K K RamachandranMy entire professional life has been spent with young minds. And I have two at home, so I am never not ‘at work’. As an educator and a parent, in classrooms, on campus lawns, at dining tables, and during car rides filled with both silence and Spotify playlists, if there’s one lesson that stands out in my experience, it’s this: everyone wants to give Gen Z advice, but very few stop to actually listen to them.Our world is obsessed with productivity, performance and progress. It is natural for adults, parents, teachers, employers, society at large, to want the best for the younger generation. Ergo we try to advise them but a generation bombarded by so much information and entertainment streams registers our advice as noise. This is a generation raised on immediacy, technology, and constant comparison and for all practical purposes is not moved by the same monologues that once shaped earlier generations. In fact, the word “advice” often triggers disengagement.Instead of advice, what Gen Z seeks and deserves is empathy, validation and presence. They want to be seen and heard, not managed or moulded. We need to go in armed with insight, and a creative expression.Much is said about Gen Z being rebellious, impatient, overconfident, addicted to screens, and “too sensitive”. But look deeper, and you’ll find resilience of a different kind, one that’s more internal, adaptive, often unseen.This is a generation that has grown up in an era of climate anxiety, economic volatility, a global pandemic during their most formative years, social media pressure and evolving definitions of identity and inclusion.Their anxieties aren’t always visible. They are buried beneath reels, memes, or casual sarcasm. But beneath the curated selfies lie very real fears of not being good enough, of disappointing those they love, of being left behind in a hypercompetitive world.Let me offer a metaphor from pop culture, one Gen Z is deeply familiar with — Thor, the Norse God of Thunder from the Marvel Cinematic Universe.Thor began his journey as the ideal son and warrior: strong, courageous, royal. But over time, we saw his evolution into something far more human. After losing his family, failing to stop Thanos, and bearing the guilt of half the universe’s erasure, Thor spirals. He gains weight, grows a beard, drinks too much, and withdraws, a superhero now consumed by self-doubt.That’s when it hit me: if Thor can feel this way, what about our students and children who carry expectations without divine powers to cushion the fall?Thor didn’t need fixing. He needed people who stood by him, acknowledged his pain, and accepted him even in his vulnerable state. That’s what Gen Z needs too -not advice, but allies.There’s a paradox in today’s society. We’ve never had more communication tools, yet the art of true listening is endangered. We ask students about grades but rarely about their grief. We inquire about plans but not their passions. We scroll through their posts but don’t sit with their pain.As educators and parents, we often fall into the trap of solution-giving. A child says they’re tired, and we say, “Go to sleep earlier.” A student says they’re confused, and we say, “Just focus.” A young adult says they feel lost, and we launch into a lecture about “how things were in our days”.But the truth is they’re not living in our days. They’re navigating a completely different world.What if we paused the advice and said:“I hear you.”“I don’t have all the answers, but I’m here.”“That sounds hard, do you want to talk about it more?”Simple statements. Powerful impact.In classrooms today, the chalkboard is not the only place learning happens. Education is no longer just about facts; it’s about life. I’ve come to believe that being an educator today means being a facilitator of self-discovery, not just a deliverer of syllabi.When students feel seen, they participate more. When they’re heard, they grow. And when they’re accepted, they thrive.It’s time we evolve from “sage on the stage” to “guide on the side”.Sometimes, listening means reading between the lines of a WhatsApp reply. It means sensing when a child’s laughter is too loud to be real. It means watching for the silence that follows, “I’m fine”.The next generation doesn’t need more instructions. They need more interruptions of love, curiosity, and concern, from the people that they know and can trust.So before we give our next piece of advice, let’s pause and ask: “Am I trying to fix them? Or am I truly trying to understand them?”We must commit to choosing the latter more often, we’ll raise not just successful youth, but strong, self-aware human beings. If we pay the price, it is inevitable that they will reward us with a connect.Here’s what Gen Z is silently craving from the adults in their lives:Presence over perfection: They don’t want perfect parents or perfect teachers. They want people who are real, approachable, and presentSpace to fail: Let them stumble without labelling them as careless. Failure is a teacher; let it do its jobSafe conversations: Mental health should not be taboo. Let them talk about anxiety, relationships, or career confusion without fear of judgmentPermission to be themselves: Not everyone is meant to code or be an entrepreneur. Help them explore, not just succeedRole models, not lecturers: Be someone they want to emulate, not avoid. Share your own vulnerabilities. Show them that being human is okay(The writer is an award-winning educator, who explores how empathy, storytelling and curiosity can redefine education)
