You are surrounded by people. You sit in a classroom of 30, eat lunch on a campus of thousands and carry a device that puts you in contact with virtually every person you’ve ever met. By every measurable standard of social access, you have more than any generation before you. And yet, for many students, access has not translated into connection.

If that gap feels familiar, it isn’t necessarily a personal failing. It’s a public health crisis.

In 2023, U.S. Surgeon General Dr. Vivek Murthy issued a formal advisory declaring loneliness and social isolation an epidemic in America. It wasn’t directed at the elderly or the homebound. It was directed, with particular urgency, at the young. His advisory found that rates of loneliness are highest among young adults and adolescents, a demographic that, on paper, should have the richest social lives of anyone.

The advisory found that lacking social connection carries health risks comparable to smoking roughly 15 cigarettes a day, and is associated with a significantly increased risk of heart disease, stroke, anxiety, depression and early mortality.

Oak Park High School students are not exempt from these trends.

The popular image of loneliness – someone eating alone, someone with no social circle – doesn’t reflect how researchers describe it today.

Modern loneliness is subtler. Often, it can be as simple as showing up to school every day and acting a version of yourself that you don’t really feel, or having a full contact list and no one to call. Loneliness in this shape has existed for decades, far predating the internet. “The Catcher in the Rye,” by J.D. Salinger, published in 1951, is a prominent example; its protagonist, Holden Caulfield, knowingly puts on a “phony” face with others and wishes to call people but can’t think of anyone he wants to reach out to.

Researchers distinguish between social isolation (being physically alone) and emotional isolation (feeling unseen even in company). For adolescents especially, the latter form tends to be more prevalent.

“I have a lot of people I could sit with at lunch or text about homework, but there’s not really anyone I’d call if I was actually going through something,” an OPHS junior said. “I don’t know if that’s just how high school is, or if it’s more of a me thing. But I feel like everyone’s kind of going through the same thing, and no one really talks about it.”

The rise of social media has made this distinction even harder to navigate. Social media platforms are designed, as a function of their business model, to produce the sensation of connection without the substance of it. A “like” on a post is not the same as a friend noticing you seem off today and asking about it. Scrolling through someone’s story is not the same as sitting across from them.

Jean Twenge, a psychology professor at San Diego State University and author of “iGen”, has spent years tracking generational shifts in social behavior. Her research found that as smartphone use rose sharply among teens after 2012, in-person social interaction declined. So did reported happiness, with the two trends tracking each other closely.

What research collectively describes is a gap between proximity and connection, sustained by thousands of small decisions to stay comfortable, keep things light and wait for someone else to go first. Those decisions compound.

You are surrounded by people. The person next to you in your first period is doing the same calculation you are. So is the one across from you at lunch.

The gap doesn’t close on its own.