Students often feel overwhelmed (Graphic by Skylar August using images from Canva)
By Skylar August
There is an unspoken rule in college that every student knows but no one actually agrees to. From the moment the semester starts, you are expected to be “on.” Not present. Not engaged. “On.” Like a walking productivity machine that magically never gets tired, overwhelmed, or mentally drained by week three. It’s the pressure to perform, to stay ahead, to never fall behind, and to hold everything together even when your brain and body are begging for one day where you don’t have to prove yourself. And the wild part is that most of us have accepted this nonstop grind as normal.
Burnout has become such a universal experience that students joke about it the way people joke about bad weather. The forecast this week? Stress storms with a high chance of crying in your car before class. Everyone is always on the edge of exhaustion, carrying iced coffees like emotional support animals and answering discussion board prompts at 11:58 pm. We live in a constant state of fighting to keep up, terrified that if we slow down at all, everything will fall apart.
What makes this worse is the guilt that comes with rest. Even when you know you need a break, there is that little voice reminding you that you should be doing something productive. You should be emailing a professor, catching up on readings you forgot existed, working an extra shift, or studying for that quiz next week. Rest feels like a luxury, even though it should be one of the most basic human needs.
Hustle culture thrives on that guilt. It teaches us that worthiness comes from pushing through pain, from showing up even when we’re falling apart. It tells us that being overwhelmed is a sign that we’re doing something right. That if we’re not stressed, we’re not working hard enough. It’s a twisted mindset that starts way before college but becomes amplified in an environment built around deadlines, grades and constant comparison.
And every semester, the cycle repeats. Week one feels manageable. Week two is slightly worse. By week five, assignments start stacking up like an unstable Jenga tower. Around midterms, everyone is running on caffeine and survival instincts. Then finals hit, and suddenly you’re questioning every life decision that led you to this moment. The expectation is not only to keep going, but to do so without ever looking tired, without admitting you’re overwhelmed, and without showing the very real cracks forming underneath.
But here’s the truth that no one likes to admit: Students are humans. Not robots, not machines, not productivity generators. Humans. With mental health challenges, jobs, commutes, families, financial stress, and days where getting out of bed feels like an accomplishment. Pretending otherwise helps absolutely no one.
Rest should not be something we earn only after reaching the brink of collapse. It should not be the reward for suffering. It should be part of the process. A right. Something we protect just as fiercely as our grades.
And, yes, rest looks different for everyone. For some, it’s sleeping in without feeling guilty. For others, it’s turning off their phone and taking an actual break instead of doom scrolling and calling it self care. For a lot of students, rest is simply giving themselves permission to breathe without worrying about what’s due next.
There is also a deeper, more uncomfortable side to this conversation. The pressure to always be “on” doesn’t come from students alone. It comes from professors who load up assignments as if their class exists in a vacuum. It comes from the culture of “If I survived it, so can you.” It comes from campus environments that reward overworking but rarely talk about balance. And it comes from the fear that if we slow down, we’ll fall behind the people who never do.
But that mindset isn’t sustainable. It’s not healthy. And it’s definitely not preparing anyone for a stable future. Burnout isn’t a badge of honor. It’s a warning sign.
What would happen if students didn’t feel guilty for resting? What if the expectation wasn’t to constantly push through exhaustion, but to actually acknowledge it? What if professors and campus culture saw rest as part of learning rather than the thing that gets in the way of it?
This is not about giving up or slacking. It’s about survival. It’s about the reality that students cannot keep operating at full speed from week one to finals without consequences. It’s about challenging the idea that exhaustion is the norm.
Students deserve to feel supported, not drained. We deserve an education system that recognizes burnout instead of romanticizing it. And we deserve the right to rest without apologizing for it.
Because if being constantly overwhelmed is considered normal, maybe the problem isn’t the students. Maybe it’s the standard we’re forced to meet.
