Is This Shifting the Communal Spaces in Homes?

The other day i was thinking for generations, the family table was a cornerstone of home life. It was where stories were shared, folklore passed down, arguments sparked, and values shaped. A simple piece of wood brought people together. Across cultures, the table did not always look the same, but the idea was consistent. Families gathered in a shared space to eat, talk, listen, and reason with one another.

When I was growing up, the family table was where I ate, did my homework, and when I had done something wrong, it was where I was called to sit. Parent at the other end, arms folded, ready to address whatever I had done. That table was not just furniture. It was where correction happened, where expectations were made clear, and where you learned that actions had consequences. You did not want to be called to that table.

Now, as an adult and an educator, I find myself reminiscing on that "Family Table". Probably that is why I wrote this article. Because I hear a totally different experience from young people today.

More and more, I hear stories of students eating separately from their families. Some eat alone in their bedrooms, some in front of screens, and some at completely different times. Thinking about this matter i stumbled on some research which suggest that shared family rituals, especially mealtimes, are linked to better communication, emotional wellbeing, and a stronger sense of belonging for young people. When those moments disappear, something important goes with them.

It raises a simple but powerful question. Where is the communal space in today's home where young people can listen, speak, and be heard?

And when that space is missing, young people start looking for it elsewhere.

Where safe boundaries were present at home, many young people did not need to test them elsewhere. Boundaries are not about control. They are about safety and clarity. They help young people understand what is acceptable and give them confidence to explore the world within limits.

In their absence, I found many students testing boundaries in school.

At times, I felt like I was sitting at the dinner table with students, except the table was a classroom desk. Some students would bring up issues that had nothing to do with the lesson. They were not trying to distract. They were looking for a place to talk. A place to offload. A place to be listened to.

Interestingly, adolescent research shows that boundary testing is not simply rebellion. It is often a sign that structure is missing. When guidance is absent, young people do not feel free. They feel unsupported.

As societal pressures grow, the digital world expands, and family structures continue to change, the communal space within the home has become less clear. Shift work, long hours, financial pressure, and exhaustion all play a role.

This is not about blaming families. It is about recognising reality. And we cannot ignore that the biggest form of child abuse is neglect, something that happens for all varieties of reasons, not all of them intentional. The issue is not the absence of a physical table, but the absence of a protected space for conversation.

What concerns me most is that many young people are now consuming adult content online without guidance. They are seeing and hearing things they are not emotionally ready to process. They have no one to talk to about it, no one to challenge what they have seen, and no one to help them make sense of it. We are asking a generation to process complex information on their own.

I often remind staff that students are always searching for four things, whether they say it out loud or not. Identity. Acceptance. Approval. A sense of belonging. When these needs are not met at home, young people will look elsewhere. They turn to peers, online communities, influencers, and increasingly to technology itself.

Over the years, I learned an important lesson. Never shut young people down. Too often students are dismissed or told to be quiet. When that happens, they do not stop being curious. They just go elsewhere, usually behind closed doors.

From Porn to Violence I heard it all. It got to point I unintentionally became a safe guarding expert. Not because I had all the answers, but because I listened and notice when students would cry for help revealing stuff to get a reaction or notice.

The classroom has quietly become the new family table.

Teachers are now holding conversations that once happened at home. One student told me they see the boss man at the fried chicken shop more than they see their own parent cooking at home. That stuck with me as wild take on the currect stuation.

With the rise of artificial intelligence, another question is emerging. Does AI become the new communal space? Is it where young people go to ask questions, to process the world, and to make sense of things they cannot say out loud? AI can provide information, but it cannot provide values. It can answer questions, but it cannot replace human guidance.

It is unsettling to think that something so deeply human could be so easily replaced.

It is also important to say that the family table has always been shaped by class and culture. For some families, it was a daily ritual full of conversation. For others, it was never possible. Many families without a physical table have created their own shared spaces. Conversations in the car on the school run, walks to the shop, moments before bed, or liming together on the veranda. That adaptability matters.

This is not about nostalgia or returning to the past. It is about intention. If we do not intentionally create spaces for young people to speak and be heard, they will find spaces that do not always have their best interests at heart.

Young people are still searching for identity, acceptance, approval, and belonging.

The only real question is who or what will meet them there.