The Generational Civic Gap: What School Taught Me After I Had to Learn It Myself

By Dakota Johnson

1/5/26

What does “Civics” even mean? 

I asked myself, after stepping out of my last classes of the semester…the classes designed to teach it. I realized that A’s in my classes didn’t necessarily determine my knowledge, and most certainly didn’t determine my perspective. 

Although I could recite each amendment by heart, label government branches, and align each branch with its credited checks and balances, when I looked out into my community, I found myself to be on my own. I didn’t know the rules of politics, or how power was truly balanced—that is, outside of written documents. I felt disconnected, misguided, and isolated, but not because I didn’t know civics; I didn’t know how to apply them. In a sense, I felt armed with information—but without ammo or a direction to follow. 

This connection gap was first highlighted by my own personal political engagement within my community. Throughout my high school experience, I’ve maintained active participation in policy, government, and politics, seeking out opportunities beyond the classroom: social justice clubs, public advocacy, blog publications, and cross-diocese programs. That said, stepping into these positions has helped me realize how much information formal education, like my high school institution, has left out. I’ve learned that to truly understand how politics and policy affect the world around us, we must not simply recognize these systems, but demand from them context and explanations. More specifically, where my AP Government and Politics course taught me processes, I struggled to understand incentives, eagering me to engage further. 

I began navigating civic spaces in my community, spaces where I could learn from participation and advocacy, instead of textbooks and memorization. These spaces allowed me to discover extensive layers of education through personal experience. Things I had never thought of, like how decisions are influenced by priorities and lobbyists, how personalities determine votes, and how simple districting dictates outcomes, taught me that an understanding of civics starts with engaging with, listening to, and fighting for people around you. 

However, I quickly realized that many of my peers faced the same firsthand challenges as I did. I recognized a pattern: many students my age were equally unprepared to step into the real world. Today, very few students are made ready to navigate a civic life, especially one that directly affects communities, requiring knowledge and empathy to do so responsibly. It’s important to highlight these educational gaps as consequences extend far beyond grade-point averages. For instance, students who graduate with A’s across the board may still struggle to fully understand how local policies shape individuals’ access to resources, representation, technology, civil rights, and personal liberties. In such a case, the process of passing a bill—without the addition of contributing socioeconomic and political forces—can leave citizens feeling misrepresented, hesitant to engage in political participation, and a sense of loneliness and isolation amongst society. 

Recognizing these educational weaknesses has further shaped my own approach to broadening my civic participation, learning, and greater knowledge. I’ve learned that knowledge alone is not enough; we must show up for each other with a true willingness to understand, a passion for change, and a voice to make that change. By doing so, we can navigate the functionality of these complex civic systems together.