Social Media Feels Like a Classroom

Lately, I’ve been noticing familiar dynamics play out online, patterns that feel oddly familiar. They remind me of being back in a classroom.

You know the kids who always shot their hand up, full of confidence, ready to voice their answer. Just like in school, I would wonder how they stayed on top of everything and always seemed to know the answer to whatever question was being asked. The truth was, they studied. They prioritized their learning. And honestly, good on them for having an answer.

Then there were the kids who stayed pretty quiet and learned a lot by observing. You would not hear much from them until it was a subject that really energized them. Then their hands would shoot up and they would jump into class discussions with thoughtful responses.

And somewhere in between were the kids who knew the answer but were held back by fear. Fear of being wrong. Fear of raising their hand and looking dumb. That fear could be paralyzing. Better to say nothing than risk it. When someone else answered with confidence, they might feel validated, but also a quiet self-loathing for not having the courage to speak up themselves.

Then there were the kids who could not sit still. The class might start out interesting, but it was too much sitting and listening. Eventually they would drift into their imagination or completely tune out. We also had kids who genuinely wanted to learn but struggled to understand the content. The information came too fast. They could not keep up. That frustration built until they either tuned out or acted out.

I know there are a lot of nuances I am missing here, but stay with me. Because when I look at social media, I see the same classroom dynamics playing out every day, just on a much bigger stage.

The super confident kids are the ones posting daily. Whatever the subject, they are speaking on it. The important thing to remember is that they are sharing what they have learned and what they believe to be the truth. If during their formative years the well was poisoned with bias, bigotry, or hate, that is what comes out, delivered with the same confidence as writing a math formula on the board in front of the class. If they were raised with an open mindset and a healthy dose of empathy, that comes out too.

The same applies to the kids who occasionally participated. They might post every day for a month, then disappear entirely. What they share still reflects what they were fed, positive or negative. The ones who feared putting their hand up are often active on social media but stick to liking posts or adding the occasional one-word comment.

The kids who got lost in their imagination are often the ones whose brains light up on social media. Dopamine hit after dopamine hit. Clickbait and endless scrolling. For some, the need to find excitement in the world around them slowly fades. Then we come full circle to the kids who struggled most in the classroom. Too much information, not enough time to process, and a growing sense of invisibility. This is not one size fits all. For others, screens and predictable engagement formulas lose their luster quickly and become mundane. Being in the world and learning in real time still beats reading about it.

When translated to social media, the same thing happens. Information from multiple sources fuels fear and reinforces the idea that it is a dog eat dog world. Anger bubbles up. And just like struggling students without proper support, people develop maladaptive habits to cope.

We see it everywhere.

Social media’s original intent was connection. Rarely are we watching reels of people sharing their lives. More often, we are watching performances.

I am guilty of this too. Posting takes time and energy, and when I have both, it is usually because life feels lighter, often on holidays or when I am experiencing something new, which also explains why my posts tend to reflect the good moments. And when my daughter asks me to do a TikTok reel with her, I perform too, despite the fact that it stresses me out. She approaches choreography like a drill sergeant, and I am apparently never looking at the camera, despite being convinced that I am.

But I digress.

I believe in writing from wounds, but posting from scars. I do not post about my trials and tribulations. Social media is not my diary, and the world does not need to know everything I am working through.

In short, social media has us feeling more alienated than ever. I wish I knew the answer to how to make us more united. I could give the trite answer, love, but love who? Love what?

A few years ago, I read Good Inside by Dr. Becky Kennedy. I wish that book had existed when I was starting out as a parent. One concept that stayed with me was giving the most generous interpretation.

When situations come up and we hear something our kids did, our instinct is to jump to judgment. But when we approach the situation with empathy and the most generous interpretation, it changes the energy of the conversation. It opens space to understand the circumstances that led to a bad decision. If we can agree that no child is trying to do the wrong thing, and we lead with that generosity, we create space for understanding, validation, and guidance that can actually be received.

As I write this, I imagine my kids reading it and rolling their eyes.

I share this concept often, but I will openly admit that I really struggle to implement it.

I get fired up. I am ready to unleash my fury like anyone else. When I am fully enraged, my generosity of thought drops to zero. When your fight or flight is at a ten, it is best not to have a conversation.

The same goes for posting or reacting online. I can feel righteous, ready to demand justice, and ready to set the world on fire. But when the blaze dies down, the bridges of communication are often burned beyond recognition. Rebuilding them takes a long time.

What has helped me most is recognizing when I am in it, I am in it. Recentering does not always happen immediately. Sometimes it takes a day or two for the initial reaction to simmer down.

The idea of waiting 24 hours before responding is solid. Sitting with my anger until it reduces from a rolling boil to a simmer is essential.

I once heard Dr. Becky say, “Dr. Becky is not the parent of her kids.” I loved that honesty.

Sharing tools and concepts does not mean we have mastered them ourselves. It means we recognize their value.

We have been led to believe that for something to benefit our lives, we need to be proficient at it. That if a tool promotes self awareness, we must master it or it is pointless. I do not believe that anymore.

If my kids are watching, and I know they are, I want them to see someone who can feel deeply without reacting instantly. Someone who can hold anger without letting it lead. Someone who knows when to speak and when to step back. I will not always model that well, but I am trying, and I hope that effort counts for something.

If social media really is a classroom, then this is the kind I want to be in. One where curiosity matters more than confidence, where mistakes are part of learning, and where raising your hand is optional. I do not need to be the smartest voice in the room. I just want to keep learning.

I am still caught between wanting to speak up and wanting to stay connected. Between feeling righteous and wanting to be generous. I do not have a clean answer for how to hold both, but I am trying to notice when certainty hardens me and curiosity softens me. For now, that feels like the most honest place to stand.