Gen Z Is Taking ‘Adulting 101’ Classes Because No One Taught Them How to Do Life

They’ve grown up in a world of smartphones, streaming, and self-started businesses—but ask many Gen Z adults how to write a check, file taxes, or cook a simple meal, and the confidence starts to falter. While this generation excels in digital fluency and cultural awareness, a surprising number report feeling unprepared for the demands of everyday life. In response, “Adulting 101” courses—once joked about online—are now being offered by universities and embraced by students who say they simply weren’t taught how to manage the basics.

This rising demand isn’t just about folding fitted sheets or deciphering health insurance forms; it reflects a deeper conversation about what it means to be ready for adulthood in today’s world. From systemic shifts in education to evolving parenting styles and economic pressures, a perfect storm has left many young adults without the practical tools—and emotional readiness—they need to thrive independently. Rather than criticizing Gen Z for what they don’t know, it may be time to examine why these foundational skills went missing in the first place.

The Life Skills Gap No One Prepared Gen Z For

Gen Z may be fluent in the language of digital culture, but many of its members are coming of age without the practical tools needed to navigate adult life. While they can edit videos in their sleep and build robust personal brands on TikTok, fundamental tasks like budgeting, sewing a button, reading a lease, or understanding credit remain unfamiliar terrain. The problem isn’t a lack of intelligence or effort—it’s a gap in education and upbringing. As young adults step into independence, many are realizing that the traditional school system offered little in the way of applicable life skills. “I don’t know how to change a tire. I don’t know how to sew. I don’t know how to do a lot of things, other than cooking,” said Aldhen Garcia, a first-year student at Toronto Metropolitan University, in a recent CBC interview. His experience isn’t unique—fellow students like Bella Hudson have expressed a desire for classes that prepare them not just for exams, but for everyday responsibilities, from personal finance to managing a household.

Psychologist Jean Twenge points to deeper societal trends as the source of this shortfall. Many Gen Z youth were raised in environments that prioritized academic achievement and safety over autonomy. Helicopter parenting—a style defined by high involvement and low independence—has left many teens unaccustomed to managing things on their own.

Add to this the near-erasure of home economics courses from public schools and a growing tendency for young adults to live at home well into their twenties, and the result is a generation that reaches college with digital savvy but little real-world experience. Twenge notes that while earlier generations often learned to take on small responsibilities during high school, Gen Z is entering adulthood without that foundational exposure, which makes even basic tasks feel overwhelming.

The consequences aren’t merely inconvenient—they can impact mental health. A 2023 review in the Journal of Pediatrics found that reduced opportunities for young people to engage in independent, real-world skill-building were associated with increased rates of anxiety and depression. Without confidence in their ability to handle everyday life, many young adults feel unmoored. What’s emerging now isn’t a generation incapable of adulting, but one that is actively acknowledging a structural gap and seeking meaningful ways to close it. Gen Z isn’t asking for life to be easier—they’re asking to be better equipped for the life they’re already trying to build.’

The Rise of “Adulting 101” Programs as a Practical Response

In response to this growing skills deficit, a number of educational institutions are beginning to formalize the transition into adulthood with programs explicitly designed to teach real-world competencies. Universities like the University of Waterloo and Toronto Metropolitan University have launched “Adulting 101” initiatives that offer workshops, toolkits, and online resources covering everything from how to fold a fitted sheet to understanding compound interest and preparing for job interviews. These aren’t fringe offerings—they’re increasingly seen as essential. At Waterloo, for instance, the free online platform provides guidance on budgeting, cleaning, cooking, mental health, and even how to ask for help, recognizing that for many students, the barrier to independence isn’t just knowledge but the confidence to seek it out.

The effectiveness of these programs lies not only in their practical focus but also in their validation of a need that has long been overlooked. As Pam Charbonneau, Director of Student Success at Waterloo, explained, students often arrive on campus overwhelmed and unsure where to begin.

“You see their shoulders drop when they realize there’s actually someone and something here to help me solve my problem,” she said. These initiatives serve as both skill-building platforms and emotional support systems, offering students not only instruction but a sense of reassurance that they’re not alone in feeling unprepared.

What makes these programs particularly impactful is their holistic design. They don’t just offer how-to lists—they teach students how to think through everyday problems, make informed decisions, and take ownership of their responsibilities. This emphasis on practical autonomy resonates with Gen Z’s values: they are not passive recipients of information but active participants who want to feel agency over their own lives. By institutionalizing life-skill education, universities are not simply filling a gap left by schools or families—they’re reimagining what education can and should prepare students for.

How We Got Here—The Cultural Decline of Life Skills Education

The current push for “Adulting 101” isn’t just a reaction to individual shortcomings—it reflects a broader shift in how society has deprioritized hands-on life education over the past few decades. One major factor has been the near-eradication of practical coursework like home economics and shop classes from school curricula. Once considered core parts of a well-rounded education, these programs began to disappear in the 1990s and early 2000s as schools increasingly focused on standardized testing, college readiness, and STEM subjects. While the emphasis on academic achievement and technical skills has undeniable value, it came at the expense of teaching students how to cook a basic meal, balance a budget, or maintain a living space—skills that, for many, are no less essential to adult success.

Simultaneously, parenting norms underwent a dramatic transformation. The rise of helicopter parenting—a term that gained prominence in the early 2000s—reflects a cultural tendency to protect and micromanage children in the name of safety and success. While well-intentioned, this approach has often meant fewer chances for children to take risks, make mistakes, or take responsibility for everyday tasks.

When young people are rarely allowed to walk to school alone or manage their own schedules, it’s unsurprising that they enter adulthood without a strong sense of independence or competence in day-to-day matters. These habits of overprotection can unintentionally stifle the very resilience and problem-solving that adulthood demands.

Moreover, economic and social shifts have reinforced this delayed transition. With housing costs rising and entry-level wages stagnating, more young adults are living at home longer, further postponing the need to acquire skills traditionally learned through living alone. In 2022, for example, Pew Research Center reported that nearly half of adults aged 18 to 29 in the U.S. lived with one or both parents—a figure not seen since the Great Depression. While this trend is often framed as a failure to launch, it’s more accurately a symptom of structural challenges that discourage early independence. Taken together, these educational, parental, and economic dynamics have created a perfect storm where young adults are expected to function independently without having been given the tools, space, or support to actually learn how.

The absence of basic life skills does more than inconvenience young adults—it can deeply affect their mental health and sense of agency. Tasks like creating a budget, cooking a meal, or navigating housing paperwork might seem routine, but they are cornerstones of functional adulthood. Without the confidence to perform them, many young people report feeling overwhelmed, anxious, or even ashamed. This emotional strain is not anecdotal—it’s supported by research. A 2023 review published in the Journal of Pediatrics found a strong correlation between limited opportunities for children and adolescents to engage in independent, skill-building tasks and higher rates of anxiety and depression. When young adults are thrust into independence without prior exposure to self-management, the psychological toll can be significant.

The connection between practical capability and emotional resilience is well established in psychological theory. Self-efficacy—the belief in one’s ability to manage life’s challenges—is a key predictor of mental well-being. When individuals master concrete skills, even small ones like fixing a tear in clothing or meal planning for a week, they begin to trust their capacity to handle more complex problems.

These skills aren’t just about functionality; they are confidence-builders. Without them, many young people feel ill-equipped and, at times, paralyzed by tasks others take for granted. The result isn’t just frustration—it’s a pervasive sense of inadequacy that can hinder their growth in school, work, and relationships.

What’s especially important is that programs like “Adulting 101” don’t just teach how to do things—they offer a kind of psychological scaffolding. They normalize the learning curve of adulthood, creating environments where it’s safe to not know everything. This alone can significantly reduce the shame or embarrassment that often prevents people from asking for help. As students participate in workshops or navigate online guides, they’re not only acquiring skills—they’re learning that uncertainty is a shared experience, not a personal failure. In this way, life skills education serves a dual purpose: it arms young adults with the tools to live independently and helps restore a sense of control and competence in a world that often demands both without preparation.

Rethinking Readiness—A Call to Equip, Not Shame

The popularity of “Adulting 101” programs underscores a cultural moment where a generation is no longer willing to fake preparedness. Instead of masking their confusion, Gen Z is asking for guidance—openly, unapologetically, and collectively. This should be seen not as an indictment of their character but as an opportunity for institutions, families, and educators to reconsider what it actually means to prepare someone for adulthood. The traditional markers of success—grades, degrees, and technical proficiency—cannot replace the foundational skills that make life manageable. Folding a sheet or filing taxes may not be taught in AP classes, but their absence can deeply affect one’s ability to function with confidence and stability.

Rather than continuing to romanticize a sink-or-swim approach to growing up, we need to recognize that support and instruction do not weaken independence—they cultivate it. Schools can reintroduce life skills education as a core part of curricula without sacrificing academic rigor. Parents can offer age-appropriate responsibilities earlier, giving kids space to struggle and succeed. And society at large can drop the outdated notion that “real” adulthood is achieved through hardship alone. Resilience isn’t born from being thrown into the deep end—it comes from knowing how to swim.

Equipping young adults with life skills is not about hand-holding; it’s about leveling the playing field. Everyone benefits when the next generation is confident, competent, and mentally prepared to take on adult responsibilities. As Gen Z leads the charge in destigmatizing the need for help, they’re reframing adulthood not as a performance of perfection but as a process of learning. And that shift may be the most grown-up thing of all.