What Visiting Schools in India Taught Me About Supporting Youth Mental Health in the US
by: Taanvi A., age 16
Over the summer, I visited India to see my grandparents and relatives after a couple of years. But what I expected to be a simple family visit became something much deeper, changing how I thought about my own place in the world. It was about listening, learning and understanding the emotional realities young people are facing across the world.
During a speaking tour, I had the most amazing opportunity to spend my time visiting government schools, residential campuses and classrooms full of students from 9th to 11th grade across Andhra Pradesh, my home state. I spoke about suicide prevention, empathy, stress, breathing techniques and ways to support a friend who may be struggling - things I wish I had learned in school sooner.
Speaking in Telugu, my mother tongue, while blending in English to explain my thoughts to a group of students I had never met before had me nervous, anxious and scared. I didn’t know if my words would even resonate with them. But the conversations that followed were interactive, honest, and sometimes heavy, yet they were also deeply hopeful.
Open and honest conversations
I shared parts of my own journey, the anxiety that once made breathing feel impossible, the panic that left me scared of my own mind, the times I felt alone even when surrounded by others. And as I spoke, students began to share too. For me, that was the hardest part; I was nervous about how youth across a different continent and culture would react to my story. Would my struggles sound foreign to them, or would they feel familiar? What struck me almost immediately was how familiar their stories felt. Even across continents, our emotional worlds were not so different.
Students told me about the pressure to perform well in exams, the fear of disappointing their parents, and the weight of expectations shaping their futures. They told me about friendships that felt like lifelines. They told me about trying to balance who they are with who they are expected to be, and how heavy that balancing act can feel. And they told me something I recognized: that sometimes, they stayed silent not because they didn’t want help, but because they didn’t want to burden the people they loved.
And yet, beneath these conversations is a reality we cannot ignore: suicide is claiming the lives of far too many young people. From 2014 to 2022, student suicide rates in India rose by 72%. In 2022 alone, India lost over 13,000 students to suicide. In some regions, at least one student dies every single day. Many schools do not have trained counselors, as mental health is often viewed as something “extra,” instead of necessary and life-preserving. Still, the compassion I witnessed was powerful.
Students wanted to learn how to support each other. Teachers wanted to understand how to recognize early warning signs. Principals wanted to create safer environments. There was a deep desire to help, but the approach often looked different from what we typically teach in the United States.
Different approaches to mental health training
In American mental health training, we are taught that directly asking someone, “Are you thinking about suicide?” does not increase risk. Research supports this. But in India, counselors who work with students daily shared with me that asking too directly, before trust is built, can cause students to shut down. The stigma and fear of judgment are heavier, they shared.
So instead, the focus is on starting earlier: understanding emotions, building coping skills, recognizing small changes in behavior, and creating relationships strong enough to hold honest conversations.
Both approaches are rooted in care. Neither is wrong. They are responses shaped by culture. And that realization matters here in the United States. Because our classrooms are not culturally singular; they are filled with students whose families come from Europe, Africa, Asia, South America and beyond. Yet mental health education in many American schools is taught as if there is only one emotional language. One way to ask for help. One way to show pain. One way to heal.
But emotional expression is shaped by where we come from, how people in our families experience emotions and how our households respond to them. Some of us cry when overwhelmed. Some of us get quiet. Some of us work harder to numb the pain. And some of us smile so no one asks questions. None of these responses are wrong; they are reflections of our cultural emotional training.
Creating inclusive systems of care
Growing up, I felt caught between two emotional worlds. I spent my early childhood in Ireland, where joy and openness felt natural. My home life was shaped by Indian values, where emotions were held with quiet strength. And in the US, I was encouraged to talk, to express, to name every feeling, but only within a narrow set of accepted labels: anxiety, depression, happy, or sad.
I thought I had to choose which emotional world I belonged to. Now I know I don’t. Healing does not ask us to choose. It asks us to understand and to care. If we truly want to support youth mental health in the US, especially suicide prevention, we must create culturally inclusive systems of care. That means listening before labeling, understanding before instructing and learning emotional language alongside students, not instead of them. Because when young people feel not just supported, but understood, everything changes.
These rising statistics don’t only impact students in Andhra Pradesh; they reflect a global crisis. More than 720,000 people die by suicide every year worldwide. Suicide is the third leading cause of death among 15- to 29-year-olds. And 73% of these deaths occur in low- and middle-income countries.
These numbers are not statistics. They are students. Siblings. Friends. Classmates. And whether we are a teacher, friend, acquaintance or relative, there is always something we can do, and that is to be there. Never blame yourself, because signs can be hard to see. But building relationships, asking how someone is really feeling, or simply reminding someone you care is a support that spans cultures. It starts with one act. The idea is simple: when one person is helped, a whole community can rise with them, potentially saving more lives along the way. If that possibility exists, then we must try.
Where to begin
The work begins with recognizing that there is no single way to talk about mental health. But there is a universal truth: we all want to feel that our pain matters, and that we do not have to carry it alone. And that is where real healing begins.
As I reflect, I realize this trip taught me something I wish the 9-year-old version of me had heard: we are not alone. It’s not just me who feels anxious before tests, stressed about the future or nervous in social situations. There are millions of young people around the world experiencing similar emotions—just expressed in their own emotional language. My question shifted from “Am I the only one?” to “How can I connect with others who feel this too?”
I am so grateful to Samagra Shiksha for the opportunity to connect with students and talk about mental health. As the Government of India’s integrated school education initiative, it supports 156 million students across more than 1 million schools while advancing equitable and inclusive learning. During our time together, I shared ways to support a friend who may be struggling and taught breathing techniques that have helped me navigate some of my own hardest moments. It meant so much to connect with students and teachers across different classrooms, to listen, to learn, and to share my journey of breaking the stigma around mental health.
I hope something in this resonates with you, whether you are a student, a parent, a teacher or someone simply trying to understand yourself. Mental health spans languages and cultures. We may struggle in different ways, but we do not have to struggle alone. So I hope you take a moment today to check in on someone. Ask them, “How are you really doing?” Ask, “How can I support you?” Remind them, “I’m here for you.” Because sometimes, that one moment of care can change everything. And sometimes, it can save a life.
Additional Reading:
Check out blogs from youth perspectives globally at nexusforschools.com.
Taanvi A., age 16, is a junior in high school and a contributor from the Youth Leadership Group on Youth Suicide Prevention of the American Academy of Pediatrics. The development of this information was made possible through support from Kenvue.