“I’m not going to be in class today because I have to take my dog to the vet.”

“I will miss the exam for a family vacation. How do I make that an excused absence?”

“I have to watch my roommate, who is recovering from a concussion, so my assignment will be late.”

These are a few of the excuses that have been offered to me this semester. In some ways, I don’t blame my students—they are products of the incentives that have shaped their behavior. I know I am not alone in fielding these excuses, as conversations with colleagues suggest that students frequently explain missed deadlines, incomplete assignments, or absences by citing a wide range of sometimes serious but often petty personal challenges. What’s missing is a sense of ownership—of one’s choices, one’s obligations, and the tradeoffs required to balance school and life.

“The dog ate my homework” was once a joke; now it’s a model. Students now treat ordinary difficulties—and, increasingly, vacations—as valid reasons to step away from their academic responsibilities. This shift reflects not only changes in academic policy and expectations, but a broader cultural signal: that students, despite living in an era of unprecedented privilege and opportunity, face uniquely overwhelming hardships.

By failing to challenge this assumption, universities and professors who accommodate it—through extensions, adjustments, and endless flexibility—only reinforce it. In a meeting last week, faculty members insisted that students today have more to contend with than any generation before them. I asked what they thought life was like for most Americans during World War II. The question was not well received.

The delusion must end. Expectations must rise if higher education is to remain relevant in preparing young people for life beyond graduation.

Today’s college students operate in one of the most advantaged periods in human history. Smartphones give them access to nearly all of humanity’s accumulated knowledge; no longer must they schlep to the library, use a card catalogue, or locate a hard-bound journal. There are tools for communication, navigation, and entertainment that previous generations could scarcely imagine. And material comforts, flexible academic policies, and abundant mental health resources buffer their academic life.

Despite these realities, reports of anxiety, depression, and burnout among students continue to rise. Self-reported stress is taken as reality rather than a consequence of an excuse-filled milieu. The reality is that routine academic demands that earlier generations handled without fanfare are now described as overwhelming, and personal issues such as breakups, busy weeks, or reactions to news cycles are offered as legitimate justification for leniency. In the past, young people were expected to complete their work or accept the consequences of falling short, without the expectation that emotional struggles would automatically alter expectations.

When academic institutions normalize the use of excuses, the consequences extend beyond any single missed assignment. Students lose the ability to develop skills for managing time, prioritizing tasks, and delivering results under pressure, abilities that are indispensable in professional environments. Employers expect reliability and output regardless of fluctuating emotions or minor setbacks, and clients do not postpone critical projects because an individual needs time to process feelings.

By repeatedly granting special accommodations, universities train students in “learned helplessness,” reinforcing the belief that they lack the capacity to cope without external relief. This cycle weakens students’ confidence and diminishes the value of academic credentials. What does an A really mean when earned without meeting deadlines or taking exams under time constraints? When institutions pathologize routine difficulties and treat every emotional dip as worthy of warranting adjustment, they prevent students from learning hard lessons and discovering their capacity to endure and improve. The evidence shows that these increasingly permissive policies have not produced healthier or more capable graduates.

Professors and administrators must reassert their role as guides who cultivate both intellect and character. Compassion remains essential; however, the line must be drawn against using commonplace setbacks as reasons to avoid responsibilities. Institutions should establish and consistently enforce policies that limit extensions and exceptions to well-documented emergencies. Syllabi should set firm expectations from the outset, signaling that academic work is a serious commitment rather than an optional activity subject to personal convenience.

Beyond policy, educators should build time management, emotional regulation, and persistence into coursework, treating them as essential skills for academic and professional success. Faculty must model these standards. Recently, students told me a professor canceled class once because a friend’s father had died and again because she was “feeling blue” about a relationship—oversharing that models poor self-management and undermines the classroom.

It is time we stopped accepting excuses and held a firm line. By holding students to high standards, universities help them cultivate the inner strength that leads to authentic confidence, reduced anxiety, and a greater sense of agency in shaping their own futures.

Students are capable of rising to the occasion; we just need to stop accepting trivial excuses as legitimate reasons for falling short.

Follow Rebekah Wanic on X.