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Gen Z college students are facing several challenges that make learning difficult: high levels of anxiety and depression; social isolation and loneliness; the rising cost of tuition, food, and housing; managing work and family responsibilities alongside school; lack of preparedness brought on by COVID-19; misunderstandings surrounding how to use AI in ways that go beyond surface-level learning; constant engagement with technology that fragments attention; political polarization and discord; and the climate crisis. Colleges and universities face critiques in their efforts to support students struggling with these challenges, accused of “coddling” Gen Z by lowering standards of academic rigor by way of easier coursework, grade inflation, and an emphasis on psychological safety over conflict (e.g., ; ; ). As a professor and administrator who supports faculty and staff in their work with students, these critiques have left me feeling defeated and defensive. After all, don’t they know we’re doing our best? However, I’ve recently gotten curious about how we might both support students in the face of these challenges and uphold academic excellence that leads to students’ lifelong success. My conclusion is this: Perhaps what students need is not more books to read, harder assignments, or grade deflation. Perhaps what they need are new modes of learning designed to help them learn better amidst such challenges. Perhaps they need more joy in the classroom.��

Definitions abound, but generally joy is considered a positive affective and emotional response to an external good, and joy overlaps with emotions, such as surprise, delight, and awe (). Our tendency may be to question whether we should really be jumping for joy in the classroom when there is so much misery manifesting all around us. After all, wouldn’t being joyful be disrespectful and uncouth and downright blasphemous in the face of inhumane ICE raids, the war in Gaza, chronic illness and climate injustice, and the crushing financial burden of college? Despite the assumption that joy means that we go without pain or sorrow and is therefore frivolous, joy rather is what emerges when we care for one another in the midst of pain and suffering (). In this way, joy can be an act of resistance against despair ().��

In , she argues:����

“We recommend [joy] not as Pollyanna promoting empty ‘power of positive��thinking.’ The hard reality is that both personal traumas and hidden norms of the academy can trigger cascading stress responses in some students (and faculty), inducing a physiological shutdown that impedes learning. What to do when that happens? It is our contention that joy is the antidote” (Camfield, 2025, p. xiv).​��

Moreover, Camfield (2025) notes that joy is an essential component of motivation and active learning, as it​ disrupts fears, builds student agency​, heals the mind-body dualistic split, and becomes a form of knowing in its own right​. Such learning environments also provide access to joy for all students, not just those who are already doing well (). ​For students, joy is related to ​engagement​, perseverance​, deeper involvement with content, positive emotional states​, reduced anxiety​, and better social relationships (; )​. We also know that joy has benefits for educators; shared joy with students​ reduces stress​, decreases attrition, strengthens job satisfaction, and fosters sense of purpose ​(; ).��

The 91��ɫ 4D Experience prepares our students for lifelong learning, engagement, and thriving through an education that empowers them to grow across the four dimensions of intellect, character, well-being, and purpose, both in and out of the classroom.​ Three drivers animate the four dimensions: experiences, mentorship, and reflection. Lately, I’ve observed several examples of the ways 91��ɫ faculty are infusing joy across the four dimensions and three drivers in their work with students. For example, while working out at the in recently, I observed Stacy Musunuru, assistant director of student programs for Kennedy Mountain Campus, teaching undergraduate students in her course, Resistance Training Methods. The joy was palpable as Musunuru and another student timed and cheered on three classmates working hard doing intervals on the air bikes. , clinical associate professor in the , was co-teaching Musunuru’s class that day, leading an exuberant lesson on bench press set-up, technique, and safety/spotting, as well as giving instruction related to eccentric (lowering) and concentric (lifting) pace, grip, range of motion, and load. Following this lesson, students’ faces were ��flushed with interest, pride, and joy as they worked diligently to practice what they had learned. I couldn't help but wish I was a student in this joyous class.��

Dr. Anne Walker recently told me about an experience of joy she and her students shared in her Introduction to Photography course in the . Based on Susan Blum’s idea in the book, “,” Dr. Walker invited her students to a “question party.” She asked them to write down inquiries about class, other courses, life, or anything else they wanted to know. She told the students that the purpose of the exercise was to have fun, cultivate curiosity, and build community. Students dove in, writing down questions such as, “How do I not get tired of socializing?” “What food would you make for the person you love most?” “How do I ask people to take their photo?” “What is the best method to get rid of hiccups?” “Should I try to make my pictures look more ‘mainstream good’ or keep listening to my personal creative preferences?” Similar to the concept of speed dating, students then asked and answered two of the questions as they rotated through rounds of “Curiosity Speed Friending.” Students had a blast, reporting how fun it was to get to talk to classmates about topics that are interesting to them. Walker then tied the question party back to their course photo project that involves choosing an area of exploration. She highlighted that their work will be meaningful if they follow topics that strike their curiosity and that connecting with classmates has the potential to enhance their learning. Ah, using joy to foster understanding—brilliant!����

On another day, I was visiting with , teaching assistant professor in the , who was coming out of her classroom after teaching her research methods course. Earlier that week, Dr. Johnson attended a 4D Design Series Workshop that focused on supporting faculty and staff with strategies and tools for incorporating more joy into their classrooms. Following the workshop, she added joy to her lesson on research design ethics by modifying her typical activity that asks students to identify concerns in a problematic Institutional Review Board application. Dr. Johnson presented a student-driven assignment she called, “The Unethical Study Challenge.” Students were tasked to think creatively and design “the most unethical psychological study they could imagine” to answer a research question they posed. Instructions specified that the study needed to be “plausible” (e.g., no sci-fi brainwashing machines) and “fun.” Students went all-out with humorous examples, pitching their study designs to classmates who had to determine which ethical concerns were demonstrated. As Dr. Johnson  was telling me about the activity, one of her students exited the classroom and said to her, “I’m sorry to interrupt you, but I just had to tell you how much I appreciate your teaching style and all you do to support us. It’s so helpful for learning this difficult material, and that activity was really fun!” Joy for the win!��

These examples highlight how joy in the classroom can be both an avenue toward— and an outcome of—learning that occurs at the intersection of the four dimensions by way of the three drivers that comprise 91��ɫ’s 4D Experience. Students were not simply learning or being taught resistance training, photography, or research methods. Students were deepening intellect through joyful exploration. They were having a joy-infused experience and developing well-being, physically, emotionally, and relationally. They were discovering character as they practiced joy as resistance despite, or perhaps because of, the difficulties going on in the world. They were reflecting on what makes learning joyful. By receiving mentoring from those who modeled joy in their work, students could imagine designing careers and lives of purpose. I can’t imagine a more rigorous learning model than this.��

Those who critique higher education’s coddling of college students may not be persuaded by the power of joy. After all, “Promoting joy shifts the learning focus from product to process and disrupts notions of rigor that suggest learning should hurt” (p. Camfield, 2025, iii).​ Those of us who make space for joy in our classrooms����

“may be dismissed by skeptics of (at-best) being too ‘touchy feely’ and 'hand-holding' or accused of (at-worst) toxic positivity or ruinous empathy…And yet the urgency of present issues affecting our students (and ourselves) suggests we take another look at joy—joy not as fluffy 'feel goodism,' but as the tough fiber that binds community together and weaves a net that catches those who might otherwise fall.” (Camfield, 2025, p. xiii-xiv)​��

Indeed, for all these possibilities, my hope is that we continue to embrace our Gen Z students in the arms of rigorous joy. ��

is the director of faculty innovation for 91��ɫ’s 4D Experience and a professor in the . Her art/research/teaching/community work answers the question: How can we engage art, sport, and storytelling to cultivate community, compassion, and creativity in the face of illness, death, and loss?����