Questions and Answers with Dr. Zainab Okolo

In May of this year, Dr. Zainab Okolo became Senior Vice President of Policy, Advocacy, and Government Relations at the Jed Foundation, the nation’s leading nonprofit that protects emotional health and prevents suicide for teens and young adults.  It was not just a new job for Okolo, who had previously led the Lumina Foundation’s work in student mental health, it was an inaugural position for the Jed Foundation which has moved from being a memorial initiative for a beloved son to the leading suicide prevention program in college mental health, to a national and international advocate for wellbeing strategies that support young people.  The arrival of Okolo signals both the rising importance of external policies in youth mental health and college mental health, and the organization’s own expansion into public affairs. 

When Okolo, Ed.D., LCMFT, who is a licensed therapist, led Lumina’s student mental health portfolio as a strategy officer,  she designed and established the foundation’s mental health partnerships and investments while advising key stakeholders, including the U.S. Department of Education (ED), the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services (HHS), the State Higher Education Executive Officers Association (SHEEO), the American Council on Education (ACE), and the Steve Fund.

She will now lead JED’s growing Advocacy and Government Relations function, leveraging key relationships with external networks to strengthen the organization’s national and state-level presence in advocating for new federal, state, and local support for a comprehensive approach to mental health and suicide prevention. Okolo led the Jed Foundation’s first policy national summit in October of this year which resulted in the foundation’s new Youth Mental Health Policy Strategies.

LW: This was a big move both for you and JED. How do you feel several months into the job? 

ZO: Oh, it feels full circle. I feel very fortunate as a marriage and family therapist for over a decade and having worked in higher education and those finding those two passions intersecting  – — I feel very lucky. I’ve only been with Jed now for six months and we’ve made some incredible strides, but as I tell my team, I’m building on 20 plus years of just fantastic work that JED has done with institutions, with high schools, with other private sector entities so I’m building on a very solid foundation and I feel very fortunate to have this ground to build on. I also feel really energized that there’s a constant sense of urgency when it comes to mental health work and advocacy; when you’re watching the data, when you’re watching the news, when you’re specifically focused on youth, there’s always a sense of urgency. There’s always a drive to create the solve sooner rather than later. Because what our suicide trends and rates are telling us is that there is an urgent need.  And for me, for as long as my career and time will allow, my goal is to create impact and change to bring suicide to zero. And I’m glad that I work at an organization that also has that as its North Star mission.

LW: The new position signals an expansion of JED’s work.  Do you feel this was a natural evolution? 

ZO: I do think that the pivot towards having an inaugural position focused specifically on policy, advocacy and government relations was really just a nod to the time that Jed found itself in within the national landscape. As you know, Jed Foundation has been a mental health advocacy organization that has been around for two decades now, focused on youth mental health and suicide prevention. And a lot of the work that Jed did was specifically targeted at ensuring colleges and universities had the appropriate programming and supports to serve youth mental health, resources and needs.

Jed has since expanded into working within high schools, and it’s done a lot of work to inform the ways mental health services are provided even in elementary schools, so across the K-20 pipeline. But Jed did all of this under the then existing stigma around mental health. So again, think 20 years ago when this started, when the Satow family unfortunately lost their son Jed to suicide, this was at the height of us turning a blind eye to what we already knew were challenges around youth mental health and the conversations that we just weren’t willing to have as a nation. Now, fast-forward to the pandemic exacerbating a lot of those preexisting needs and demanding that we have systemic approaches in which we are strategically looking at ways to scale programs like Jed Campus. It only made sense for Jed to bring someone in that could help them think through some of that planning and engage state and federal level actors and make considerations for what it looks like to appropriately inform policy. Before I came on, we had what as “a coalition of the willing,” that took on some of this work, but having a separate portfolio for it I think was just about timing and again, watching what the nation really needed.

“I think we take for granted the job that stigma did on our college campuses on the topics of mental health and suicide prevention.”

LW: In what ways will the organization work on policy and with what stakeholders?

ZO: I might start with funding. From my work at Lumina, and now at Jed, the question is where does investment in mental health go? And where will that investment make impact in the larger work in terms of increasing access to mental health resources or helping to solve for the rising rates of suicide amongst younger and younger citizens? One of the things that we have to make consideration for is how we sustain programming nationally. We’ve had conversations with Department of Education, we’ve had conversations with the Department of Health and Human Services. Beyond that, we’ve also thought about research. What are the indicators that we’re looking for to determine success within mental health programming and implementation? We’ve had conversations with SAMHSA, we’ve had conversations with the CDC, we’ve also had conversations with state level folks so when I think about policy, I think not only about federal policy and the national landscape, I think about our, our many little countries, AKA our states.

I say that because there is huge variation in how states invest in mental health and what they choose to invest in. Some states have done a lot of work around increasing programmatic functions and presence like Jed on college campuses and within institutions, while others have leaned heavily into bringing in teletherapy supports to their campuses where it made sense, like in New Jersey, for example.

It feels like a moment of opportunity where it is all hands on deck and everyone has a role to play in making sure that the way we look at mental health is from a collective bargaining approach and that it is seamless in its implementation.

LW: Regarding COVID funds, is there a sense that there’s an appetite for making sure that whatever we invested in mental health, particularly on big state institution campuses, will continue in some fashion? Is this a concern? 

ZO: I think that that’s an opportunity. I think there’s an opportunity for there to be additional investments in mental health, particularly within states. And not just limited to state institutions, but also private institutions, community colleges especially, and even minority serving institutions. I do think though that the funding that’s coming from governors who have had a chance to call out separate budgets for mental health, that’s what we’re really watching closely and seeing how those budgets within states have made impact and driven forward some of the mental health initiatives by state. Because of those investments, JED has collaborated with the State Higher Education Executive Officers Association (SHEEO) to create a mental health learning community whereby states figure out how to go about investing that funding, how to make impact within their state, how to read and then interpret the data around the needs of youth within their state and what partnerships were appropriate to make now that they had some additional funding to support that work that they’re doing. That partnership in particular that we have with SHEEO will help us inform future investments. So my biggest priority is making sure that when we do have funding, that we know what to do with it and we know what’s working within the nation. Otherwise, we run the threat of not being able to appropriately defend what we’re investing in and how impactful those dollars really can be.

LW: Drawing on all of the work you’ve done in mental health, what would you say are the most important things we need to work on?

ZO: I think first about two things. One is messaging and the other is representation. Messaging first. I think we take for granted the job that stigma did on our college campuses on the topics of mental health and suicide prevention. It stopped a lot of work that could have been going on before we had a real crisis on our hands. And so what I never want to ever see happen again to us as a nation is where we get silent about our very basic human needs, which include mental health. It was almost like we were daring to say to each other at one point that the pandemic happened, get over it, let’s move forward. And we know what the data told us about the enrollment crisis, and we knew about what youth were saying about not wanting to return to business as usual. The CDC’s release of data that had suicide rates as low as 10 years old and the second leading cause of death for 10 year olds in 2022 – what that taught us was that we can’t afford to not have these conversations consistently and invariably. We can’t afford to talk student success or student persistence or completion without first considering mental health and the necessary supports. 

I think that then we can start to talk about sustainability and implementation. If I had a magic wand, both financial and otherwise, I would double or triple the current practitioner workforce right now. There is such a shortage when it comes to ensuring that there are enough practitioners to meet the demand that we’re now finally tuning our ears to hear. And then within that demand, ensuring that there’s appropriate representation, not only representation in terms of diversity, equitable representation of diverse, racially diverse practitioners on all college campuses, but also diversity in modality. A psychiatrist versus a therapist versus a social worker have very different functions in the same way that if you broke your leg, you wouldn’t just go to CVS. You would want a specialist to help you with perhaps your very unique challenge. 

I think the other piece that we can expand on as well is how we go about training non-mental health practitioners to recognize when students or youth need help, making training the trainer models more consistent. And we have a few frameworks that exist in the ether, but making sure that they’re consistently available across college campuses is critical because what we’re hearing from faculty and staff alike is that not only do they want to be able to help students, they want to be able to serve them appropriately, but they need the appropriate training and they need to know where to go themselves when they need help. So those are some of the issues we need to invest time and money in. 

LW: Fundamental to JED’s work has been equity and access topped by the Equity in Mental Health Framework.  Where does that work stand now? 

ZO: Back in 2000 when JED was established, one of the first priorities was to ensure that the work that we were doing was equitable and accessible to all students. In 2017, building upon our existing comprehensive approach, we developed the equity and mental health framework in partnership with the Steve Fund, which provides recommendations and implementation strategies to colleges and universities to better support the mental health of students of color. And the way this shows up in the work that we do every day with college campuses is we do pre and post assessments. And within the pre-assessment work that we do, we always ask schools specific things, such as what representation looks like on their campus, how they feel best poised to serve students of color and students with intersecting identities including LGTQIA students, for example, what does it look like in terms of leadership and advocacy?  Is there diversity there and how does that play into the mental health of students of color? 

We’ve made this a priority because of what we know from the data. Students of color are disproportionately impacted when it comes to mental health because of some of the systemic barriers that they already face outside of the college campus such asbeing more likely to be first generation students and not having a plethora of firsthand role modeling on their college campuses unless they choose to go to an HBCU or another MSI. And so we wanted to make sure that when we thought about the work that we’re doing, that this was baked into all of it and if we remain that thoughtful, then all students benefit from those strategies. And it has definitely remained a key part and a key focus of our work. The other thing that I’ll mention is more recently we’ve had to double down on that commitment given some of the challenges that we’ve seen play out over the last year or so, the SCOTUS decision and the striking down of affirmative action, looking at certain Senate bills within Texas and Florida, for example, that struck down DEI initiatives, some of which directly impact the programs and the folks that we work with on campuses. So we are waving a flag that the journey towards equity and equality across a couple of different facets is not over. And when it comes to mental health, we have to be bringing that to the forefront and calling it out if we are serious about serving all students with equity and fidelity.

Mindful Unrest

When your house is burning, it feels like the whole world is on fire. That is how one student described her experience since October 7, when the heated protests and divisive debates over the war in Gaza erupted on her campus and on campuses across the country. For many students like her, the conflict is personal, it is political, and it is tangled up in all the things she is already struggling with: finding her identity, navigating friendships, and striving to retain intellectual curiosity while also feeling really angry.

For higher education, the Israel-Hamas war has rocked its own foundation, exposing not just elephants in the room but real wooly mammoths like the definition of free speech, the role of the presidential pulpit in geopolitical events, and the degree to which institutions tolerate or enable extreme political views. All of these issues relate to the overall wellbeing of students and of campus communities, issues that have emerged as important priorities for colleges and universities given the rates of anxiety and depression students, and faculty and staff, have been reporting.  

It would seem there would be no better time for campuses to be working on those elements that we know help humans flourish, such as empathy, civility, community and self-awareness. But very little of that is cutting through the vitriol, blame, and anger that are unavoidably replayed on non-silenced screens.  How can higher education use this moment in time, and others before it, to understand some of what is happening and to begin to heal through the power of its own resources and assets? LearningWell asked a number of people what they think.  Here is our first guest interview.

Gene Beresin, MD, MAis executive director of The Clay Center for Young Healthy Minds at Massachusetts General Hospital (MGH), a full professor of psychiatry at Harvard Medical School (HMS), and senior educator in child and adolescent psychiatry at MGH.

LW: What is your reaction to the way the conflict in the Middle East is playing out on college campuses?  

GB: Colleges are places that can raise issues that are highly controversial, that involve conflict, that generate high levels of emotion and that require civil conversations.  We want college campuses to be places where students feel safe enough to speak their minds, to disagree in ways that are interesting, that engage them. The problem in this particular instance with the war between Israel and Hamas is that I don’t think that there has been sufficient attention given to how to deal with conflict.

We try to teach our younger kids social emotional learning, principles of wellbeing, controlling our own emotions such as rage, shame, humiliation, passion, and in ways which are helpful. But what’s happened here in my view is that lines are being drawn in the sand. The students have been taking sides. And even though the leadership of many colleges have said, “we want this to be a safe place, and that there’s no room for terrorism or hatred or brutal behavior,” I have not heard much at all about principles of conflict resolution. It seems to me that students on both sides of the issue need to understand that there’s tremendous power to resolving conflict and dealing with conflict. And there are principles, for example, of noting the appreciation of differences, of acceptance, of tolerance, and the ability to love and respect each other despite our disagreements. But that does not seem to be happening.  I’ve heard a lot about free speech. I’ve heard a lot about the right to express your own opinions. I’ve heard a lot of platitudes, but I have not heard anything about principles.

LW:  How would these principles apply on college campuses today where disagreement appears to be the only thing people are focused on? 

GB:  We need to hold open conversations and active listening to both points of view. If we take a pedantic view of this and we look at history, both the Palestinians and the Jewish people in that region, both groups of people have been conquered, oppressed, displaced and brutalized by outside influences. If you look at it, there’s a lot in common between the Palestinian people and the Jewish people and we should take a step back and appreciate both points of view. 

“I’ve heard a lot about free speech. I’ve heard a lot about the right to express your own opinions. I’ve heard a lot of platitudes, but I have not heard anything about principles.”

Principle two is avoid being judgmental. When one is a subject of criticism or rage or a personal affront from a mental health standpoint, there’s the risk of feeling blamed, devalued, shamed, humiliated.  When on the defensive, the impulse is to counterattack. It basically fires up the amygdala and the fight or flight response, and it doesn’t generate oxytocin, which is the kind of neurochemical that brings us together.

Another principle is having frequent conversations that are under control. Many of the protests that I’ve seen have not been well controlled. They’ve been people screaming at each other. We’re not going to get anywhere by screaming at each other. We’re not going to resolve conflict. Another principle is learning to apologize. If I’ve offended you, if you’ve offended me, there’s tremendous power in apologizing for lashing out, for attacking another point of view. And what do you have to lose? Nothing really. You have a lot to gain by seeing what’s in common and by making one’s own reparations. I think that’s another principle of conflict resolution that I have not seen much of at all. 

Violence should, in every case, not be tolerated. Not tolerated in the Middle East, not tolerated in the United States, not tolerated on college campuses. And violence, I mean in word as well as in deed. Name-calling, attacking personally, ruthless behavior should be unacceptable. 

I think another principle is that the solution to this problem is not going to be easy, and it’s not one side giving into another or one side being right or one side being wrong.  It’s complicated, it’s nuanced. It requires accountability. You don’t resolve a conflict like this by a win or a loss. You resolve it in a way that leaves some things unresolved by demonstration of empathy, putting yourself in the other person’s shoes. I have not heard much at all from anyone including administrations or studentprotesters, about empathically understanding what the other side has endured. I can’t stress it enough. If the students can’t empathize with the impact of these horrifying events, if they can’t see that the trauma that’s happened to virtually everyone is extraordinarily traumatic, extraordinarily sad, extraordinarily dehumanizing, then we’re not going to get anywhere.

We want our kids from toddlerhood through young adulthood and beyond to understand principles of having civil conversations. And for the most part, these have not been civilized. So is there demonstration of respect? When you’re all fired up, you don’t demonstrate respect. And when you don’t demonstrate respect, you foster trauma, you foster distrust, dishonesty in some sense, and saying things that are hurtful and traumatic to other people. We should be able to respect differences. We try to teach our young children to take turns, to use the golden rule, to do unto others as you would have them do unto you. I don’t see much of that. I’m getting back to basics here. Basics that are psychological principles and principles of conversation and understanding that we want to teach kids from toddlerhood through adulthood.

Another principle of civil conversations is telling stories. What we’ve learned from all of our major scriptures, whether it’s the Quran or the Torah or the Bible, is that every scripture in the world lives through narratives and I think people can really begin to listen to each other through stories and through narratives. One of the reasons why all the scriptures have been built upon narratives is because narratives generate not only emotions, but questions about trajectories, about lives, about family, about loss, about trauma.

LW: What do you think about this from a mental health perspective?

GB: The bottom line is that this insoluble situation, this inflammatory situation is not only traumatizing, but breeds depression, anxiety, stress, and in some cases, hopelessness, loneliness, and suicidal thinking. I mean, it has all the elements of inflaming the mental health crisis that our college students are already undergoing. 

Stages of rage and trauma and high levels of emotion are not good for physical, emotional, or mental health. They fire up the immune system. They affect our sleep. They change our hormonal systems. They suppress the releases of oxytocin that makes us feel together and connected. So they have physiological effects that are dangerous. They have mental health effects that are dangerous, and they foster social disconnection, which I think is very detrimental for students on college campuses. So neurophysiologically, emotionally, and behaviorally and psychologically, these kinds of vitriolic demonstrations are not conducive to mental health. One can still express one’s point of view in a powerful way and not take a beating physically, mentally, emotionally, behaviorally.

Look, anger is a normal response. Anger prepares us for fight or flight. It’s a normal emotion. But when anger is extreme, when anger becomes laced with rage and hate, it is uncontrollable, and it clouds our cognition. It clouds our thinking. It clouds our ability to engage with others, and it puts us in an attack mode. So I think one of the other things that I would welcome is for not just students, but everyone involved in this very difficult and traumatic situation, is to use principles of anger management. If we can cool our jets, we’re in a much better place to actually talkwith each other and have civil conversations and have some kind of conflict resolution. And what this means is knowing when you’re angry and knowing when you’re coming from a place of anger rather than a more neutral emotional state.

Identifying your triggers for anger is really important. We all know road rage – the car that cuts us off, we want to just kind of slam into it. But we don’t do it. It’s okay to have impulses and angry impulses, but it’s not okay to act out on it. And one has toidentify one’s triggers. A lot of times the triggers here are identification with one’s cultural heritage, but that doesn’t necessarily mean attacking the other person. And a third principle of anger management is controlling your thoughts. Yes, we’re feeling angry. Yes, we’re feeling hateful. Yes, we’re feeling that we’ve got to do something, but it’s like one of my favorite supervisors said to me once, “A lot of times when you’re doing therapy, don’t just do something, sit there.” And I don’t see people just sitting there.  I don’t see people sitting there and taking things in and processing it without impulsively blurting things out. 

LW: How do you think colleges and universities should react? 

GB: I think the role of the leadership should be to provide and empower different segments on campus to actually promote these principles, so we need faculty and student training in conflict resolution,  civil conversations, and anger management. Secondly, this is not a “one-off.”  As a child, you learn things in places of worship, in the boys and girls club, in the community, in the home, on the playground.  We need stakeholders on campus to communicate these principles in reinforcing ways.  The dorm leaders, the heads of our student mental health service, the dean of wellbeing, our clubs, our athletic teams, our coaches to all engage in some way in modeling civilized behavior because what we are seeing now is not civilized. 

It’s not as though we need to have an assembly or a meeting at the student center and have a debate and then we’re done. No, it’s not one and done. These are ongoing conversations that need to occur with dignity and with respect and with thoughtfulness and kindness and compassion and empathy in multiple different forums so that they can reinforce each other.  The leadership of colleges can say, “Look, there are no simple solutions.” Not many presidents have said this. “There are no simple solutions. But let’s try to turn things around.”

Let’s not let rage and hate lead to what we’re seeing in the Middle East with tragedy and loss of life. Let’s try to make our campus a model of civility. Let’s have multiple places in which we can communicate with each other respectfully in a calm fashion, present opposing points of view, agree to disagree, bring in history, bring in culture, bring in personal narratives, bring in spiritual narratives.  And let’s do it differently. Do we want to replicate this? Do we want to perpetuate a stalemate, or do we want to do something that actually brings us to a higher level of empathy and understanding?

The Long Tether of Student Debt

D’Aubre’ Lewis has always been a good student. That track record is a comfort for the sophomore at North Carolina Agricultural and Technical (A&T) State University when the financial road to becoming a therapist feels overwhelming. On top of her federal loans, she needs to come up with $8,000 of tuition each semester, mostly from summer earnings back home in Baltimore. She can’t work too much during the school year because she needs to keep a 3.5 GPA for her scholarship, and attending part-time isn’t an option her scholarship allows. Her loans will total about $20,000 when she graduates, and then grow with whatever she’ll need to borrow for graduate school.

“It’s a lot of pressure,” she concedes. “I’ll be the first one on my mom’s side to finish college.” Her mother contributes what she can, but also supports several of D’Aubre’s older siblings wholeft school before finishing their degrees. D’Aubre’ is all too aware that if she doesn’t keep juggling the plates just right, she won’t be able to graduate, and will still be responsible for the loans. 

“I’ll be in debt my whole life,” she says with flat pragmatism. “I just want to get the degree.”

Getting the degree has never been so expensive for so many people. Student loan debt in the US has swelled to nearly $1.8 trillion owed by 44 million people. An estimated 55% of all undergraduates finish school carrying debt. And this doesn’t include the number of people who, like D’Aubre’s siblings, didn’t finish—and are still responsible for payments, but with their earning potential unenhanced by a degree. 

Student loans are the second-largest type of consumer-generated debt, just behind mortgages, and account for 9.5% of the consumer debt in the US. But unlike mortgages, they have the stultifying effect of suppressing the progress to adulthood, as student borrowers put off milestones like home ownership andmarriage until they feel more secure.

“The reality of what over-leveraged looks like depends entirely upon who holds the loans, and what other life circumstances they’re juggling that make monthly payments difficult.”

The burden of student loan debt has become a growing part of the national conversation about not just loan forgiveness, but the value of a college degree. While the high cost of education continues to rise—169% in the last four decades—earnings for new graduates in the workforce have not, with wages for 22-27 year olds increasing by just 19% in that time. 

“The math doesn’t add up. The business model is unsustainable,” says Kevin Fudge, a higher education finance executive with 20 years experience as a consultant to schools and families. “People overleverage themselves, and end up hurt by taking on more than they can chew.”

The reality of what overleveraged looks like depends entirely upon who holds the loans, and what other life circumstances they’re juggling that make monthly payments difficult. 

“We think of the ability to pay off student debt as only having to do with student debt,” wrote Mark Huelsman, author of The Debt Divide research paper published in 2015 by Demos, an organization for democratic and economic solutions rooted in racial equity. “[But] we know the ability to pay off your loans has everything to do with wages and the ability to gain secure employment, it has everything to do with housing affordability, it has everything to do with child-care costs.”

In short, borrowers are increasingly stymied by the life challenges they hoped would be made easier by getting a degree.In this way, student loan debt is becoming the long covid of higher education.

The unequal demographics of debt

Looking at data like gender and race, it becomes apparent that not all debt burdens are created equal. Women carry a disproportionate amount of the nation’s overall student debt (66%), are more likely than men to take out loans (41% of female undergraduates, compared to 35% of male), and have parents that are less likely to save for their education (39%, compared to 50%). And since women earn 82 cents on the dollar compared to their male counterparts (60 cents for Black women, 55 cents for Latinas), it takes longer to pay off the loans. The increased time to repay also means that women pay more interest over the life of their loans. Perhaps unsurprisingly,women report higher levels of stress and lower quality of living while they do.

Black graduates have an average of $52,000 in student loan debt—$25,000 more than white college graduates, according to the National Center for Education Statistics. Black students made up around 14% of all students entering college but constitute more than 27% of those with $50,000 in debt, and nearly 22% of those with over $100,000. Four years after graduation, 48% of Black students owe an average of 12.5% more than they borrowed.

“In addition, Black Americans are more likely to have a disproportionate amount of parent loan debt,” said Fudge,“given the historically Black colleges’ over-reliance on students who are propped up by parents with PLUS loans.” 

And the parental loans create a multi-generational debt pressure for the sandwich generation. Fudge recalls one woman he’d mentored who took out loans to go to Spellman College. To make up the gap between what she had and what she needed, her parents took out loans, too, as did her grandparents and her aunt. And then she didn’t finish, plunging three generations into debt for a degree that never materialized. The pain points are at risk of increasing from there, as students who leave college without completing are more than twice as likely as graduates to default on their loans.

The temptation is strong for a family to go all in on a relative’s acceptance to college, which is why many end up with a double-decker club debt sandwich. A school will offer aid packages, and present sums that should represent the so-called family contribution, supposedly based upon what the family can afford. But Fudge advises families not to let the college define what’s affordable—and not be tempted to give up their assets. 

“On paper, if you own a home, they treat the home like an ATM to pull money out of,” he said. “That decision, that investment, impacts everyone, not just the individual child.” 

When parents sacrifice everything for their kids to go to college, he says, it may feel like a Hallmark movie, but the reality is it’s a decision with serious repercussions; there are options and avenues available to young people, who have time on their side. There is little in the way of aid and safety nets for older people who don’t have any assets for retirement.

Risky return on investment (ROI)

Undergraduates carrying debt can’t help being affected by the questions and doubts swirling around their choices. Is going to college going to be worth it? Is this degree going to be able to land me a good job? Do I have to compromise what I love to do for something more lucrative? Can I justify majoring in the humanities?

“Today, the reality of student loans definitely informs the choice of majors,” says Beth Throne, senior associate dean of Student Affairs at Franklin & Marshall College.  “Students are 100% mindful of fiscal choices, and if anyone isn’t, it’s because they have the economic luxury of choice to approach it differently.”

Throne is seeing the confluence of several financial factors shaping students’ choices of careers: Pressures among first-generation students to show their degree’s ROI to their parents; students increasingly committing to jobs before graduation to have a “bird in the hand”; and seniors’ reluctance to bind themselves to further debt of graduate school, unless they have access to resources and don’t require aid. 

She believes it’s the job of the school to equip students with the best information to back up choosing the course of study, and career, they love. “If we’re doing our job in liberal arts, we’re showing them how to apply value to their chosen field, to do what they love and find ways to make it monetarily rewarding.” 

Last year Throne worked with a student who was a double major in business and creative writing. The young woman had no passion for business, but as a first-generation college student, was struggling to justify writing. 

“She wasn’t fulfilled in business and was sort of looking for permission to drop it as a major. We helped her secure a very prestigious internship at a literary agency, setting herself up well for the business applications of literature,” says Throne. “She was thrilled, and so were her parents—who of course wanted her to do what she loved, but also to be able to support herself doing it.”

Life, delayed

How much does student loan debt affect the way young adults progress toward their life goals? A lot, as it turns out.

A CNBC/Momentive poll in 2022 found that 81% of people with student loans say they’ve had to delay one or more key life milestones because of their debt. In the breakdown of data, 42% said they’d delayed paying off other loans, 38% didn’t save for retirement, 33% put off buying a home, 16% held back on starting a family, and 12% avoided pursuing a different job. 

Student loan debt was designed to make the impossible possible. Instead, it now prevents people from making decisions about their life, according to Nicole Smith, chief economist at the Georgetown University Center on Education and the Workforce. “Student loan debt was supposed to be good debt—the type that you take out so that you can invest in your human capital formation so that you can live your life afterward,” Smith said,“and it’s morphed into something much more insidious.”

Looking at debt through the lens of age, most of the total national debt belongs to the 25- to 34-year-old age group. But on average, 35- to 49-year-olds owe the most money as individuals, with 50- to 61-year-olds not far behind. When the Biden administration found ways to cancel certain demographics of federal debt, one person who benefitted from the slate-wiping was Chuck Ertel-Hoy, a 72-year-old retired professor in Indiana, who still owed $41,000 after paying his loans consistently whileteaching. “I didn’t know how I was going to keep paying this in retirement,” he said. “This changes everything.”

On the early end of debt chronology are current students like Emma Lamoreaux, a senior at Temple University. An in-state resident from Hershey, PA, Emma chose the least expensive of her acceptances, and has worked throughout her four years to keep her loans as low as possible. But with plans to go to law school, future debt is “a pretty big looming thing” that weighs on her as heavily as getting accepted to the programs.

“When I was younger, my goals were to go to college, graduate, get a house, a job, a dog, have kids. And now I feel like I’m not really sure,” she says. “It feels like my student loans will put all of what I thought I wanted on hold indefinitely. I don’t really have a plan for much else of anything anymore beyond the loans. I’m kind of in a no-man’s-land.”

The degree to which debt causes excessive stress and impedes personal growth creates a disturbing paradox for colleges and universities who view higher education as leading to a life of flourishing. “Colleges and universities seek to empower their students so that they will thrive post-graduation based on the experiences they have had,” said John Volin, executive vice president for Academic Affairs and provost at the University of Maine.  “However, financial wellbeing is an important domain of overall wellbeing. And this is one of the reasons why we must tackle college affordability.”  

Aging into debt

The size of the debt, and the way it’s handled in the first 10 years, determines how it continues to affect later stages of life. K, a 33-year-old financial executive, still carries a loan balance of about $20,000, and her husband has $40,000. They are homeowners with a two-year-old daughter, and would like to have another child. But they are already paying $1,700 a month in daycare. 

“How can we even think about affording her future college? There’s very little we’re able to put aside, let alone start retirement savings,” she says. “It’s a different world than when our parents were doing this. The cost of living has gone up so much, but the wages haven’t caught up to it. None of my friends have pensions, and social security is going to be a much smaller part of our retirement. You plan ahead as much as possible, but you feel screwed no matter what choices you make.”

As the years pass for those whose debt is remaining and compounding, there are the concerns for their own college-aged children whose debt they can’t help shoulder. KK is a divorced mother with three college-aged children, but she can’t co-sign their loans because of the years she fell off-schedule with her own payments, in the early PhD years that she was juggling diapers and debt. Now a full-time associate professor of cultural anthropology, she is still more than $100,000 deep in her own outstanding debt. 

“It’s a constant reality, always on my mind. I’ve tried to raise my children so this isn’t their reality. They have to have the work ethic and be able to do well but there’s not a lot of margin for error,” she says. One of her children is on full scholarship at an Ivy League school. Another was accepted to some schools last year, but without scholarships, has not been able to attend until he can navigate his own loans. “I wish I could help more. But also I kind of don’t. This is how you dig deep to figure out what you really want.”

B, a 44-year-old divorced mother of a college-aged daughter, left being a college professor a few years ago for a more lucrative position as a communications executive. Her PhD is tucked under her bed, both literally and metaphorically, and theslowly shrinking $40,000 debt molders there, too. A few years ago, a man she’d been dating broke off the relationship when he found out she was still carrying loans. “He saw it as a liability,” she says. 

Daily bread

Students like Emma regard their loans as future burdens, an IOU taped to the horizon. But for some others, the future debt loadcoexists alongside imminent need. Without the security of school housing and meal plans, many students live hand-to-mouth alongside peers who don’t think twice about daily mochaccinos. 

In Class, a recently released memoir, author Stephanie Land writes about cleaning homes to make ends meet while she attended the University of Montana as a single mother. The book is a sequel to her bestselling memoir, Maid, which became a critically acclaimed Netflix series about her escape from an abusive relationship with her toddler daughter. Land’s jackpot is acceptance into college in another state, through a combination of scholarships, financial aid, and student loans. But tuition doesn’t cover rent, health care, transportation, or childcare solutions while she attends class and cleans homes. Land relies on food stamps, and she’s often hungry. 

Unfortunately, not being on a college meal plan—and not having money for food—isn’t entirely an anomaly. Today, food pantries are cropping up on more and more campuses across the country, including The Cherry Pantry at Temple University, the Aggie Cupboard at New Mexico State University, and the Ole Miss Food bank. More than 600 campuses have signed on as members of the national nonprofit Swipe Out Hunger, which has served more than two million meals and funded $200,000 in grants to alleviate food insecurity.

“Maybe my college education was an unnecessary luxury,” Land wrote in Class. “Who the —- was I to get a Bachelor of Arts in English? There weren’t a lot of jobs for people with degrees in creative writing. Even now, with loans, grants, and scholarships, there was no way I could pay off the money I had already borrowed. The irony was not lost on me that in order to make enough money to pay off my student loans, I needed to take out more…Given the monumental sum, I knew with certainty that I would have debt for the rest of my life.” 

Land was aware that by the time many borrowers paid off their loans they were easily double the original amount borrowed, and she envisioned never being able to afford a car, house, or to help her own children go to college. 

“The degree to which I was —-ed was overwhelming. But this was GOOD debt, I told myself, a GOOD investment… Beyond college, I’d magically qualify for jobs because of a paper that cost me fifty thousand dollars, and then we’d live happily ever after.” 

She writes this last bit with cheeky irony. But she was one of the ones who, against all odds, did thread that needle less than a decade ago to emerge with work, success, and debt headed in the right direction. Her author’s photo smiles from the book jacket like a billboard of what is possible even when the odds seem impossibly stacked against you. Part of her early success is due to dogged navigation of every bit of available aid, every piece of paperwork, no matter how exhausted she was. 

“There are really high hurdles for people who are poor, and everyone applauds when they have the fortitude to keep going like five Energizer Bunnies with five jobs and finally achieve that degree and that job,” says KK, the anthropology professor and mother of three, who still works in a café on weekends. “But early on, those same people are telling you that you shouldn’t want what you want. It feels like you have to try five times harder and read every single line of small print on any loans you sign. But you do it. Because what choice do you have?”

Every Student, Everywhere

Loren Muwonge has lived in Milwaukee, Wisconsin all her life. A senior in high school, Loren’s passion for the future of her city is as striking as her résumé. In addition to being a star student in the top percentile of her graduating class, Loren is the district 2 representative for the Milwaukee County Youth Commission, where she promotes civic engagement and provides a student perspective to policymakers charged with advancing educational and racial equity among Milwaukee youth. She is also a member of the Student Enrichment Program for Underrepresented Professions (StEP-UP) at the Medical College of Wisconsin; a Leadership Enterprise for a Diverse America (LEDA) scholar at Princeton; and an active volunteer for her church’s community outreach programs. In October, she spoke at a national policy summit on young adult mental health sponsored by the Jed Foundation.  

Loren Muwonge

When Loren speaks about what compelled her to advocate for education reform, equity and inclusion, and mental wellbeing on the national stage, she emphasizes the local roots of her activism. A 2018 study by the Brookings Institution’s Metropolitan Policy Program found that Milwaukee had the highest “black-white segregation” of any American metropolitan area.  This modern reality is largely due to decades of redlining, the discriminatory practice of denying loans and services to certain neighborhoods classified as “hazardous” to investment—the effects of which Loren has personally witnessed. As a Youth Commissioner, her initiatives include addressing and repairing the harm wrought by redlining in Milwaukee, as well as education reform, equitable resource distribution, and mental and behavioral healthcare access for low-income youth and students of color. 

During her Youth Commission’s swearing-in ceremony, Milwaukee County Executive David Crowley, who himself served on the county’s first-ever youth commission, remarked of the initiative, “Too often young voices go unheard; their problems, they go unaddressed, and a vicious cycle of disengagement and neglect perpetuates the problems that we see each day.” 

In hearing her story, it is clear that Loren’s voice, and those she amplifies, will not go unheard. 

LearningWell had the privilege to interview Loren Muwonge, and the following is a summary of our conversation. 

LearningWell: What would you like LearningWell readers to know about your background and how you began your advocacy journey?

Muwonge: I come from a redlined area in Wisconsin, one of the most segregated places in the nation. So, it’s really obvious and sometimes discouraging to see how that segregation manifests in my community, where some neighborhoods look better than others, and the areas that look worse and have fewer opportunities are the ones that are predominantly populated by minorities and people of color. That has led a lot of my advocacy work—seeing how redlining affects quality of life for residents, such as low-income communities having worse air quality than their suburban counterparts.

LearningWell: How did your advocacy work begin to include student mental health? 

Muwonge: I’m very inspired by Fred Hampton [of the Black Panther Party]. I was impressed and inspired by Hampton’s efforts to improve the success of his community by creating a free breakfast program for school children. I looked at my community, my peers, and their needs and I began to identify that my community can’t truly thrive without accounting for the mental health of the students. And for me, it really just became a matter of, okay, right now there is a need to improve mental health, especially in my district, in relation to the pandemic and the rising crime that we’re seeing with school shootings. I realized the best way that I could help was accounting for the mental health of my community by directly listening to the concerns of my peers.

LearningWell: Why is it important for education policymakers, administrators, and faculty to hear student perspectives on mental health and wellbeing?

“While everyone who pursues higher education has worked hard to be there, not everybody has been adequately supported to thrive in that place.”

Muwonge: We are the people directly affected by education policy, and while professionals may be able to look at data to assess trends—they might even spend time in the classroom, proctoring, observing—they can’t experience it firsthand. The data doesn’t replace the firsthand experience of being a student at this moment in time. We live in an evolving nation, with new factors affecting education, such as A.I., the rise in school shootings, and the student experience during the pandemic. It would be to their benefit if policymakers would talk to those directly affected, since we can provide feedback, voice our concerns, and give a human perspective that the data can’t. 

LearningWell: Based on your K-12 experience, do you believe that student wellbeing is a priority in American education?

Muwonge: I do not believe that student wellbeing is a priority in American public schools. There are many aspects to that issue, including the hours that teachers are working. I believe that teachers in America are undervalued, and they’re not given adequate support, whether it be for school supplies, resources, or fair pay. And I think that truly seeps into the education that students receive, because teachers don’t have enough time to account for factors such as wellbeing, especially since there are many parameters set in place that make it difficult for teachers to help and intervene. And then there are limits on their time; they have so much curricular content to get through, and they’re not being adequately supported themselves. 

LearningWell: Much of LearningWell’s audience is involved in higher education. What would you like them to know about the student experience? As you prepare to head to college, what do you hope to see on campus in terms of mental health, equity and inclusion, or student wellbeing? 

Muwonge: I’d like them to account for the fact that while everyone who pursues higher education has worked hard to be there, not everybody has been adequately supported to thrive in that place. And it’s important to consider the fact that many people may not have the necessary K-12 education that they need to succeed in higher education. They may not have the financial support that they need to thrive, whether they struggle with tuition costs or just being able to afford groceries, transportation, or visiting family back home if they attend college out of state. Again, everybody’s worked hard to be there, but not everybody’s being adequately supported to thrive. What I hope to see when I get to college is financial freedom, financial security for myself and my peers. I’d like to see universities place an emphasis on requiring all students to pursue an internship or some sort of professional experience within their college education, because analyzing the statistics of our nation right now, a college education in most cases isn’t enough. Many colleges do have access to different internship opportunities, but not all students utilize them or even know about those programs. If colleges were encouraging or even requiring students to gain exposure in their fields, I believe it would help set their students up for success. 

LearningWell: You’re now a high school senior in the midst of the college application process. Do you anticipate that institutions’ mental health programs and resources will have any bearing on your college decision? 

Muwonge: A lack of mental health services would be extremely deterring. I’ve done some research into wellbeing resources, and it has weeded out certain colleges. If I find that they aren’t able to adequately support and account for my and my peers’ mental health, especially when you’re considering out-of-state colleges where you won’t have in-state insurance, or you won’t have family close by, it affects the decision. If you are low-income, it may not be as easy to afford mental health services, and it’s important for me to go to a university that will accommodate that. If I’m investing into this university for my education, I’d like to see that what I invest is going to serve me and my peers. 

LearningWell: Do you plan on continuing your advocacy work when you go to college? 

Muwonge: I’m intentional about making a home somewhere that has convenient transportation and is a walkable city. That way I’m able to contribute to different communities and local organizations, so that I can continue serving in a way that is bigger than myself and bigger than my college campus.

UR Well

For the first 30 minutes, University of Rochester academic advisor Hana Goldstein thought her advisee seemed totally fine. Suddenly, she broke down in tears. 

“I was about to say to her, ‘Okay, have a great day. We’ll chat in a couple of weeks.’ And then she just started crying,” Goldstein said. “She opened up to me.”

It’s not uncommon for Goldstein to find her one-on-one sessions with students veering from the academic to the personal. Some students are quick to tell her about an issue they’re facing outside the classroom, she said, while others choke back those troubles, at least initially. “You never know what someone’s going through.”

There is a growing acknowledgement on college campuses that student mental health is influenced by a community of care, and not just one office or service. But taking a more public health approach to college mental health suggests all community members must be prepared to respond if a person reaches out or breaks down. At the University of Rochester, a new wellbeing initiative hopes to fill that need with a curriculum-based training program that helps faculty and staff support struggling students, and each other, in a way beyond “report and refer.”   

This fall, the Health Promotion Office at the University of Rochester launched the Well-being for Life and Learning Training Program, designed for student support staff like Goldstein, who are hungry for tools to support struggling students. The opt-in, self-paced program requires participating faculty and staff to take four core and two elective workshops on a range of wellbeing topics from supportive communities and suicide prevention to intercultural communication and religious diversity.

At its core, the Well-being for Life and Learning Program is a student success initiative, born from the understanding that if students are living better, they will learn better. Rochester’s Health Promotion Specialist for Student Well-Being, Rebecca Block, leads the Well-being for Life and Learning Training Program. She said faculty and student support staff interactions are particularly important to this work. 

Photo by J. Adam Fenster / University of Rochester

In 2021, when the Boston University School of Public Health, Mary Christie Institute, and Healthy Minds Network published a report on The Role of Faculty in Student Mental Health, Block found statistical support for the challenges she’d witnessed teachers confront first-hand. Of the more than 16,000 faculty surveyed, nearly 80% said they’d spoken to students about their mental health in the last year, while only 51% said they could confidently identify a student in distress. The majority (73%) said they would welcome opportunities to improve their skills in this area.

“That report made it more acceptable, I think, at a research institution to say, ‘Okay, this data came out of this study with over 12 universities’ faculty reporting this issue. This means that we should do something about it,’” Block said. 

That same year, in 2021, Block launched the Support Student Mental Health workshop series, bringing together ten experts to lead sessions on topics including trauma-informed pedagogy, recognizing students in distress, and educator self-compassion. By spring, 2023, the Health Promotion Office was polling Rochester’s faculty and staff, finding 85% had spoken to students about their mental health in the last year, but more than half had never received formal training to “navigate discussions with students in distress.”

Upon the success of the workshop series, Block began considering an even more formal, expanded platform to provide faculty and staff with the tools to support not only student mental well-being but their own well-being and that of the community generally. The result, launched this fall, was the Well-being for Life and Learning Training, complete with two unique tracks for faculty and staff, respectively, and offered both online and in-person. By showing faculty and staff how to care for not only struggling students but also themselves, the course tries to relieve some of the pressures that might otherwise detract from their own wellness and ability to teach. 

“This is really the first thing I’ve done that’s really focused on students’ well-being and mental health and how we as staff people can actually make an impact on their lives.”

Block said she first became passionate about faculty wellness as a teacher in New York secondary schools. She noticed how instructors’ stress, often internalized from their students, affected teaching. “Working in those classrooms really was the pivotal moment for me. I was like, ‘These kids are not going to learn. They’re not going to be well if their teachers are not able to regulate their own emotions, if they’re not able to support students in the ways that they need.”

For Amy McDonald, director of Rochester’s Health Promotion Office, one of the primary functions of the Well-being for Life and Learning Training Program is its contribution to a more institutional approach to student mental health and wellness. Historically, McDonald said she’s found a gap between the 70 or 80 health education programs run every year at Rochester and the reality of student health outcomes. “We were working so hard to help these students on an individual level, but it really wasn’t impacting their health. So, we really started to shift our thinking to, ‘How can we take a more systems and settings approach to this?’”

“Because we can teach them skills and give them the knowledge,” McDonald added, “but if they don’t live and exist in an environment that supports those choices and makes those choices easy, it’s going to be impossible for them to achieve that well-being.”

So far, the Well-being for Life and Learning Program has managed to draw employees from a variety of areas on campus with diverse levels of expertise in mental health care. Before enrolling, Hana Goldstein, for example, had already participated in a range of trainings and certifications to inform her student care as an academic advisor. Still, she said she was able to find workshops covering issues she had yet to explore in depth, including addressing grief and loss with students.

Because Health Promotion staff designed these workshops specifically for faculty and student support staff at the University of Rochester, Goldstein said she thinks they’ve chosen facilitators well-suited to advise their unique audience. She said she appreciated the leader of the elective workshop on “Compassion Fatigue” coming from Rochester’s Employee Assistance Program, which manages mental health services for employees. “Compassion fatigue can kind of seem like, ‘Oh, it’s just about self-care, and feel a bit redundant at times,’” Goldstein explained. “It was nice to hear about it from the perspective of someone who is not necessarily student-facing, but from someone who is more staff- and faculty-facing.”

Other staff who have participated, like Claudia Pietrzak, the user experience and social media manager for Rochester’s River Campus libraries, arrived at the workshops with a more limited background in mental health training. “This is really the first thing [I’ve done],” Pietrzak explained. “I mean, I have done safe space training and racial justice training here at Rochester and at previous institutions, but nothing that’s really focused on students’ wellbeing and mental health and how we as staff people can actually make an impact on their lives.”

The opportunity for formal training was exciting for Pietrzak, who said she would otherwise approach the mental health issues of students like those of friends. “It’s kind of like, ‘Well, I know what I would do for a friend, but I don’t know what I can do or what I should do as this person that I am on campus—where I’m an adult, even though I don’t often feel like it.”

In the four workshops she’s taken since early October, Pietrzak has already found practical applications in her everyday life. The suicide prevention course left “an impression on me [where] I know more what to look out for when working with other people and I know more about what it is I can do,” she said. The same compassion fatigue class that Goldstein took also came in handy, Pietrzak said, as she had just recently spoken to a coworker struggling under the weight of students’ rising stress levels as finals neared.

“The session on compassion fatigue was really good because, as a friend to this colleague, I felt very empathetic towards her, but I’m also kind of stressed out, too. So it’s like, ‘How do I take care of myself and not absorb this person’s stress?’” The course reaffirmed the importance of setting boundaries, Pietrzak said, to help her avoid ‘sinking with the ship.’ 

Moving forward, Rebecca Block hopes the Health Promotion Office will be able to connect the impact of the training to improved student success outcomes. “How can we tie GPAs or graduation rates or retention rates to students that attend classes from the people that have completed the training?” she said. “Is there any correlation there?”

For now, at least anecdotally, the Health Promotion team feels heartened by the positive feedback from the community, as they try to raise awareness around the initiative. “I worked with one of our athletic trainers a couple weeks ago, and he was going to bring [the program] to the director of athletics to see if it could be mandated that all head coaches complete the training,” Amy McDonald said.

“So that would be our goal—that it’s seen as something that is so beneficial that it’s required for employees to take.”

Counselors’ Concern

Eric Wood currently serves as the Director of Counseling & Mental Health at Texas Christian University. With over 16 years of experience in college mental health, Dr. Wood founded TCU’s innovative Comprehensive Collaborative Care Model and has helped train over 100 colleges and universities to implement various aspects of the nationally recognized program. Dr. Wood serves on LearningWell’s Editorial Board.

As more states move to eliminate diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) programming, there is one consideration that should be placed above political ideology: student mental health.  No matter how sensitive or controversial an issue is, student counseling centers on college campuses see to students’ mental health needs without judgement, and this is true for any issue. Yet new laws recently passed by the 88th Texas Legislature reflect a very specific point of view which threatens to compromise what the data show are best practices in college mental health.

The first law is Senate Bill 17, which prohibits public colleges and universities from having diversity, equity, and inclusion offices and policies. It specifically states that these schools cannot conduct any “training, programs, or activities designed or implemented in reference to race, color, ethnicity, gender identity, or sexual orientation…” When SB17 was introduced, it included an exemption for “health services provided by licensed professionals at an institution of higher education.” This part of the exception was removed, which was surprising to those of us in college mental health.   

Eric Wood, PhD
Eric Wood, PhD

Health care professionals need to talk about and provide outreach specific to race, ethnicity, and gender identity. The Texas State Occupational Code even requires licensed mental health care providers to obtain bi-yearly Continuing Education Units on multicultural issues. This is because appropriate interventions address identity. Senate Bill 17 allows schools to focus on first-generation students, students with low-income, or students in underserved populations. However, students do not define their identity by these concepts, and many mental health concerns relate to identity.

This is particularly concerning given the mental health crisis we continue to combat. The majority (73%) of college students reported moderate or severe psychological distress in 2021, according to the National College Health Assessment, and according to the National Healthy Minds Study, 60% of college students reported experiencing one or more mental health challenges in the last year. 

Meanwhile, experts like Sara Abelson, PhD, MPH, Assistant Professor and Senior Director at the Hope Center at Temple University, present significant research showing that sense of belonging in schools in general, and in college in particular, is protective for adolescent mental health and acknowledging and valuing one’s identity is a strong predictor of belonging.[1] Lack of perceived belonging is associated with a host of negative psychological outcomes and is a critical risk factor for suicide.[2] Conversely, strong sense of belonging has been shown to be a predictor of flourishing (or positive mental health) (Fink, 2014), particularly among African American college students. (Mounts, 2004).

“Health care professionals need to talk about and provide outreach specific to race, ethnicity, and gender identity.”

Senate Bill 17 is not only at odds with what the data show is effective, it is confusing and difficult to accommodate given other mandates such as the recent passage of House Bill 906. This bill requires that institutions of higher education provide students with information about mental health services and suicide prevention efforts on campus. This information must include education about “appropriate interventions” for a person considering suicide. Since it’s well established that individuals of various races, ethnicities, gender identities, and sexual orientations have higher rates of suicide, suicide prevention efforts need to address these groups. However, according to Senate Bill 17, providing direct outreach for these domains on campus might be perceived as excluding other students, so many counseling centers’ staff are thinking that they won’t be allowed to do this.  

The 88th legislature did not intend to, and does not want to, hinder the ability of licensed health care providers to prevent possible suicides, or any other negative outcomes, on campus. Some might argue that there’s no contradiction between Senate Bill 17 and House Bill 906. I can attest that many directors of student counseling centers are confused, if not deeply concerned. If anything, clarification is needed about what licensed health care professionals can do regarding interventions that are specially designed for high-risk groups. The fact that health-care providers were originally exempt from Senate Bill 17 indicates that there was, at one point, awareness for these concerns.


[1] Anderman, 2002; Baumeister & Leary, 1995; Fink, 2014; Haas, Silverman, & Koestner, 2005; Osterman, 2000

[2] Choenarom, Williams, & Hagerty, 2005; Galliher, Rostosky, & Hughes, 2004; Hagerty, Williams, Coyne, & Early, 1996; Pittman & Richmond, 2008; Van Orden et al., 2008; Freeman et al., 2007; Gummadam, Pittman and Ioffe, 2016