I’m resisting the temptation to write yet another think piece about Adolescence, the Netflix drama that’s sent ripples through political and social discourse across the UK. While the show is undoubtedly powerful, it also reveals something about us.
Our hunger for answers. Our discomfort with ambiguity. And perhaps, a tendency to reduce complex societal issues to an individual tragedy.
Created by Jack Thorne and Stephen Graham and directed by Philip Barantini, Adolescence tells the fictional story of Jamie Miller, a 13-year-old schoolboy arrested for the murder of a girl at his school. It’s not a spoiler as the first episode reveals his guilt through chilling CCTV footage.
But the series is less about the what and more about the why.
As viewers follow Jamie’s story, they see a young boy wrestling with pressures that will feel familiar to many teenagers: the demand to appear tough, to chase validation, to suppress emotion, and to earn status. These are more than adolescent growing pains, they are dialled up by a digital ecosystem where algorithms reward extremity and vulnerability is punished.
And while Jamie’s actions are indefensible, viewers have pointed out that his descent is disturbingly believable. It reflects something of reality.
The Prime Minister’s call for the series to be shown in schools has sparked debate. Some see it as a necessary wake-up call. Others worry it’s not that simple. Will teenage boys at risk of radicalisation view Jamie’s actions as a warning, or will they simply see a mirror?
But for me, there’s a bigger question emerging.
This so called ‘lad scene’ might be more nuanced than a discussion about men and social media. Are we doing enough to address the conditions that produce Jamie’s in the first place?
Broken backdrop
The impact of Adolescence goes beyond entertainment. It touches a cultural nerve.
We’re living in a time of genuine anxiety about young people’s mental health and wellbeing. The Royal College of Psychiatrists recently reported that one in five children in England aged 8 to 16 had a probable mental health disorder. At the same time, social media use among children has risen dramatically, with platforms like TikTok, YouTube and Instagram shaping identities, ideologies, and interpersonal relationships in ways we’re still trying to understand.
More recently, the third report in a year-long series by Child of the North and the Centre for Young Lives outlined a plan for Government to improve children’s mental health through schools. Given the central role schools play in children’s lives, they offer a vital opportunity to support mental health and intervene early. However, the report highlights that, under current plans, half of England’s school children will still lack access to Mental Health Support Teams after 2025.
Our analysis revealed that:
- There are approximately 1.4 million children and young people
(aged 8-17 years) with a mental health condition in England. - Only one third of schools in England have dedicated mental health teams.
- 4 million children will not have access to mental health support in schools without further dedicated funding.
And there are regional and nuanced understandings of this needed too. To highlight the scale of mental health problems among young people, the report also included preliminary data gathered from 5,000 children and young people in Bradford that reveals the shocking rise of eating disorders in the area, including:
- One in five (21%) of Year 9 pupils in Bradford reporting a probable eating disorder.
- 18% of 12-to-15-year-olds in Bradford reporting symptoms indicative of a probable eating disorder (the national rate among 11-to-16-year-olds is 13%).
- 17% of 12-to-15-year-olds reported self-harm in the last 12 months, with a higher prevalence in girls (20%) compared to boys (13%).
The report also highlights two priority issues raised by children and young people in Bradford as detrimental to their mental health – problems with lack of sleep and with loneliness.
These findings are seen elsewhere. A recent #BeeWell survey examined the relationship between sleep quality in approximately 35,000 young people in more than 150 schools across Greater Manchester. #BeeWell found that more than four in ten young people reported not getting enough sleep.
The Netflix drama, Adolescence, accentuates the damage that can be caused by access to digital device. And yet, the digital world is just one part of a wider ecosystem.
What happens online interacts with what happens offline. I often write about poverty and inequality, not to suggest that they cause violence or radicalisation directly, but because they shape the environments in which young people grow up. They influence how young people see themselves, what they believe they can become, and how they interpret authority.
The Joseph Rowntree Foundation (JRF) UK Poverty 2025 report shows that over four million children in the UK are growing up in poverty. That’s nearly one in three. These children are more likely to live in overcrowded housing, have limited access to mental health services, and attend underfunded schools
For many, brokenness isn’t an exception… it’s the backdrop.
So it makes sense that people are concerned about the added influence of online echo chambers and influencers who peddle misogyny, conspiracy, and extremism.
But when we focus solely on the content consumed by young people, we miss the structural forces that make some especially vulnerable to it.
Running with role models
Recently, Education Secretary Bridget Phillipson called for more male teachers in schools to serve as role models. She cited the need for boys to have positive figures who can guide them and counteract toxic messages online.
In principle, this makes sense. Role models do matter.
Research from the National Literacy Trust (2022) surveyed over 5,000 children and young people on the topic of role models.
- 93.4% of children and young people aged 7 to 18 had at least one role model.
- The most popular role models were mums (67.4%) and dads (60.2%).
- More than half of children (52.6%) said that they look up to a YouTuber, while fewer than 2 in 5 looked up to a sibling (38.3%) or teacher (36.5%).
Representation matters. But I worry that this approach, while well-intentioned, risks oversimplifying a deeply complex issue.
Role models are powerful not simply because of their gender, but because of their integrity, relatability, and consistency. We cannot assume that boys will only learn from men, just as we shouldn’t assume that all men are inherently positive influences. What’s needed is a diversity of human role models who can model empathy, strength, kindness, and accountability.
Take British runner Ben Connor.
When he recently turned down the opportunity to represent Team GB in the European Road Running Championships because athletes were required to pay their own way, he made a powerful stand for fairness and social mobility. Connor didn’t shout or rage.
He simply said no, and explained why:
“Running (especially road) is the highest mass participation sport in the UK, and we are asking our best to pay to represent this country on an international stage….
Coming from a working class background I don’t like the potential precedent being set where people, especially junior athletes of the future, don’t have the same development or competition opportunities because of finances.
I wish there was more transparency and honesty regarding the state of our governing bodies finances and about how our sport is being managed for this to be the position.”
In doing so, he highlighted a system that is quietly excluding those without financial privilege. That’s the kind of role modelling that matters.
Yet stories like Ben’s rarely make the headlines as prominently as Netflix dramas do.
Equitable ecosystems.
If we’re serious about addressing toxic masculinity, we need to create ecosystems where gender equity is embedded.
Networks like WomenEdare leading the way by supporting and amplifying the voices of women in education, helping to dismantle the structural barriers that prevent many from progressing into leadership.
As a proud #HeForShe, WomenEd has made me reflect on my own behaviours and assumptions. It’s not just about merely about championing women, it’s about challenging the systems, language, and attitudes that hold women (and girls!) back. Phrases like ‘man up’ or ‘grow a pair’ might seem harmless, but they reinforce a narrow, hierarchical view of gender.
Too often these views are alive and prominent in ecosystems of schools. So, it makes sense that WomenEd are leading change through education.
In one school (which I’ll not name because they aren’t there anymore!), I challenged a colleague who described a female interviewee as a ‘pretty little thing’. I laughed at first, ashamedly, then realised how complicit that reaction made me. I called it out. He dismissed me as being ‘one of them’, I assume in an attempt to label me as some form of woke activist. That moment stuck with me. Not because I was labelled, but because it reminded me how casually these power dynamics persist
Kintsugi: Brokenness and beauty
In Japan, kintsugi is the art of repairing broken pottery with gold. The idea is not to hide the cracks but to illuminate them, to honour the brokenness as part of the story. It’s a powerful metaphor for resilience, repair and renewal.
But resilience, repair and renewal don’t happen in isolation.
For young people to be restored, they need systems and communities that support them. That means schools, families, neighbourhoods, and services that don’t just respond to crisis but build conditions for flourishing.
I’ve said it before and I’ll keep saying it. Schools are just one component part of this, not the isolated solution.
So, should Adolescence be shown in schools?
I’m not convinced. At least, not without a lot of careful thought and support.
The riots that took place in the UK last year perhaps provide a stark and painful reminder here. While many on social media were quick to frame them as a response to communities worn down by hardship and disillusionment with government, it’s clear that wasn’t the whole story. Yes, economic inequality and distrust were part of the picture, but we cannot ignore the racist undertones and deep-rooted prejudices that fuelled much of the violence. This wasn’t simply an outburst of anarchy, it was, for many, a burning vehicle for spreading hate, division, and harm, particularly towards people who are not white.
I’m not convinced that shock tactics, like showing YouTube clips of looted streets or images of petrol bombs being hurled at police cars, are the most effective way to educate children and young people about why these actions are immoral and unjustifiable. Having worked in schools with similar underlying community tensions, I’ve met young people who may have been directly involved or shared some of those harmful views.
It’s complex. But if we really want to change the narrative, we need to move beyond dramatic retellings and reactive content.
It might take a village to raise a child, but it takes an ecosystem, schools, families, communities, media, and policy, to guide them, and to consistently reinforce the values we want to see in our society.
Netflix dramas and viral clips aren’t enough. There is a need for long-term, thoughtful, collective action to truly challenge and shift harmful beliefs.
We can’t keep showing images of violence and hardship and expect understanding to grow. We need to model alternatives. Give benchmarks. Offer tools for self-understanding and community-building.
A Netflix series might open a door, but it won’t build the house.
Human role models.
As a teenager, I didn’t need a male teacher to tell me my behaviour was wrong. I needed people who could show me another way to be.
People who weren’t trying to be heroes, just humans.
I wasn’t into football, so celebrity athletes weren’t my role models. But the dinner lady who remembered my name? The youth worker who made time? They were. I’ve written before about the impact of teachers in my life. Interestingly, most of those that had a profound impact on my life were female.
Yes, we need to counteract toxic influences. But I think we can bolder than achieving this through an isolated streaming series. It happens through relationships. Through belonging. Through being seen. And that means building ecosystems, not just interventions.
Because in the end, it doesn’t just take a village to raise a child.
It takes an entire ecosystem to guide them through adolescence… not the Netflix series, but the real thing.
You can read more about Sean and his insights on his Substack platform for free at https://thatpovertyguy.substack.com/
