What It’s Like to Be a Teen

“What can you show us that might help explain what it’s like to be a teenager right now?”

That was the question posed by The Learning Network, an educational resource of The New York Times, in its “Coming of Age in 2022” contest. Nearly 3,000 students answered with their artwork, and the winners (some of which are seen here, along with their accompanying statements) were announced earlier this year.

Though much of the uncertainty and isolation of the first year of the pandemic has passed, young people have been left juggling myriad repercussions.

This collection shows the teen response not just to Covid, but also to issues such as climate change and gun violence. What emerges is a strong common theme: the need to make sense of these experiences together.

This is me waiting for a friend to pick up the phone.

I value human connection much more than I did prior to the pandemic, and I make it central in my routine. A simple phone call can be the bridge between worlds.

Me and my peers were hit hard by the isolation of quarantine, but we’re rebounding with a resolve to connect beyond boundaries. We strive to maintain and grow the web of interactions that keeps us whole.

My friends are by my side, recounting endless stories for as long as I’m on the line.

I used everything I could find: watercolor, acrylics, marker, and pencil. The piece didn’t need to be perfect because that was the point. I feel that we all put up a face when a camera is around. We try to look like these perfect people, but there is so much more beyond our smiles. The happy, joyful person may be sad and lonely all day. The angry person may just be upset and in need of a hug. No one is perfect.

You asked, “What can you show us that might help explain what it’s like to be a teenager in this moment?” This is it. It’s all of us pretending to be perfect for the camera. Always smiling in front of a crowd, and left crying alone.

Over the past two years, I have become more aware of the reality of global warming because I have seen the effects it has on nature. But when I try to have real conversations with kids my age about climate change, it usually makes them feel uncomfortable.

I sometimes worry about my future because I know change needs to happen, but it is hard to feel confident when many people in my generation live in denial. Although I want to enjoy my teenage years, I can’t help but worry if everyone I know chooses to ignore the warning signs.

Teenagers need to rest. Whether it’s by turning off the news or taking a day away from an extracurricular activity, teenagers need to learn to rest.

This painting was inspired by a photo my mom took of me sleeping in the car on the way home from a violin lesson. Back then, my lessons would end at 10 p.m. By the time we got home, it would be close to 11. And although I “did it because I wanted to,” yes, it was still exhausting.

Coming out of the pandemic, the thought that I’d lost years of in-person lessons amplified my dedication to the instrument. It made me desperate to “max out” everything I had on my plate. Maintain a 4.0, pick up new hobbies, conduct a few research projects. Resting felt like a waste of time.

Not surprisingly, I got sick. Surgery, accompanied by weeks away from school and a diagnosis of a chronic illness, finally made me realize I had been chin-deep in deadlines and expectations and stress. The past two years have put stress beyond words on teens across the nation. The pandemic, college applications, gun policies, dating, climate change, family quarrels, racial violence, grades, election campaigns: These things are all over-stimulating yet real for many of us. We are weary and need compassion, healing, and repose.

I was thinking about how in the future, I’ll tell kids that I lived through the pandemic mentioned in their textbooks (or, I guess, Chromebooks). I realized that I started thinking so far ahead because of adults’ urge to get everything back to “normal.”

The pandemic has put us in a constant state of asking “What’s next?” and as a result, I have been doing a lot of reflecting. In 2020, I had a massive reality AND privilege check! I was exposed to the blatant racism and discrimination of this country, influencing me to become an advocate for the people, my people. When I got my hair braided for the first time, it finally felt like I was confident with my identity. I also learned to make biscuits! I’m not the best with making any food, but I got out of the kitchen in one piece, so I was thriving. I also participated in my first protest, and I have never felt so uplifted as I was seeing the amount of student support. Adults tend to belittle teens, thinking we aren’t aware of the “big issues” around us. That protest said otherwise, and I truly felt like I was helping create “good noise.”

These past two-and-a-half years really have messed up our learning capabilities. Education gets harder and harder for students to keep up with because of virtual and hybrid learning. Teachers expect us to know pieces of information that just slipped our minds during quarantine.

The three notes I’ve designed show how the different years get progressively more disorganized. As a result, years after the sudden quarantine, all students have been somewhat behind.

The usual chatter in the classroom is absent as an eerie silence sweeps over the school. The harsh glare of our phone screens is in stark contrast with the room’s dimness, illuminating our worried expressions as frantic messages are exchanged. “Are you OK? What’s going on?”

One reads, “I love you.”

My phone continuously lights up with messages from my classmates, even the ones sitting right next to me. I can just barely make out their expressions shadowed by the darkness of our surroundings, shoulder-to-shoulder, hiding beneath the cramped desks trying to remain out of the line of sight of the door’s window. I find myself staring anxiously at my parents’ messages; I keep on sending them updates over the next few hours to reassure them that I’m OK.

“A lot of cop cars are outside, I can hear them.”

“Someone said there were dogs scanning the building for bombs.”

“Just in case, don’t walk over to the school building. Just in case something happens.”

Just in case something happens? Reflecting back on those texts, I only now see the impact that the single line of text had. It’s disturbing the ease with which I wrote those words four months ago. We’ve become so unfazed by these drills, but this time it felt extremely real.

It’s incredibly strange how we must live through these threats and be expected to move on and come to school the next day.

The Learning Network has run its annual “Coming of Age” teen art contest since 2020. Winners of the 2023 contest will be announced soon.