It is an argument every generation seems to inherit: Kids these days? They are just lazy.
We constantly hear that young people do not want to work. That they expect too much. That they are entitled, fragile and soft.
Picture this: Marla, a high school sophomore, comes home, drops her backpack and spends hours scrolling on her phone. Later, she complains that she has too much homework. Her parents reach an understandable conclusion: She is lazy.
Recently, former White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt, herself a member of Gen Z, brought this accusation back into the national conversation. She described her generation as “a little bit” lazy and raised with “silver spoons in their mouths.” Her prescription was equally familiar: work harder, embrace
meritocracy, and pull yourself up by your bootstraps.
The story is compelling because it’s simple. If the problem is laziness, the solution must be effort.
But what if the explanation is wrong?
Gen Z deserves more empathy
As researchers and practitioners of emotional intelligence, we have spent decades studying how emotions influence the way we think, learn, make decisions, solve problems, build relationships and behave. Emotions are not background noise; they are information.
When we call someone lazy, we often stop asking questions. We confuse a judgment with an explanation.
What we call laziness may be disengagement: “None of this feels relevant to me.” Discouragement: “Why bother? I will probably fail.” Shame: “Everyone else understands this except me.” Disconnection: “No one would notice if I stopped trying.” Or something more troubling: “Nothing really excites me anymore.”
What looks like indifference may be anxiety. What looks like a lack of ambition may be a young person who has lost faith that effort will lead somewhere meaningful.
Of course, young people sometimes procrastinate, avoid responsibility and need to work harder. So do adults. But calling someone lazy describes what we see; it does not tell us why it is happening – or what might change it.
Empathy and accountability are not opposites. Understanding is often what makes accountability work.
Gen Z is lonely. Fixing that will take more than grit.
Young people are coming of age amid financial strain, political conflict, climate anxiety, mass violence and a digital culture that brings every catastrophe onto the screens in their pockets. Recent Federal Reserve data show that financial well-being declined among young adults in 2025, with the decline especially pronounced among those ages 18 to 24.
They are told to build successful lives while many traditional markers of adulthood – financial independence, stable work, home ownership – feel harder to reach.
And then there is loneliness.
Loneliness is often treated as separate from debates about motivation, work and education. It isn’t. Social connection is deeply tied to well-being – and to motivation.
Decades of research on self-determination show that people are more likely to thrive and sustain motivation when fundamental needs for competence, autonomy and relatedness are supported.
In plain English: We work harder when we believe we can succeed, when we have some ownership over what we are doing, and when we feel that we belong and matter.
Loneliness can erode those conditions. A young person who does not feel known, needed or connected may begin to wonder: Who would notice if I stopped trying? What am I working toward? Where do I fit? What difference does any of this make?
Those questions need more than lectures on grit.
AI can't answer every question. We can help.
Young people have more access to the language of mental health – and to helpers – than any generation before them. Therapy is discussed openly. Counseling platforms are widely available. Social media offers an endless vocabulary of anxiety, trauma, boundaries, burnout and attachment. And now AI can answer questions about feelings and relationships at any hour.
But more language and more information have not eliminated distress. In 2023, 40% of U.S. high school students reported persistent feelings of sadness or hopelessness.
Perhaps what is missing is not simply more language for distress, but more help answering some of the oldest human questions: What am I good at? What do I care about? Who needs me? Where can I contribute? Do I matter? What kind of person do I want to become?
Purpose does not mean discovering one grand calling at seventeen. It may begin much smaller: being trusted with responsibility, becoming good at something difficult, helping a younger child, making music, solving a problem, caring for a grandparent, working toward a goal that feels genuinely one’s own. Research on adolescent development has long suggested that purpose is associated with positive development.
Gen Z can remove their own obstacles – with help from us
Young people need adults who help them connect emotion to action:
- You are discouraged: What matters enough to keep going?
- You are angry: What might that anger be telling you to protect or change?
- You are bored: what sparks your curiosity?
- You failed: What do you want enough to try again?
These are emotional-intelligence questions, but they are also questions about agency, responsibility, and building a life.
They require emotional allies: adults who listen without rushing to judgment and communicate two messages at once:
- I want to understand what you are experiencing
- I believe you are capable of doing something with it
That second message matters just as much as the first.
They do not need adults who remove every obstacle from their path. They need adults who help them develop the skills and confidence to face obstacles themselves.
Schools are uniquely positioned to provide both. A school should teach students to read, write, calculate, analyze and reason. It should also be a place where young people discover competence, belonging, contribution, and possibility.
A student who struggles in algebra may come alive building a robot. Another may find herself editing the school newspaper, tutoring a younger student, playing cello, organizing a food drive, or encountering a teacher who notices something in her she has not yet learned to see in herself.
These experiences are not peripheral to education. They are often where motivation begins.
Calling Gen Z lazy isn't helpful
Return to Marla, sitting on her bed with her homework untouched and her phone in her hand. Her parents could call her lazy, take away the phone and insist she try harder.
And maybe she does need firmer limits. Maybe she needs to put down the phone and begin the assignment. But the conversation cannot end there.
Someone also needs to wonder with her what happens inside when she opens her backpack. Is she overwhelmed before she begins? Afraid of failing? Does the work feel meaningless? Is the phone offering temporary relief from loneliness or pressure?
Then ask the question we pose to young people far too rarely:
Marla, what do you care about?
What makes you curious? When do you feel most like yourself? What are you willing to work hard for? Where do you feel useful?
Those questions do not excuse Marla from doing her homework.
The goal is not to give her an excuse for disengaging. It is to give her a reason to engage.
Motivation cannot simply be commanded into existence. It grows when young people experience themselves as capable, connected and needed – when they can imagine a future self worth working toward and believe they have something to contribute.
The next time someone describes young people as lazy, we might ask a better question:
Have we helped them discover something worth working for?
Accountability still matters. So do effort, perseverance and responsibility. But accountability begins with understanding what makes effort possible.
Bootstraps may tell young people to pull themselves up.
Our role is to help them discover why they want to stand.
Robin Stern, PhD, is the cofounder and senior adviser to the director of the Yale Center for Emotional Intelligence, and a psychoanalyst in private practice. She is the author of "The Gaslight Effect" and "The Gaslight Effect Recovery Guide," and host of "The Gaslight Effect Podcast." Marc Brackett, PhD, is the founding director of the Yale Center for Emotional Intelligence and a professor at Yale’s Child Study Center. He is the author of "Permission to Feel” and "Dealing with Feeling,” which is also the name of his podcast. Opinions are those of the authors and do not reflect those of Yale School of Medicine.
This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: We're holding Gen Z to a standard that doesn't make sense | Opinion
