Book Review: The Anxious Generation
I used to read dozens of books a year, but that all changed when I started running a company full time. Now I only get to read a handful a year, and I’m pretty picky about what I read because I have so little time to do it. I recently heard about Jonathan Haidt’s The Anxious Generation on a podcast. I knew the author right away as I read his last book, The Coddling of the American Mind. I am fascinated by books that try to explain what is going on - especially books about the students in our classrooms (or our own children). I finished the book on my flight to Austin, TX today, and I had to sit down and write this review immediately afterwards. I believe that every teacher should read this book. And every parent. Having read his prior book, I expected a thoughtful analysis of adolescent mental health. What I didn’t expect was how personal it would feel—both as a teacher who has spent decades working with young people, and as a parent who has raised children in the very era Haidt is describing. The book is not just an academic exploration; it’s a mirror held up to our classrooms, our homes, and our culture at large.
Haidt’s central idea is clear: over the last fifteen years, childhood have been fundamentally rewired. Kids no longer grow up through the same kind of play, exploration, and face-to-face connection that many of us took for granted. Instead, they are immersed in what he calls a “phone-based childhood.” I grew up in a “play-based childhood’ - one that I made a LOT of mistakes in (many that caused me quite a few injuries) and one where I also had a lot of freedom. Due to several factors - including the focus of the news media on scary things like child abductions, murder, and beyond - parents have knowingly or unknowingly tried to protect their children from harm (in many cases overprotect) and have while they hover over their children to make sure their safe in the real world, they basically give them unlimited freedom in the online world - one which in most cases is far more dangerous. That shift, he argues, is at the root of the skyrocketing rates of anxiety, depression, and loneliness we’re seeing among young people today.
As a parent, Haidt’s words were really impactful - and relevant. I’ve watched my own children navigate adolescence and now their twenties in a world where phones and social media are always present. On the one hand, I’m so thankful that smartphones and iPads weren’t around until both of my kids were a little older. I see young children today everywhere I go with a device in their hands. Even with house rules, screen-time limits, and conversations about balance, it’s clear that the pull of these devices is relentless. Haidt backs up what so many parents have felt in their gut: phones and social media change the texture of childhood. Instead of riding bikes around the neighborhood or hanging out face-to-face after school, kids are often home scrolling through feeds, comparing themselves to curated versions of their peers’ lives. It’s not that they don’t want real connection—it’s that the design of these platforms makes it harder for them to find it.
Reading this as a parent made me reflect not only on my own family’s choices but also on how much grace we need to give ourselves. None of us expected smartphones to reshape childhood so quickly and so completely. Haidt doesn’t scold parents—he equips us with research and language to better understand what’s happening, and to make more intentional choices moving forward.
As a teacher, the books observations feel all too familiar. I’m sure that I’m not alone when I say that every teacher has noticed how students today seem more anxious and less able to cope with setbacks. You see it when a student plays a wrong note and immediately shuts down, or when a small mistake in rehearsal becomes overwhelming. The fragility that Haidt describes shows up in real time during lessons, concerts, and even casual conversations. But what struck me most was how closely his “antidotes” align with what we do in music education. Music forces students to take risks, to fail safely, and to grow through practice. It demands collaboration, presence, and listening—qualities that are diminished by constant digital distraction. When a choir blends their voices or a band holds tempo together, students experience the kind of connection Haidt argues is essential for healthy development.
Haidt doesn’t just diagnose the problem—he offers pathways forward. He encourages families, schools, and communities to delay the introduction of smartphones, to limit social media use, and to create more opportunities for real play and connection. Some of his suggestions are ambitious, and not every school or parent will feel able to implement them immediately. But the underlying principle is simple: kids need less screen time and more face-to-face time.
As both a parent and an educator, I find it comforting that many of the solutions he proposes are already at our fingertips. Choosing to put phones away during dinner. Making rehearsal spaces phone-free zones. Encouraging students to solve problems in person instead of through texts or posts. These are not revolutionary acts, but together they can help restore some of what’s been lost. I think music educators have the perfect opportunity to encourage play, discovery, failure, success, etc in the music classroom.
The Anxious Generation is not an easy read in the sense that it forces us to face uncomfortable truths about the world we’ve created for our children. But it is an essential one. It combines rigorous research with a conversational and nonjudgemental tone. By the end of the book I felt both alarmed and hopeful. Alarmed by the size of the problem, but hopeful because there are concrete steps we can take.
This is a book that every parent and teacher should read. Not because it offers a perfect solution, but because it gives us the clarity and courage to start making changes. And in this anxious age, that’s exactly what our kids need us to do.