When we talk about education, we tend to focus on what's happening inside the classroom. But as many educators, parents, and students know, some of the most valuable lessons aren't always in textbooks. This is where extracurricular programs have played a supporting role, helping students to develop self-esteem and soft skills for happy and healthy adult lives. Yet extracurricular programs are the first to shrink when funding gaps begin to rear their ugly heads in America's education sector. It should come as no surprise that alongside this troubling issue, a loneliness epidemic has emerged.
To be sure, there are a multitude of factors at play here. However, data shows a link between systemwide budget cuts for extracurricular programs and the decline in younger generations' well-being and preparedness for higher learning and professional life.
Over the last decade, the prevalence of depression among adolescents has increased significantly, according to the Pew Research Center. In 2017, 13% of U.S. teens aged 12 to 17 reported experiencing at least one major depressive episode in the past year, up from 8% in 2007. Additionally, in 2021, nearly 3 in 5 (57%) U.S. teen girls felt persistently sad or hopeless, representing a nearly 60% increase over the past decade. During this same 10-year period, 20% of U.S. school districts reduced extracurricular activities as a cost-cutting measure, according to the National Center for Education Statistics. The effect? Higher fees for sports, clubs, and other extracurricular activities compound the negative impacts of these budget constraints, especially for lower-income families.
The decline in extracurricular opportunities has tangible consequences that exacerbate loneliness in teens. For example, the reduction of sports teams or theater groups limits face-to-face interaction, leaving teens with fewer chances to build relationships in person and more likely to spend time alone or online.
Furthermore, extracurricular activities often offer leadership roles that help build confidence and social skills, both of which are critical in mitigating feelings of isolation. Without these opportunities, teens may miss out on key developmental experiences. The lack of structured social activities can also lead to increased screen time, which may further contribute to a sense of disconnection from peers.
Addressing this issue requires a concerted effort from schools and communities. Schools can actively promote participation in extracurricular activities by encouraging student involvement in various clubs, sports teams, and arts programs. Ensuring that these activities are accessible and inclusive for all students, regardless of ability or background, is essential. Additionally, forming partnerships with local organizations can expand the range of extracurricular opportunities available to teens, providing more pathways to foster social well-being and combat isolation. By prioritizing these efforts, schools, and communities can help create environments where teens thrive socially and emotionally.
The U.S. Surgeon General has declared loneliness a public health epidemic. In a nation grappling with rising rates of depression, anxiety, and social isolation—especially among young people—the stakes could not be higher.
Parallel to this troubling trend is the ubiquity of smartphones and social media, which have infiltrated nearly every corner of our lives. For the group most vulnerable to these dynamics—kids and teens—the implications are stark. According to Pew Research, 95% of teenagers report owning a smartphone, and over one-third say they are "almost constantly" online.
But this story isn't just about technology. It's about what—or who—we've lost along the way.
As Robert Putnam famously outlined in Bowling Alone, America has seen a steady decline in community engagement over the past several decades. Organized faith, neighborhood groups, and even the nuclear family have waned in their roles as societal glue. Into this void steps one of the last bastions of in-person connection: schools and, more specifically, extracurricular programs. These activities are more than just a way for students to pass the time. They are essential lifelines—building blocks of self-esteem, friendship, and the kind of soft skills that make life rich and meaningful.
As the CEO of Hometown, a company that has partnered with over 17,000 schools and universities across the United States to provide digital tools for managing in-person events, I've had the privilege of working closely with the unsung heroes of education—the athletic directors, music teachers, theater coordinators, and countless others who keep these programs alive. They've shared countless stories of how a football game can bring an entire community together, how a high school musical can give a shy student a voice, and how a robotics competition can ignite a lifelong passion for innovation.
Our mission at Hometown is simple but urgent: to ensure that these programs not only survive but thrive. By making it easier for schools to plan, manage, and generate revenue from events, we're helping them keep these vital activities accessible for all students—not just those in affluent districts. And the impact is tangible. Last year alone, Hometown helped schools facilitate over 42 million in-person event tickets, driving critical funding back into their programs.
But the private sector can't do it alone. We need policymakers, parents, and community leaders to recognize extracurricular programs for what they are: a societal necessity. This means advocating for sustainable funding models, encouraging corporate partnerships, and leveraging technology to bridge resource gaps. It means understanding that when we invest in a school play, a swim meet, or a debate tournament, we're investing in something much larger—the future of our society.
The loneliness epidemic is a generational challenge, and its roots are complex. But the solutions can start small. A Friday night football game. A middle school band concert. A robotics club meeting after school. These moments of connection might seem ordinary, but they are the building blocks of something extraordinary: a sense of belonging, purpose, and hope.
As a believer in the power of community, my leadership at Hometown feels increasingly like a moral imperative. And for reasons far beyond professional ambition, I'm committed to making sure that schools have greater access to the resources their students and the communities around them so clearly need. The stakes are too high to take my eye off the ball.
