On the first day of school, my backpack is weightless, notebooks are clean, pencils are sharpened, pockets are organized. We believe we have space for everything, another binder, another club, and another difficult course.
Then, the year begins.
The two ‘all about me’ assignments become four quizzes, one test becomes three, and empty pockets gradually fill up with crumpled papers, empty gum wrappers, and forgotten worksheets. The backpack that felt light starts digging into my shoulders.
But what pulls me lower than the cluttered backpack is the overwhelming expectations to complete my hours of homework the day they are assigned, to get straight A’s, and to do every activity offered. By the time students reach their classrooms, they’re already carrying more than just a backpack, they’re carrying the normalized, overbearing burden that comes with being a student.
Nearly 40 percent of high school students experience persistent feelings of sadness or hopelessness, while 29 percent report experiencing poor mental health, according to a 2023 study done by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
When backpacks get excessively physically heavy, students are not told to become stronger, instead, students take something out of their pile. Yet in school, I rarely remove anything; students are told to adapt to an increasingly demanding workload while they already are under immense pressure, worsening the mental conditions that plague so many high schoolers.
Being a student will inevitably involve responsibilities. We will have tests, deadlines, activities, and difficult weeks. But academic achievement is more than a goal; for many students, it has become part of their identity.
A grade feels like a reflection of intelligence, rejection from a club feels like a reflection of worth, and difficult classes feel like a measure of capability. When accomplishments become attached to our sense of self, every setback feels significantly heavier.
This mindset is reinforced by comparison. Students constantly see classmates taking advanced courses, earning awards, leading organizations, and preparing for college. Although we rarely know the circumstances behind someone else’s achievements, it is easy to interpret their accomplishments as a standard we should meet. In trying to keep pace, students can lose sight of why they began pursuing these activities in the first place.
Even when students recognize that they are overwhelmed, putting something down can feel like failure. Dropping an activity can seem like giving up. Taking a night off from homework feels irresponsible. Choosing sleep over another hour of studying feels unproductive. We have become so accustomed to measuring ourselves by what we accomplish that rest can feel undeserved. However, removing something from an overloaded backpack is not a weakness; it is recognizing a limit before the weight becomes unbearable.
Schools and students cannot eliminate every source of stress, nor should they. Challenges teach perseverance, discipline and resilience. But there is a distinction between encouraging students to persevere and expecting them to endure an unsustainable workload. We should create an environment where asking for help, setting boundaries and prioritizing well-being are viewed as responsible choices rather than signs of inadequacy.
A backpack can only hold so much, and the same applies to students. Before reaching for another productivity strategy, we need to stop and ask what we are carrying and whether it is worth the weight.
Remember what that first day’s backpack felt like. Light and full of possibility.
Success should not be defined by how much we carry, but by recognizing what is weighing us down and letting it go.
