I was born at the tail end of the ’80s, right on that strange border where the last moments of an analog childhood met the digital explosion.
I can almost feel in my bones the "push yourself as hard as you can" mentality I inherited from my parents, while standing next to my Alpha-generation child, trying to decode their life’s compass. I grew up believing that to achieve anything, you had to give it your all—even to the point of exhaustion—and sacrifice was just part of the deal because "one day it’ll matter that they could count on you." My child, however, follows a completely different internal compass: sometimes their confidence irritates me, but more often, it makes me pause and reflect—and honestly, that’s the more common feeling.
They’re Not Broken, Just Responding Differently
I don’t see myself as a relic, but sometimes it’s really tough to relate to the mindset of Alpha and Z-generation youth. Even knowing they’re not "broken," they’ve simply instinctively adapted to this topsy-turvy world. Of course, I know some who just comfortably enjoy the fruits of their parents’ labor—and I see that many from my generation and older struggle to accept this fact. But most young people don’t show laziness; I see incredible awareness. As Krisztián Steigervald points out: this generation isn’t better or worse than ours, just different. And sometimes that difference feels like a huge gap, making me, as a mom, need all my patience to understand what truly drives my child.
Why Aren’t They Grinding for the "Paper" Anymore?
As a parent, my stomach tightens when I see my child not giving their all to studying. In fact, they’re barely trying: so far, their grades come from luck and natural talent, but I suspect surprises await when the cram phase hits. Yet, digging deeper, I get their logic: they already see that a degree won’t save the world. With housing prices and living costs soaring, the "secure future" promised in exchange for hard study feels like a distant mirage to young people—honestly, it felt that way for us too, but even more so for them.
Their question is totally valid: why push yourself to exhaustion when the future looks so uncertain?
They openly ask questions we often never dared to ask ourselves—so we don’t have solid answers, just our parents’ tired clichés to repeat.
The Boundaries I Still Struggle With
What often looks like laziness or comfort to me is actually a very conscious shield protecting their mental health. They refuse to burn out for success, and they talk about anxiety with a naturalness we could envy. My ten-year-old daughter firmly insists on downtime after school.
Sometimes I envy that certainty and remind myself: she’s not avoiding studying because she doesn’t care about her future, but because she knows it wouldn’t make sense when she’s this tired. She already prioritizes her own well-being! It’s interesting to think about where we were at that age—practicing how to suppress our needs for the sake of duty.
The New Rules of Respect
I notice that the "why" question overrides everything in young people’s lives. If they don’t see immediate value or meaning in a task, they simply won’t engage. They seek genuine people and meaningful goals, knowing the world can turn upside down in half a day, forcing them to start over no matter how much effort they put in before. I recently talked with two older acquaintances who insisted respect is an automatic right with age. While I accepted their view, I couldn’t get across my own: human dignity is universal, but true respect and recognition must be earned—no matter how many birthdays you’ve had.
That conversation really made me feel the generational gap, even though only a few years separated us. This mindset shows up in schools too. In today’s rigid system, kids often feel alone with their questions. I remember feeling the walls too, but we silently gave in, thinking it was the only way. They, however, refuse to adapt alone to a framework that doesn’t answer their "whys."
The bridge between generations isn’t built on agreeing on everything, but on the curiosity we bring when we turn toward each other. Sometimes this shift can be exhausting, but it leads to a much more honest and freeing connection. After all, our goal isn’t to have our kids as tired as we were, but happier than we ever were.
