Last month, during Mental Health Awareness Month, posters went up on campuses across the country, and social media hashtags trended. Now we’re in June, and the conversation begins to fade—while students’ struggles do not.
We cannot afford to relegate mental health to a single month on the calendar. Mental health is essential to student well-being and must be central to the work of educators, advocates, and policy leaders throughout the year.
According to the CDC, suicide remains the second leading cause of death among young people aged 10 to 24. A Jed Foundation (JED) study revealed that 3 in 5 learners are struggling with financial insecurity, while 60 percent fear for their future. And among young people with depression, more than 60 percent are not receiving the help they need.
These statistics are heartbreaking. But they are not just numbers. They are students.
Today’s college students face immense challenges. This generation is coming of age in a world shaped by instability. They are digital natives – always connected, yet deeply isolated and yearning for authentic human connection. They have survived a pandemic but still live in the shadows of economic uncertainty and climate change. They are struggling not only to pay tuition, but also to meet their most basic needs: food, housing, and, in some cases, childcare. And far too many of our students are now familiar with violence in places once considered safe—places like schools, churches, synagogues, and even grocery stores.
Our students carry an unprecedented emotional weight.
Now adding to that weight are the relentless political assaults on who they are and what they deserve.
Across the country, we’ve seen books banned, attempts to erase history, programs dismantled, and policies enacted that deny students the right to feel seen, safe, and supported. At a time when mental health support should be expanding, it’s being defunded or discredited. At a time when our students need more understanding, they’re met with suspicion and censorship.
Even the fundamental promise of higher education—as a gateway to opportunity—is being recast as suspect or expendable. These attacks strike at the core of belonging, purpose, and possibility. They undermine our efforts to build a society where everyone, all of us, can thrive.
It’s no wonder that a Lumina and Gallup poll finds that one in three students are considering leaving their programs due to mental health and emotional stress. When support disappears, so does persistence. No single institution can solve the student mental health crisis alone. It will take all of us working across education, healthcare, philanthropy, government, and community spaces to prioritize mental health.
On behalf of students, we must confront this crisis with compassion, collaboration, and conviction.
Three principles can guide our efforts to protect students’ emotional health:
- Mental health must be a core, not a peripheral, issue. It is central to student success, institutional mission, and employee well-being. It must be considered mission-critical and treated with the same urgency as academic success.
- Mental health must be holistic, not siloed. It must be embedded in campus life, intersecting with health, academics, and student services. A “whole campus” approach is needed.
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Mental health must be multifaceted, not solely focused on individual counseling. Addressing the issue requires a systems-level response emphasizing wholeness, wellness, and a sense of belonging.
While the federal government is cutting funding for school mental health, states are providing strong leadership. A recent convening by The Jed Foundation (JED), a nonprofit that protects emotional health and prevents suicide for teens and young adults nationwide, and the State Higher Education Executive Officers Association highlighted how states are advancing creative, community-rooted strategies to ensure every student feels seen, safe, and supported.
For instance, Louisiana embraced generational and culturally responsive outreach, using tools like yoga set to hip hop music and leveraging social media to meet students where they are. They also wove mental health into broader attainment conversations—linking well-being with educational and economic outcomes.
Montana launched “Thriving Together,” a campus-wide initiative focused on resilience, life skills, and collective care. With limited budget resources, the state partnered with external organizations to fund and deliver services.
Wyoming has found success in telehealth, particularly in reaching students in rural areas where staff shortages and budget gaps limit access to care.
We see other practices that can be put in place elsewhere. Colleges can train all campus stakeholders to recognize signs of distress and support mental well-being as a shared responsibility. States and local communities can invest more in the mental health workforce, ensuring enough trained providers are available to meet growing demand. And collectively, we can sustain and evolve the work because mental health requires ongoing adaptation and commitment to stay aligned with changing student needs.
At Lumina Foundation, we understand that students need more than credentials—they need to feel hopeful about their future. Our new goal that 75 percent of working adults hold a credential of value by 2040 is not just a policy target—it’s a moral commitment. It’s about ensuring every learner not only earns a degree but also has the security, well-being, and civic agency to live a fulfilling life.
Mental health is central to that vision.
This isn’t easy work. But supporting students’ mental health is essential and must be done year-round. It is foundational to academic success, human dignity, and the promise of higher education.
Dr. Michelle Asha Cooper is vice president for public policy at Lumina Foundation.
