A graduate in a cap and gown frowns, surrounded by question marks and questions about their future.
As graduates enter the most challenging Canadian job market in decades, the question “what’s next?” weighs heavily. [Graphic by Phineas Ambrose Savchenko/the Charlatan]

Every June, fresh graduates face a barrage of well-meaning questions from friends, family, professors and strangers alike: “So, what’s next for you?” “Any job prospects?” “Where are you headed after school?”

These are friendly small-talk questions, common during graduation season. But for many of us in the class of 2025, these questions land somewhere between grating and gutting. 

The truth is, many of us don’t know. 

That uncertainty isn’t for lack of trying — it’s because we’re entering one of the worst youth job markets Canada has seen in more than two decades.

Across conversations with my peers this spring, the mood is somewhere between burnout and dread.

A few are sending out resumé after resumé into a digital void. Others are bracing to return to service industry jobs they had hoped to leave behind. Many are simply trying to make it through the last month of classes without spiralling.

It’s exhausting to constantly explain our next steps when, structurally, the next step is foggy at best.

The numbers back this up. According to Statistics Canada’s May 2025 Labour Force Survey, the national youth unemployment rate is holding steady at 14.2 per cent, up from 13.6 per cent in January. That’s about 2 to 3 percentage points above the pre-pandemic averages, roughly 11 to 12 per cent between 2017 and 2019.

In provinces like British Columbia and Ontario, the rate spikes even higher — 16.6 per cent and 15.5 per cent, respectively. These are the highest youth unemployment rates since the recession years of the 1990s.

It’s not just about jobs being “out there” but not applied for. Many sectors that typically employ new graduates, like arts, culture and education, are facing deep cuts or wage stagnation. More than half of the openings were low-wage retail and service roles, often labelled entry-level but offering few long-term career prospects. Meanwhile, sectors experiencing growth, like AI, green energy and trades, aren’t always aligned with the training humanities, social science and fine arts graduates receive.

asking young people what they’re doing after school — while framed as casual conversation — often lands as a reminder of structural failure. – Phineas Ambrose Savchenko

The dissonance is sharp.

This mismatch between graduates’ education and the available job market, layered with cost-of-living pressures and student debt, is part of why so many of us are simply trying to get through the day, never mind confidently mapping out a career trajectory on command.

There’s also a growing emotional toll.

One student recently posted on Carleton University’s subreddit: “Every day I regret having majored in linguistics … I’m fed up with life and just waiting for God to call me up.” 

Dozens of similar replies followed, with graduates and students alike voicing regret, anxiety and hopelessness about a job market that offers little in return for their degrees.

So what does this mean?

First, it suggests that asking young people what they’re doing after school — while framed as casual conversation — often lands as a reminder of structural failure. It individualizes a collective issue, and the pressure to offer an optimistic response is exhausting.

Second, the data remind us this isn’t just a “Gen Z mindset” problem, as some pundits claim. In reality, it’s material. As of this spring, more than one in seven young Canadians looking for work remain unemployed. Many more are under-employed, working part-time or in precarious gig work that doesn’t align with their qualifications.

What can we do about it?

For one, stop asking graduates “what’s next” in ways that suggest career certainty is a simple matter of grit or ambition. Instead, we can shift the conversation toward care: “How are you feeling about finishing school?” “What’s exciting or interesting to you right now?” “How can I support you as you transition?” These are questions that invite honesty and solidarity, not performative answers.

On a policy level, we need more robust public investment in youth employment programs, not piecemeal responses. While the federal government recently pledged $23 million to youth skills training, far deeper structural interventions are needed. This means creating pathways for entry-level work that match educational backgrounds and ensuring paid internships.

We must also tackle credential inflation head-on. The share of over-credentialed workers has risen from 24 per cent in 2006 to 56 per cent in 2024, with university-degree holders more than doubling. 

Finally, we must recognize that the “linear career path” has long been a fiction for many, and today’s economic landscape makes it even more so. Some grads will work gigs, switch fields or return to school. Some will need time to decompress from the exhaustion of degree programs. All of this is valid.

So this graduation season, maybe skip the “what’s next” question. Instead, offer curiosity, compassion — and an understanding that for many young Canadians, surviving, resting and reimagining are already more than enough.


Featured graphic by Phineas Ambrose Savchenko/the Charlatan