The Kids Are Not Alright

This next generation is walking into a strange, new world. Their mental health isn’t a nice-to-have—it’s the ground everything else depends on.

By Adriana Velez and Nafisa Masud
October 22, 2026

Perhaps

every generation worries about the next one. But this time around, it’s not just adults who are worried. Children and teens worry, too.

“I have hope for the future, but I definitely see that a lot of young people don’t have hope,” says Matthew Burnett, a high school senior in Utah. “It feels like people are sinking deeper and deeper into a pit they can't get out of.”

Many of these fears relate to the outside world: debt, climate change, gun violence, and political instability. But they’re also internal: Who am I? What do I want for my life? Where do I belong?

For many, school rarely provides relief. The three words most commonly used by kids to describe how they feel in school are bored, tired, and pressured.

Social media often adds another layer, exposing youth to cyberbullying, violence, explicit content, and unrealistic expectations. A recent report by the U.S. Surgeon General’s Advisory shows that teens who spend more than three hours a day on social media double their risk of experiencing mental health conditions like anxiety and depression.

The SafeUT app offers kids invaluable 24/7 crisis support. Other digital tools (including AI chatbots) are becoming increasingly popular, but they still have a ways to go. While AI can help make therapy more accessible, it’s often unregulated—there’s no mandatory reporting when a risk of harm or suicidal ideation is detected, leaving dangerous mental health crises to spiral until it’s too late.

And the stakes are high.

The suicide rate has nearly tripled for kids aged 10-14 in the past 20 years. Among teens, it’s increased by

76%

Source: CDC

There’s no playbook for parenting in the 2020s. Best thinking from a generation, a decade, or even a year ago can feel inadequate, leaving parents to muddle through the endless questions on their own. Should I be worried that my daughter spends so much time alone in her room? Are my son’s frequent emotional outbursts just the hormones talking? Am I overreacting? Or am I not doing enough?

Between the hostile eye rolls and mysterious fascination with “6-7”, it can be easy to forget that today’s youth are our future firefighters, nurses, judges, storytellers, and leaders. So even if you aren’t personally raising children, we’re all collectively responsible for the well-being of our next generation.

If we’re really serious about giving children the mental health support they need, then we have to reframe how (and where) we offer those resources. Through partnerships with school districts, clinicians and researchers at the U are providing support directly in schools where young people learn, grow, and connect, wrapping kids in the care they need to thrive and face the world.

These partnerships (often called school-based mental health programs) bring together the expertise of psychiatrists, clinicians, pediatricians, and graduate students in education and mental health to work with school staff like nurses, administrators, social workers, and teachers.

It’s a wide net designed to support everyone’s goals. School staff feel empowered to better help their K-12 students, and less burnt out and overburdened themselves. Graduate students and resident physicians get real-world experience and provide care in areas with provider shortages. And children learn essential skills, from managing their emotions to asking for help, in the place where they spend most of their days.

Essentially, these programs are building a network that enables the people closest to Utah’s kids to recognize—and treat—mental health issues early on.

The University of Utah is partnering directly with school districts across the state to address mental health issues. These school-based programs equip staff with everything they need to facilitate mental health screenings, stretch limited resources, and refer students who need more specialized care. It’s a community solution to a community problem.

DISTRICTS WE SERVE:
• Alpine • Davis • Granite • Juab
• Emery • North Summit
• Park City • Piute • Salt Lake
• San Juan • Sevier • South Summit • Tintic • Tooele • Wayne

The University of Utah is partnering directly with school districts across the state to address mental health issues. These school-based programs equip staff with everything they need to facilitate mental health screenings, stretch limited resources, and refer students who need more specialized care. It’s a community solution to a community problem.

DISTRICTS WE SERVE:
• Alpine • Davis • Granite • Juab • Emery • North Summit • Park City • Piute • Salt Lake • San Juan • Sevier • South Summit • Tintic • Tooele • Wayne

THE PROCESS STARTS by meeting with each school or district to identify their current resources. “We don’t go in and just do this for them,” says Sean Weeks, PhD, a psychologist at Huntsman Mental Health Institute. “We make sure that this is a team effort.”

“Why do we wait for children to fail before we help them? Everything we designed flows from refusing to accept that,” says Karen Manotas, MD, a child and adolescent psychiatrist at Huntsman Mental Health Institute. “If a child spends 30 hours a week in school, then that’s where prevention has to live.”

Mental health screenings come next, working like an early warning system to identify issues so no student falls through the cracks. Children often present symptoms differently than adults; they can be irritable, emotionally reactive, or disruptive in class. “While we adults internalize it and feel it on the inside, they throw it out there for everybody else,” Weeks says.

Why do we wait for children to fail before we help them? If a child spends 30 hours a week in school, that’s where prevention has to live.”

–Karen Manotas, MD, child and adolescent psychiatrist

It’s a vulnerable thing to put your child’s mental health in the hands of someone else, so the programs make a point of including parents in the process. Program staff offers a broad menu of support—training teachers to validate good conduct and de-escalate conflict in the classroom, educating parents on managing behaviors at home, even helping families find summer programs and navigate the paperwork needed for special education services.

Complex cases may require a follow-up with a psychiatrist or school psychologist. For many families, finding a specialist can feel like a full-time job: navigating long waitlists, referrals, insurance hurdles, and time away from school and family life. With the programs’ support, parents aren’t stuck doing the legwork. Staff help to identify language access needs, find in-person and virtual care, and explore affordable options. It often takes weeks for an appointment instead of months, and that time can make a world of difference for a struggling child.

“That’s really what we’re there for,” Manotas says. “The goal is to understand the source of the distress, dysfunction, or behavior and provide that service in a timely manner.”

WHILE SCHOOL-BASED mental health programs offer training backed by research and aligned with state standards, the approach is still tailored for every community’s unique needs.

For high-risk kids in Salt Lake City, that might mean on-site support. One example is West High School Clinic, a pediatric school-based health clinic that provides a range of services right on campus: primary care offered by the U’s Department of Pediatrics and mental health support from Huntsman Mental Health Institute.

“Students are more likely to complete treatment when it’s offered at school instead of a clinic across town,” Manotas says. “Care that families can’t reach isn’t care. On campus, alongside the pediatrician, the barriers come down all at once.”

Every first checkup or sports physical includes a mental health screening. Students can attend a session between classes, and their parents don’t have to take time off from work to drive them to appointments. The convenience means consistent treatment, so kids can make real progress with their mental health challenges.

“This model lowers the threshold for asking for help,” says Kimberly Hansen, MD, an assistant professor of general pediatrics at the U and medical director for the West High School Clinic. “It makes mental health feel like a normal part of care, not something separate or shameful.”

Hansen is especially proud of the way pediatricians and mental health experts can partner right onsite to better support students. “Health care professionals and school staff all see a different part of a young person’s life. By integrating services in trauma-informed, adolescent-centered ways, we can respond earlier, more consistently, and in ways that feel less intimidating to students and families.”

When district administrators asked for help with students who had complex behavioral challenges (like conduct or oppositional disorders, ADHD, autism, and trauma, among others), program staff created special classrooms to prioritize those students’ needs.

“We often meet students at their most vulnerable points—periods where mental and behavioral health needs disrupt their daily life,” says Keith Radley, PhD, a professor of educational psychology at the U. “The most rewarding moments are watching a student acquire the skills needed to transition back into general education classrooms alongside their peers.”

An illustration of four people standing in a field with a large red poppy in the center. Each person is carrying a gardening tool while all of them tend to and care for the flower. The background is filled with lush green grass, vibrant flowers, and a bright blue sky.

For parents, it’s a vulnerable thing to put your child’s mental health in the hands of someone else. But school-based programs empower everyone in a child’s life—teachers, clinicians, experts, school staff, and family members alike—to help the next generation grow and thrive.

For parents, it’s a vulnerable thing to put your child’s mental health in the hands of someone else. But school-based programs empower everyone in a child’s life—teachers, clinicians, experts, school staff, and family members alike—to help the next generation grow and thrive.

Rural areas like San Juan County in southeastern Utah call for a different approach. For many families, the nearest medical facility is two to three hours away, a trip that requires taking time off work, spending money on gas, and dedicating an entire day to driving. And that’s if they have a car at all. On Navajo reservations, where homes are spread far apart along dirt roads and public transportation doesn’t exist, care often feels out of reach.

Rather than imposing a one-size-fits-all model, program staff work with local partners to support the community’s own vision of wellness. “I think one of the biggest pieces of our job is relationships,” Weeks says. “It’s what I feel most protective about in the work we do here."

In the Navajo community, that means approaching mental health through the lens of cultural tradition. Instead of speaking explicitly about sensitive topics like suicide, conversations center on hope and restoring it when it’s been lost.

Traditional counselors certified by the Dine’ Hataałii Association use storytelling, songs, and ceremonies—important components of the Navajo wellness model—to reconnect students with their identity and culture. When young people go without these practices, it can negatively impact their sense of well-being and their ability to navigate life’s challenges.

Recently, one student had made little progress through cognitive behavioral therapy until a traditional counselor discovered that the student’s mother had died in their home and he had found her body. After performing the appropriate ceremony, the student began attending school regularly and saw significant improvement in his relationships. In San Juan County, schools even have hogans (a traditional dwelling made of timber and packed earth) on campus, where specialized healing practices can take place.

Hózhó,
The Beauty Way

There’s no single template for these school partnerships. What restores well-being in San Juan County looks different from what works in Salt Lake City. The community closest to its own children gets to define what wellness means for them. The framework flexes, but the commitment stays the same.

In Diné (Navajo) tradition, for example, hózhó—often translated as beauty or harmony—describes a state of balance between a person, their family, their community, and the natural world. It isn’t something you arrive at and achieve; instead, it’s a continual journey, and something that can be restored when lost.

In this tradition, storms and lightning represent life’s intense but fleeting challenges. The rainbow that follows is a symbol of endurance and support, a reminder that no single path leads back to hózhó, only the ongoing work of walking toward it together.

A woman in traditional Navajo clothing holds the hand of a young boy in a red baseball cap and backpack as they walk along a path surrounded by red rock formations, leading to a rainbow in the background.

Hózhó,
The Beauty Way

There’s no single template for these school partnerships. What restores well-being in San Juan County looks different from what works in Salt Lake City. The community closest to its own children gets to define what wellness means for them. The framework flexes, but the commitment stays the same.

In Diné (Navajo) tradition, for example, hózhó—often translated as beauty or harmony—describes a state of balance between a person, their family, their community, and the natural world. It isn’t something you arrive at and achieve; instead, it’s a continual journey, and something that can be restored when lost.

In this tradition, storms and lightning represent life’s intense but fleeting challenges. The rainbow that follows is a symbol of endurance and support, a reminder that no single path leads back to hózhó, only the ongoing work of walking toward it together.

A woman in traditional Navajo clothing holds the hand of a young boy in a red baseball cap and backpack as they walk along a path surrounded by red rock formations, leading to a rainbow in the background.

AS PROGRAM STAFF look toward the future, they’re encouraged by the amount of support they’ve received from Utah leaders and community partners to prioritize mental health. “Utah has been really forward thinking when it comes to this issue,” Weeks says. “We see that there’s a huge need in this state, and people are willing to act on it.”

He remembers when a high-achieving student, the daughter of a single dad, scored as actively suicidal on a mental health screening at school. Weeks facilitated that first phone call—she was terrified to share this with her father, but he immediately left work and took her out for ice cream so they could talk about what she needed and how he could help. “It was the best thing he could have done, Weeks says. “I remember thinking, ‘This is why we do this.’”

Utah has been really forward thinking when it comes to addressing this issue. We’re starting to see improvements, but we cannot stop.”

–Sean Weeks, PhD, psychologist

Weeks hopes that as funding cuts continue to take place, their programs can find additional support. “Mental health services are essential,” he says. “We’re starting to see improvements across the state, but we cannot stop.”

That also means strengthening relationships with the community. “We need to build bridges with mental health centers, state agencies, and neighborhood support systems,” Radley says. “So when a student steps outside the school doors at the end of their day, that safety net remains intact.”

This model may require more effort, but the results are worth it. “What stays with me are the quieter moments: a student having a panic attack who just needs a safe place to understand their symptoms, a teen worried they might be pregnant, a student waiting at the door to talk about a mental health concern before we even open,” Hansen says. “Those encounters might not look dramatic from the outside, but if the care weren’t there, many of these conversations might never happen.”

Matthew Burnett—the student who originally noted hopelessness among his peers—lived through a mental health crisis during the pandemic and has since become an advocate for his fellow students. “I just didn't want anyone else to face that sort of feeling.”

He’s now working on an animated film pilot that explores themes around mental health. “I can't explain how much hope it gives me seeing new projects and games coming out,” he says. "We're still here, you know, we're still going.”

Hope is a precious resource, especially for this generation. Nurturing it requires the attention of those closest to them. As our youth learn new ways of seeing themselves and the world, they’ll be better equipped to lead and care for us all.

If you or someone you know may be struggling with mental health issues, support is available through the Huntsman Mental Health Institute and their child & teen mental health programs.

The Kids Are Not Alright

October 22, 2026

Story by Adriana Velez, MA, and Nafisa Masud, MS
Illustrations by Lisk Feng, MFA
Design by Laurie Robison
Editing & Publishing by Nafisa Masud, MS, and Amy Albo, MA
Art Direction by Pentagram Austin: DJ Stout and Daniel Mejía

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