competition were strongly correlated with teen anxiety. If you take two countries that are equivalent in almost every way—same GDP, inequality, life expectancy, air pollution—the nation with higher test scores and more student competition will have more anxious and depressed teens.
The Bethmann-Rudolf hypothesis echoes international evidence that has repeatedly uncovered a negative relationship between (1) a culture of obsessive student achievement and long schoolwork hours, and (2) student well-being:
Now, what about the u.s., specifically?
[cont...]
We’re Missing a Key Driver of Teen Anxiety
A culture of obsessive student achievement and long schoolwork hours can make kids depressed.
Last week, columbia university became the latest school to announce that it would no longer require SAT or ACT scores for undergraduate admissions. The school’s decision was “rooted in the belief that students are dynamic, multi-faceted individuals who cannot be defined by any single factor,” the college said in a defense of its policy change.
The SAT has faced heavy scrutiny for privileging rich families, which can pay for test-prep classes for their kids. Some believe that dropping the test is an ethical move toward equality in selective college admissions. Others argue that Columbia is replacing one metric skewed toward rich students with a bundle of metrics that are even more stratified by socioeconomic status, such as high GPAs, internships in Nicaragua, and expensive traveling soccer teams.
My concern is that this elite-college policy—carried out in the name of equity—might billow the embers of a teen-anxiety firestorm. After all, when a college makes one test the core of your application, you’ll cram for that test. When the same school says your assessment is based on an infinitude of talents, it’s a tacit suggestion that ambitious students spend 100 hours a week cultivating as many résumé-stuffers as possible.
For the past few weeks, I’ve been thinking a lot about the extraordinary rise of teen mental distress in the United States. I’ve studied the literature on social-media and smartphone use and considered the rise of loneliness among young people. But the Columbia news made me think I’ve overlooked a key factor that helps explain why adolescent distress is rising not only in the U.S. but also in many rich countries. It’s pressure-cooker schools.
A 2022 paper by Dirk Bethmann and Robert Rudolf, both professors at Korea University, points out a curious paradox: In the 21st century, rich countries are beset with sadder adolescents. This finding runs counter to one of the fundamental rules of economics. Global data strongly associate wealth and happiness for adults, because citizens of richer countries tend to have higher subjective well-being than those of poorer countries. But Bethmann and Rudolf found a “paradox of wealthy nations,” because advanced economies seem to manufacture happier adults and unhappier adolescents.
One explanation might go like this: Richer and more complex economies require more rigorous and intense education, putting more pressure on kids to be high-achieving perfectionists. Adolescents go through a kind of happiness slingshot, in which stress early on springs them toward greater wealth and well-being later in life. Bethmann and Rudolf wink at this notion, writing that although “a higher learning intensity tends to increase a student’s academic achievement,” it tends to reduce leisure time, sleep, and subjective well-being.
Bethmann and Rudolf also found that higher standardized-test scores and student assessments of academic competition were strongly correlated with teen anxiety. If you take two countries that are equivalent in almost every way—same GDP, inequality, life expectancy, air pollution—the nation with higher test scores and more student competition will have more anxious and depressed teens.
The Bethmann-Rudolf hypothesis echoes international evidence that has repeatedly uncovered a negative relationship between (1) a culture of obsessive student achievement and long schoolwork hours, and (2) student well-being:
- After an education reform in Germany led to more instructional time, a 2018 study found that increased school hours “significantly reduced adolescents’ self-rated mental health status.”
- A 2018 analysis of Taiwan “cram schools,” which often focus on helping students pass standardized tests, found that these programs reliably increase academic achievement at the cost of increasing rates of depression.
- A 2018 study by Gabriel Heller-Sahlgren at the London School of Economics found that schools around the world with higher test scores and more homework typically see the same trade-off: higher achievement and lower well-being, possibly because of greater “parental-achievement pressure,” which encourages students to feel more competitive.
- A 2022 study of seventh to 10th graders by Korean researchers found that students whose peers were randomly assigned private tutoring after school reported more depressive symptoms. One possible explanation is that teens without tutors became more worried about their relative academic success and spent more time on schoolwork to keep up.
Now, what about the u.s., specifically?
[cont...]
