A university today is an institution of far greater complexity, with a stronger focus on student welfare than perhaps ever before. Conversations between educators invariably turn to what it means for students to “thrive” and “excel”.
Thriving is commonly understood as success and prosperity, or strong and vigorous growth. For many institutions, this has often translated into academic and professional success for students, preferably immediately after they leave college.
Significant effort is invested in chasing this holy grail, with an emphasis on progressive pedagogy, inspiring faculty, placements, and getting students “future-ready”.
It is now clear that this focus on student success must go hand in hand with deeper engagement with student well-being.
Today, most students are well-versed in the terminology of psychological distress, and families, too, are beginning to understand the phenomenon.
Even the government has taken note. The first National Wellbeing Conclave took place last year, alongside state-wide initiatives such as the Jeevani programme in Kerala and digital dashboards in Uttarakhand and Uttar Pradesh to address this challenge. Within universities, there has been a mushrooming of counselling services, helplines and awareness workshops.
The concept of an Office of Student Life is gaining traction, replacing the earlier, more loosely defined notion of “pastoral care”.
Many of these approaches are necessary and long overdue. And yet, they fall short of enabling the vast majority of students to truly thrive.
Data about full placements and stratospheric salaries sits alongside alarming information on student well-being. Reports based on NCRB data show that student suicides in India increased by approximately 34 per cent between 2019 and 2023—significantly higher than the growth in the youth population during the same period.
Institutional mechanisms do make a tangible difference, but viewing them as a complete solution is as misguided as assuming that increasing the number of doctors and hospitals will solve the problem of physical health.
In both cases, the entire ecosystem must enable wellness in as many ways as possible.
Perhaps it is worth replacing the word “thriving” with “flourishing”, which implies blossoming and coming into one’s own.
This interpretation allows for a more expansive understanding of student well-being. A useful lens comes from the work of American academic and psychologist Carol Ryff, who proposed a six-factor model of psychological well-being.
According to her, the factors that positively influence well-being are self-acceptance; positive relationships with others; autonomy (independence and confidence); environmental mastery (the ability to make use of available opportunities); a sense of purpose and meaning in life; and personal growth and development.
Further, psychological well-being emerges from a balance between challenging and rewarding life events.
Viewed through this framework, the task before higher education institutions may appear daunting. So what, then, can they do?
To begin with, universities must prioritise student health and happiness beyond narrow metrics such as GPAs and placements. They must grapple with the paradox that an intense focus on success may itself become a significant stressor.
Measures could include more individualised attention to students’ contexts and aspirations, mentoring beyond academic and professional goals, and the establishment of offices for learning support and well-being centres. Faculty wield considerable influence over students, and broader engagement—whether on the sports field, at a musical evening, or even over chai at the dhaba—can be invaluable.
Universities must also offer a wide range of opportunities—academic, creative, entrepreneurial and social—so that students have a sufficiently large canvas to experiment, find their niche and achieve something meaningful.
Equally important is ensuring that access to these opportunities is not denied because of context or identity. From admissions to representation to placements, cultivating a sense of belonging must be an ongoing effort across all spaces of higher learning.
Of course, students are also affected by forces beyond a university’s control.
These include difficult family circumstances, social injustice, political and environmental upheavals, and, in the digital age, online bullying and isolation. It would be hubris to assume that any single office could address all of these challenges.
Support mechanisms, therefore, cannot rely on static standard operating procedures of “best practices”. Instead, they must be shaped through sustained dialogue with students.
Beyond representation in university bodies, students should be recognised as contributors to policies that affect them—not merely recipients. This fosters greater ownership within the student body while keeping educators attuned to the realities shaping students’ lives.
Most importantly, universities must care—genuinely—about student well-being. Moving from school and home into a university is, for many, a literal process of transplantation.
Student-centricity, therefore, is the demanding yet rewarding task of creating fertile ground in which students can flourish and thrive. As Max Ehrmann wrote in Desiderata: “Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune… Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.”